The Words We Leave Unspoken(3)
When he is standing directly in front of me, he leans over and grips the arms of the chair on either side of me, bringing his lips just inches from the side of my face.
“I didn’t wear you out too much last night, did I?” he whispers against my ear, leaving a wave of goosebumps down my spine as I close my eyes for a brief moment.
A smile stretches across my face as I think of last night and what he did to my body. This man is going to be the death of me, I swear.
“No,” I drawl, moving my head to the side, away from him, and gently pushing his face from my neck with my fingertips. He’s too close. He shouldn’t be this close to me in the office.
He sneaks in a subtle peck on my cheek before standing to his full six-foot-three height and walks back to his desk.
“Good, because I’m already anticipating what I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says with his back to me and my body already heats at his words. And then in the same moment, I remember Gwen.
“About that,” I say, already regretting making plans with my sister. “I can’t come over tonight. I have plans with my sister.”
“That’s too bad,” he says, cocking his head to the side in disappointment as he takes a seat behind his large mahogany desk.
I suck in a deep breath, remembering the day this whole affair started, right here in this office, on his desk. The tension had built up between us for weeks until Grey finally made the first move. It was late, the office quiet and I couldn’t help myself. He’s just too much sexy all wrapped up with a pretty bow. The truth is, I couldn’t remember ever wanting something more than I wanted him that night.
“Yeah... well,” I agree with a sigh as I compose myself and switch into my work mode, erasing the images of what Grey looks like underneath his shirt and tie. I wake up the screen on my iPad and clear my throat. “You have a lunch meeting with Harold Lidman today and Tom Snyder called after you left yesterday, you should call him. He’s feeling anxious about the new strategy.”
“Typical,” he mumbles, deliberately tapping his keyboard with his index finger. “Can you pull up the Tripp account and get Scott on the phone for me? I’ve got to go over these numbers with him before close today.”
“On it,” I assure him as I stand to leave.
Before I reach the door, he asks, “You didn’t tell Gwen about us, did you?”
I turn back to face him and smile. “I never kiss and tell, Grey.”
As I’m leaving his office, he yells out, “Try not to be late again, Miss Brant.” I ignore him and continue back to my desk, trying to hide the ridiculous grin on my face. And in the same moment, I attempt to shake off the feeling that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be sleeping with my boss. I shouldn’t be jeopardizing the best job I’ve ever had. A job that I have, I might add, because Grey is an old friend of John’s – Gwen’s husband. And because John happened to put in a good word for me. Because Gwen was tired of seeing me screw up my life. And now, I’m screwing my boss.
Chapter 3
Gwen
I fill my day with distractions. I manage to call John and work out the details of missing the weekend with the kids without giving him any reason to suspect that I’m keeping something from him. He seems pleased, happy even, that I’m making an effort with Charley. Despite the number of times we have opened our home to her, or our wallet for that matter, or helped her in some way, and despite the number of times helping Charley has come back to bite us in the ass, John has still managed to love her, like I love her. The way that you love a sister in spite of her faults. And even when I am so mad at her that I could spit fire, John always has a way of putting it all into perspective. He’ll say things like, “Gwen, at least your sister’s not a drug addict who stole your identity to score her next fix,” or, “Come on Gwen, it’s not like she would intentionally hurt anyone.” He, without fail, helps me to see the bright side of things, but that’s just his way. John invariably sees the good in life, in people. Which is why he probably can’t detect the hitch in my voice or my overly-wordy explanation – something I only do when I’m nervous. It wouldn’t occur to him that something is wrong or that I’m lying to him. He believes in me, unconditionally. Guilt floods my heart at the thought.
Just as I assured John I would, I call my neighbor, Kristin, and ask her to pick the kids up from school. I call Jen Moore, Deklin’s mom, and ask her to fill in as head coach for Max’s soccer game tomorrow. I ask for all the favors that are owed to me, tenfold, and then I call the spa and fill my day with last minute appointments. After a pedicure, a massage, a facial, a body buff with a seaweed wrap – whatever that is – after I rack up a six hundred dollar bill, I sit in the relaxation room wrapped in a fluffy white robe, mindlessly numb, and try to wrap my head around my new found fate. I won’t allow my mind to wander to the future, to think about everything that I will miss. It’s too painful, too real. Instead I think of the present, right now, and how I go about my life with this massive dark cloud hanging over my head. How do I wake up tomorrow morning and start my day? Will I do anything differently? And with these thoughts comes the fear again. The fear is like this big, heavy boulder sitting in my chest threatening to rip me apart. It hurts, this weight on my heart; it hurts like hell. And I know that the source of this fear – this pain – all begins with telling John.