My face flushes at his words, and I don’t know what the sound that comes out of me is, but I liken it to a cough-snort. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” There’s that damn smirk again. He rubs his chin and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Because. One. Night. Stand. Means just that. One night.” I enunciate each word, quietly, discreetly. Hoping that anyone watching us through the glass isn’t good at reading lips. “That’s all last night was. Plus, you’re my boss. Please don’t make this weird—”
“You’re the one who said just one night and I’m not your boss,” he points out, all too pleased with his response. “You report to that senior account manager…what’s his name?”
“Eddie.”
“Ah yes, Eddie.” He pauses for a moment. “Grace…you know I’m a man who gets what I want, don’t you?” His eyes hold mine, no sense of humor in them. He’s serious. He means business.
I actually roll my eyes at him, not even trying to hide my disgust at that statement. It’s so barbaric. “I’m not available.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Not available? So you have a boyfriend and you’re a cheater? That’s not what this says.” He grabs a manila folder that’s on the table and opens it. He pulls two pieces of paper out and looks back and forth between both of them. “Grace Morgan,” he reads off the sheet. “Twenty-five years old from Antelope Hills, Montana. Single,” he emphasizes that word, “graduate of the University of Montana with a degree in Marketing, emphasis in Advertising. Moved to New York City in twenty-eighteen. Only known relative is Jennifer Morgan, mother. Lives in Red Hook, Brooklyn.” He pauses, his eyes looking at me for confirmation of what he’s just read, only I’m too shocked to respond. “Red Hook isn’t safe,” he says disapprovingly, shoving the papers back in the folder.
I blink at him several times, shocked at his boldness. Who does he think he is, just reading my file like that? “Where did you get that information, and what are you trying to prove?” I ask, my voice laced with annoyance. How does someone get that kind of information?
One side of his mouth tips up. “I’m showing you I can find out anything about you. I know you’re available, Gracie. And I’d like to see you again.” His voice softens and he sits back in his chair, his shoulders falling comfortably as he laces his hands together.
I do my best to temper my voice, but my anxiety has changed to anger. “Why? So we can fuck like rabbits, and risk the chance I might get attached to you just in time for you to turn around and move back to San Francisco? No, thank you. That’s why last night will only be a one-night stand.”
His eyes seem to widen at my sharp tone and foul language, or perhaps it’s because I told him I might get attached. I blink hard to keep from squeezing my eyes shut. God, I’m such an idiot. I’m not good at casual sex and how it’s supposed to work. Sex has always been about love and caring and, yes, attachment for me…until last night.
Drew clears his throat and leans forward. “If I recall last night correctly, we had a great time…fucking, if that’s what you’d like to call it. And I’d like to do it again. We’re grown-ups here, Grace. We’ll set boundaries, and we won’t cross them. We both mutually benefit from our time together—”
“Not going to happen,” I cut him off and push myself up from the chair. Who the hell does this guy think he is? “As I said before, it was one night. Please don’t make this awkward for us, and please don’t ever bring it up again.” My voice shakes and I hate that he knows he can get to me.
He throws himself back in his chair and laces his hands behind his head with that damn smirk still plastered across his face. “I like it when you’re bossy.”
“And I like it when you don’t talk to me. So please leave me alone.” I grab my notebook off the table and march toward the door, my stomach twisting and turning the entire way.
“Never going to happen, Gracie,” I hear him say with a chuckle as the door shuts behind me.
When I finally hang up my phone from fielding client inquiries regarding today’s acquisition developments, I realize I’m the last one left in the office—except for Drew.
The automatic office lights have begun to dim or turn off completely and the sparkling Manhattan skyline is on full display outside my office window. This is why I’m here. The dazzling lights of New York City. Those lights represent opportunity. Opportunity for me to grow in the greatest city in the world. Opportunity to change my circumstances…change my mom’s circumstances. Through hard work and perseverance, I hope to change both of our lives. Growing up in abject poverty has shaped me. I’ve seen the worst of the worst and survived on literally nothing. I’m living the American dream and trying to do better for myself—for my mom. This is why I’m here. This is why I won’t ruin this opportunity by bedding Drew again.
Shoving those thoughts away, I decide to call it a night. I’m thankful that it’s Friday and I can spend the weekend forgetting about Drew and last night. Only, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forget about Drew and the night we shared.
The clock on the office wall tells me it’s after eight in the evening and my stomach growls in hunger. I pull a long sweater out of my cabinet and change out of my heels into a pair of ballet flats—much more comfortable for commuting in.
After powering down my computer, I shove my phone in my handbag and head toward the elevator. Sliding through the open double doors, I step to the back corner of the elevator car and let out a long sigh. I’m ready for this whole weird, stressful day to be over. As the two metal doors are just about to meet, a hand reaches in and stops them. Two bright blue eyes peer at me as the doors part. Drew. My stomach sinks at the same time my heart flutters. Why do I have such a traitorous heart?
Wearing dark grey suit pants and a black dress shirt, he carries the matching grey suit jacket over his shoulder. In his left hand is a black, sleek leather briefcase and he looks every bit the GQ model I thought he was when I met him at the bar last night.
“Late night, Miss Morgan?” he questions, sliding right next to me. His shoulder brushes mine and I step as far as I can to get away from him, but this puts me up against the wall. When he takes two steps sideways, I’m pinned between Drew and the cold elevator wall. My nipples harden, and I cross my arms over my chest to cover the firm peaks his white shirt that I stole does little to hide.
I hear a snicker from Drew, but I ignore him and close my eyes as I feel the elevator descend. I don’t like elevators and I don’t like that my body betrays me every time Drew is within eleven feet of me.
I hear a click and the elevator stops abruptly. My eyes snap open as a loud gasp escapes me. Drew stands with his finger on the emergency stop button, that damn smirk he’s had all day still plastered across his face.
“What are you doing?” I hiss and swat at his hand, trying to get to the button and reengage the elevator.
“This.” He drops his briefcase to the floor and quickly backs me into the corner, pushing his entire body into mine. Every hard inch of him is pressed against me, allowing me to feel every ripple of muscle from his arms, chest, stomach, and thighs. But it’s the long, firm erection nudging at me that makes me weak. The same one that made me come three times last night.