“Bennie’s going to help with the transition, showing me the ropes before he leaves next week, but from what he explained, I’ll be in charge of inventory management, setting the team’s schedules, and ensuring we keep on budget to maximize profits for the owners. He said he hired someone out to do the marketing, but I think I could take a crack at it, coming up with some fun promotions during the week to drive more traffic on slower evenings.”
The more I talked about it, the more my excitement grew.
“The best part is no more tending bar. No more biting my tongue when customers are rude and demanding in an attempt not to get stiffed on a tip. I’ll be salaried, can you believe that? And no more closing shifts! I’ll get to set my own hours!”
I was practically vibrating in my seat, and Sasha stared across the table at me with a loopy grin on his face.
“What?” I asked.
Chuckling, he held up his hands, which contained not only his vanilla cone but my chocolate one.
“Wait—How did you—I mean—“ My head cocked to the side as I tried to process how he’d gotten ahold of my ice cream.
His gaze dipped to my hands, which were flailing wildly, and it hit me.
“Oh my God,” I groaned.
“Cutest thing I’ve ever seen when you thrust it in my direction so you could talk with your hands,” Sasha remarked, his smile growing wider.
“Shut up. I’m Italian.” I reached across the table to retrieve my cone.
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
My heart stopped beating. “What?”
“You worked hard and earned this promotion, Gemma. I’m so proud of you.”
For most of my life, it had been beaten into me—both verbally and physically—that I was a disappointment. First, for not being born a boy. Then, for my defiance, my unwillingness to cooperate and cater to my father’s whims when decidingmyfuture.
Never, not once, had anyone told me they were proud of me.
I didn’t know how to react. And it sure as hell didn’t help that the longer I stared at Sasha beaming at me, the blurrier he became.
Reaching his long arm over the table, he used the thumb of his free hand to swipe beneath my eyes.
“I need you to believe me when I say I will spend a lifetime making sure you know your worth, your true value.”
A watery laugh fell from my lips. “You really want a lifetime of this hot mess?” I gestured to my face, my makeup surely running down my cheeks at this point.
“More than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life.” There was nothing but sincerity in his words as he held my gaze.
A mix of emotions I wasn’t ready to name rushed over me at once, but I managed to say, voice thick, “Take me home, Sasha.”
Smiling softly back at me, he replied, “It would be my pleasure.”
At some point on the drive back to my place, weepy and emotional switched to horny, and I needed Sasha.
Not in ten minutes. Not when we got home.
Now.
My breathing came in shallow pants as I watched him drive. He’d tossed his coat in the backseat, which bared his rippling forearm as he maneuvered the steering wheel one-handed. His free hand gripped my thigh, and the heat from his palm seared right through the material of my jeans.
My desperation grew to new heights when his thumb stroked steady circles over the rough fabric separating us, and I bit back a moan.
I couldn’t wait another second. The throbbing between my thighs demanded action.
Shifting in my seat, I turned to face him. That hand brushed against my core, and I gasped softly.
