Page 92 of Pining for Pierce
Afterwards, we made love again, neither of us looking forward to the start of another working week, and determined to make the most of the end of that perfect day together.
Needless to say, it came as quite a shock to return to work yesterday, but we texted each other roughly every hour, and rather than our text messages being about missing each other and love, like they had been last week, they were a lot spicier.
I started that, telling Harley I couldn’t wait for her to get home so she could change out of her work clothes and into one of my hoodies.
Her reply took about ten minutes to come in, but when it did, I had to smile.
— Just a hoodie? xx
— Yeah. Just a hoodie and nothing else. Although I doubt you’ll be wearing it for long. xx
— Why? xx
She was teasing, and I could imagine her sitting at her desk with a smile on her face.
It matched my own as I typed out my reply.
— Because I wanna get you naked, sit you up on the kitchen countertop, and take you so hard, you’ll be begging me to stop. xx
I pressed ‘send’, hoping I hadn’t gone too far. After ten minutes, I was on the verge of sending an apology when her reply came in.
— Sorry about the delay. I had to clean up my desk. Your message made me spit coffee everywhere. xx
I laughed and typed out…
— Sorry about that. xxx
— Don’t be. But if you think I’ll be begging you to stop, you don’t know me at all. xx
— Yes, I do. I know you better than anyone. xx
— Then you should know I’ll be begging you for more. xx
— I hope so. I love you, babe. xx
— I love you. xx
That’s what it was like all day yesterday, and today… although today Harley’s also included words of encouragement about tonight’s meeting, knowing my nerves would be building as the day passed… because she knows me better than anyone, too.
The Sat/Nav interrupts my thoughts, telling me to take the next left, which I do, realizing I’ve reached my destination before the automated voice tells me.
I park outside the fairly imposing building, the engine still running for a moment. It’s bigger than I remember, although I haven’t been here since before I went to college, and I switch off the engine and get out of the car, only now realizing that the building before me has been extended, which explains a lot.
I walk up the wide steps, pushing open the glass door, and come face to face with a man in a well-fitting suit.
He steps forward, holding out his hand, which I take, giving him a firm shake.
“I’m Karl Bowman,” he says.
“Pierce Barton.” I feel like I’m stating the obvious, but so was he, and he nods his head.
“I’ll just lock this door.” He pulls a set of keys from his pocket, going to the door behind me. “Most of the staff have already left for the day,” he says, explaining his actions.
“Won’t the ones who are still here need to get out?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “There’s a staff entrance at the back,” he says, pocketing the keys again as he turns to face me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you during working hours, but we’re incredibly busy right now.”
“That’s okay. This suited me better.”
