heart pounded painfully against her chest as she witnessed Parson thumbing through her little black book. Holy crap! She’d forgotten to put it back in her desk this morning after she'd run into him in the server room. It had been too loud to talk, but the way he’d looked at her...she'd run to her desk, taken out the notebook and penned a little fantasy. They served to relieve the ache deep in the loins she got whenever she was alone with Parson. The man was devilishly sexy. With deep auburn hair, intense eyes that flashed green, amber and she swore sometimes gray, and a body to die for, he just did things to her.
Knowing it was foolish to want him the way she did, Dontae had started her little black book to work out all the riotous feelings he stirred in her, and in real life she tried like hell to stay as far away from him as possible. Guys like that liked the Barbie type, which she was definitely not. Her hips were a little too big, breasts too natural, and she didn't wear makeup or heels. Dontae liked who she was, liked the little bit of extra meat on her bones. But she was all too painfully aware her “type” was an acquired taste. Usually only men sporting liberal amounts of gray on their heads or seriously bony guys ever asked her out.
The thing she had for Parson seemed harmless enough. Sure she felt like ten kinds of a fool for not being about to speak a coherent sentence in his presence, so she avoided him and kept her crush to herself. Writing little fantasies wasn't hurting anyone. The outlet kept her from making a complete fool out of herself. And now he was reading it. Every dirty little thought that had ever crossed her mind about him was in that book. Things she’d never actually done, but always wanted to find the right person to do them with. Humiliation rode her hard as she struggled to pull in enough air to keep her from fainting. There was no way around what she had written. The name Parson was clear as a bell, and he would know.
She should turn and run. Go home sick until she found a plausible excuse. Right about now her mind had gone completely blank. He'd feel sorry for her, she knew. Parson was a nice guy, more or less. There was just the right touch of asshole in him to make him interesting, but not enough to kill a woman’s interest. He would look at her with those eyes, and she would see the pity. Damn it, she didn't want his pity.
But just as she was about to turn away and tiptoe into her boss’s office with a sob story about some kind of sudden illness, Parson looked up. His stare pinned her to the spot. Oh God, his eyes really were hot. Right now they were searing her. She should run. Just turn tail and get the heck out of dodge. But she couldn’t move. Parson’s gaze seemed to burn right through the heavy sweater and skirt. Did her bra just get a size too small, or had her nipples grown about an inch? It was just so wrong to be this turned on by the sight of a man who was madder than hell at her.
“Interesting reading.” That was odd. He didn’t sound like he pitied her, he sounded pissed. There was certainly anger in his eyes, and something else too. Something she couldn't name.
“I’m sorry.” Of course. She should’ve considered the possibility he might be upset finding he was the subject of a co-worker’s tawdry imagination. Parson didn't seem like the uptight type, but she barely knew him despite having worked with him for three years. “I didn’t mean to...I mean, I never meant for you to see it.” Never meant for anyone to see it.
Parson stalked toward her, expression fierce. How messed up was it that she got wet in response, her nipples tightening into granite? He didn't stop until he was directly in front of her, their bodies touching ever so slightly. Dontae was caught between the urge to run versus the urge to press closer. In the end she did neither, just waited for whatever he had to say.
“For three goddamn years I have watched you, wanted you,
Knowing it was foolish to want him the way she did, Dontae had started her little black book to work out all the riotous feelings he stirred in her, and in real life she tried like hell to stay as far away from him as possible. Guys like that liked the Barbie type, which she was definitely not. Her hips were a little too big, breasts too natural, and she didn't wear makeup or heels. Dontae liked who she was, liked the little bit of extra meat on her bones. But she was all too painfully aware her “type” was an acquired taste. Usually only men sporting liberal amounts of gray on their heads or seriously bony guys ever asked her out.
The thing she had for Parson seemed harmless enough. Sure she felt like ten kinds of a fool for not being about to speak a coherent sentence in his presence, so she avoided him and kept her crush to herself. Writing little fantasies wasn't hurting anyone. The outlet kept her from making a complete fool out of herself. And now he was reading it. Every dirty little thought that had ever crossed her mind about him was in that book. Things she’d never actually done, but always wanted to find the right person to do them with. Humiliation rode her hard as she struggled to pull in enough air to keep her from fainting. There was no way around what she had written. The name Parson was clear as a bell, and he would know.
She should turn and run. Go home sick until she found a plausible excuse. Right about now her mind had gone completely blank. He'd feel sorry for her, she knew. Parson was a nice guy, more or less. There was just the right touch of asshole in him to make him interesting, but not enough to kill a woman’s interest. He would look at her with those eyes, and she would see the pity. Damn it, she didn't want his pity.
But just as she was about to turn away and tiptoe into her boss’s office with a sob story about some kind of sudden illness, Parson looked up. His stare pinned her to the spot. Oh God, his eyes really were hot. Right now they were searing her. She should run. Just turn tail and get the heck out of dodge. But she couldn’t move. Parson’s gaze seemed to burn right through the heavy sweater and skirt. Did her bra just get a size too small, or had her nipples grown about an inch? It was just so wrong to be this turned on by the sight of a man who was madder than hell at her.
“Interesting reading.” That was odd. He didn’t sound like he pitied her, he sounded pissed. There was certainly anger in his eyes, and something else too. Something she couldn't name.
“I’m sorry.” Of course. She should’ve considered the possibility he might be upset finding he was the subject of a co-worker’s tawdry imagination. Parson didn't seem like the uptight type, but she barely knew him despite having worked with him for three years. “I didn’t mean to...I mean, I never meant for you to see it.” Never meant for anyone to see it.
Parson stalked toward her, expression fierce. How messed up was it that she got wet in response, her nipples tightening into granite? He didn't stop until he was directly in front of her, their bodies touching ever so slightly. Dontae was caught between the urge to run versus the urge to press closer. In the end she did neither, just waited for whatever he had to say.
“For three goddamn years I have watched you, wanted you,
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