A quick glance in the shadowed glass of the sleeping computer monitor next to her reminds her of exactly where that freckle is, just above the neckline of her blouse, a little more obvious than usual because of the light green material below it. Is that where his eyes went this morning? Is he . . . is he texting her what hadactuallygone through his head in that moment?
Because it was a moment, there’s no denying that. It was charged and heady and if they had actually been engaged, one thing would have led to another and she’d probably be sitting here looking way less camera ready, but way more relaxed.
But they aren’t engaged.
Even if this is what he thought about, even if his mind wandered there, like hers has occasionally, it doesn’t matter because, like she told Miranda, none of this is real. There’s no future with Xavier Byrne.
Despite it being her idea, that’s what makes her lock her phone and put it face down on her desk. Her interview is in ten minutes. She shakes her mouse and the screen brightens before she logs on and pulls up the meeting link they sent her.
And there’s nothing to do except wait . . . or she could check her phone.
—I’d just stay there until you gasp my name, all impatient.
—I love when you say my name like that.
And before she can even think about it, she types out the obvious response.
—Like what?
His answer is instant, like he’s scripted this out. Maybe he has. Maybe he gave up on his presentation and decided to write some soft-core porn instead.
—Like you want my mouth somewhere else, somewhere better.
—Where do you want my mouth, boss?
Fuck. There’s only one answer to that question. One answer and it’ll give her the absolute perfect text convo for – what did Lexi call them?B’s Bridal Bitches– to lose their minds over tonight and that’s why she types out.
—Between my legs.
There’s a longer pause now, like maybe . . . maybe he didn’t think she’d have the guts to go there, but now she did, and swallowing back the panic, she waits. The three little dots pop up. Then disappear. Then reappear again. And then finally . . .
—Exactly where I belong.
Bianca pulls in a sharp breath and stifles the soft groan that she’s desperate to release. Holy shit. But then there’s another message.
—I could lose myself there for hours.
—I could die a happy man between those thighs.
She has no idea what to say to that and shit, maybe he knows it, because his next text gives her an out.
—You’re going to blow them out of the water. Nail down that job and then have fun with the girls tonight. X
And that’s that. Her phone doesn’t buzz again and thank God, because if it did, she was going to have to lock herself in the bathroom to take care of the absolutely blistering heat firing through her body.
Holy shit.
That was . . . a lot, but okay, she needs to calm down. It wasn’t real. It was just what she asked him to do, nothing more, nothing less, and he more than fulfilled his end of the bargain.
In fact, yeah, she should let him know how perfect that was. She doesn’t want to blow their cover, so she just sends back a little heart. He’ll get the idea.
Finally, the clock ticks over and it’s time. And her nerves?
Completely gone.
Yeah, she’s gonna fucking nail this job down right now.
“And then what happened?” Frankie asks from her spot at the bar cart in the corner of her living room.
