Page 16 of One Little Favor

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Page 16 of One Little Favor

“What do you think I’m doing here?”

I mean, if I’d have known how hot she’d be flying around the ice in those leggings, I’d probably have snuck in here to watch her anyway. But today, I’m here to make her morning easier.

“I honestly don’t know, Tom.” She unzips her jacket and slides it off her arms, letting it pool on the bench around her. “I’m not used to my boss bringing me breakfast at my second job on the weekend.” She leans down and starts to unlace her hockey skates.

“As your fake boyfriend, it felt like the least I could do.” I elbow her in the side so she’ll think I’m kidding, and hopefully not realize that the reason I’m here is that I find myself unable to stay away. “It’ll be quicker and easier for me to give you a ride to the office than for you to take the subway.”

All I wanted to do last night was to see her, but I tried talking myself out of it for so long that it was too late by the time I finally contacted her. When she’d said she had already eaten and was just planning to crawl into bed and watch a movie, I had to let it go. I’m not looking to appear desperate.

“Don’t you live on the Upper West Side?” she asks.

“I do.”

“So you drove halfway through Manhattan to pick me up?”

Guilty. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

She sits up and unfortunately, the first thing I notice is how hard her nipples are in this cold rink. I shouldn’t be able to see them through her sweatshirt, but I can, and now that I’ve seen them, I can’t look away.

“Because I’m helping you?” she asks as she takes her skates and slips them into the backpack resting on the bench next to her. Hopefully she’s so busy with the skates that she didn’t notice me focused in on her breasts.

Tell her it’s because you just wanted to see her.“Yeah.”

She nods. “Okay.” Is it my imagination, or does she sound disappointed?

“And also,” I say quickly, and she looks at me, her eyes full of hope. “Also”—I reach across the space between us and run my thumb along her jawline—“I just wanted to see you.”

Her breath hitches and she leans into my touch, those lush pink lips curving into a small smile. “Well, thanks for breakfast, boss.”

She never used to call me boss, only Tom—or Mr. Shepherd if there were clients around. And the fact that she’s done it a couple times this weekend has me wondering if she’s reminding me of our professional boundaries, or tempting me to cross them?

* * *

“Whatever you say,” Avery says with a wink as she bends to put the roller back in the paint tray.

Her sarcasm and that fucking wink is going to be the death of me. Ever since I slid my thumb along her jaw at the rink earlier, she’s been flirting with me mercilessly.

I glance behind me out the window, and it’s snowing again. Big, fat, white flakes that are swirling through the air lazily. In a minute the windows will be wet from the flakes and it will distort the view, but right now it’s amazing—like being inside a snow globe.

“Hey, look at that,” I say.

“Ugh.” The word is an exhale, and when I turn to see what’s wrong, her body is folded and she’s careening back toward me. Except she was still bent over putting the roller back when she lost her balance, so essentially her ass is rapidly descending toward my crotch. I reach out to steady her, a hand on each hip.

“Don’t move.” My words are almost feral as I desperately attempt not to shove my quickly hardening dick right into the crevice of her ass, which is where it’s currently resting.

“Why not?” Her words are playful, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me right now. This can go one of two ways: either I step back and we go on as we’ve done for a year, or one of us moves even an inch and everything changes. I know what I want, and this morning, I’ve finally realized it might be possible.

“If you move,” I say, my words low, “I can’t be responsible for my actions, Avery.”

I hear her intake of breath in the entirely silent office, and the pause that follows feels way too long. When she finally speaks, the words are so quiet it’s like she’s not sure she wants me to hear them, but I do.

“Stop being so responsible, then.”

That one sentence changes everything, because she follows it up by pressing her hips back against me, then standing up. The entire back of her body is molded to the front of mine, and she leans her head back to rest on my collarbone.

My hands ache to squeeze her hips, to feel my fingertips press into her flesh as I anchor our bodies tighter together. Instead, I keep my grip gentle as I dip my mouth toward her ear. I will give her every opportunity to step away or tell me if this isn’t what she wants.

“Avery, I don’t want an ounce of miscommunication here. What do you want me to do right now?”