Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(27)
Trey lifts my shirt higher and higher as his hands continue up my back. Our faces part and he drags his thumb across my lower lip while we stare at one another with ragged breaths. I’m nervous and my body is still tense because of it. I stand at a crossroads of wanting to speed things up and slow them down at the same time.
“God. I missed this. I missed you, Simone.”
I smile at the compliment and relax a little. “Me too.”
Trey’s head lowers until he buries it in the curve of my neck. His tongue draws the line from my ear to my collarbone and then lower. As he lifts my shirt up the last few inches, my black lacy bra is bared to the room and he sucks in a breath. He drags his teeth lightly over one breast while my body shakes with the contact. I’m vibrating as his head moves to the middle of my chest and he opens my front-clasp bra with his mouth in some kind of superman move.
Three consecutive dings from the other side of the open space stop both our movements. Trey leans his head back from my chest allowing both parts of my bra to fall open. His eyes take in the two pebbled peaks in front of him before he leans forward again, ready to ignore our interruption.
Another three beeps stop him and I stiffen as I realize where the noise is from. I unwrap my arm from around Trey’s neck and move to stand, but he stops me with two big powerful hands on my back.
“It’s my phone,” I whisper to him.
“Don’t you dare answer your phone, Simone,” Trey whispers back, but with more authority.
“It’s my boss. He’s an ass. I have to answer.” I scramble off his lap and he lets me go. He threw my large bag onto the floor inside his door when we walked in, and I race there to answer the call.
I hate to admit that while the timing on this phone call is horrible, it isn’t unexpected. I thought my boss, Roger, was a jerk the first week, but he’s focused on guaranteeing it this week. He’s called or emailed me to question every decision I’ve made since I stepped foot in the office. Which when you consider I’m still working on getting to know my clients, I haven’t done more than make copies, phone calls, or meet for lunch dates. The largest transaction I’ve put through our system was approval for a $400 vet bill.
I ruffle through the bag and take a deep breath before answering. “Simone speaking.”
The bull terrier begins to rattle off questions about my lunch meeting today with a new client. It’s all information he could have gathered from me at the office, or better yet read the email I sent him with the outline. No, the * decides he needs to call and ask me tonight. Right now.
I stand with the phone in my hand as Trey falls back on the couch and sighs loudly. He stares up at the ceiling in defeat and his head turns to mine while I plead with my eyes that he’ll understand. He jerks his head in a move to call me back to him. I don’t need the distraction of Trey, but I can’t refuse. As I reach him he stands. Both hands fit underneath my arms and he pulls my bra back together clasping it again with slower movements than he used to take it off. He sighs again then sweeps his hands down my shirt to work out the wrinkles.
“You need to come back and get these taken care of tonight, Simone. I don’t know how you did it in New York, but here employees don’t leave until paperwork is done."
“Wh… what?” I sputter after catching some of what he’s said. Wrapped up in Trey again, I missed his earlier complaints.
His voice rises a few octaves. “You need to come in and finish approving the loan documents for the Low family. They need to present financing tomorrow morning when they meet with builders.”
There wasn’t any documentation for me to sign when I left today. I met with the Low family for lunch this week and no one mentioned paperwork. Still, my pride won’t let me admit I may have made a mistake to my boss, so I agree to meet him in the office within the hour.
Trey listens to my end of the conversation. He looks resigned to what I’m going to say before I have the call turned off.
“I have to go back to work.” I shrug when I say it so as not give away how upset I am.
“I heard.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Roger pulls his little red convertible into the half circle driveway in front of the white exterior of The Flood Mansion and we pause in the line of cars to wait our turn with the valet. So far he hasn’t spewed comments about my attire so I'm hoping tonight’s dress meets his standards. It’s still a little black dress, but the satin material falls to the floor and the fabric shimmers in the light — more of an iridescent black. The fabric swoops at the top across the shoulders and gives the entire piece a fancier feel over what I wore to our last event.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks from the driver’s seat.
The house is an actual mansion, not just in name. The long white building looks to be made from marble or some other stark white material. Details around the windows and roof match the formal entryway with its detailed columns and simple yet still grand front steps.
“I didn’t realize San Francisco had this type of architecture. I thought it was all Queen Anne.”
“The Flood Mansion is an Italian Renaissance design. You’ll find all kinds of homes in the area.” In a moment of non-*ness, the bull terrier and I share a polite conversation while waiting for the valet stationed in front of the home. “I’m glad you were able to pull this outfit together in such short notice. I was worried we’d have a repeat of last week.”