One
Eve parked the car up in the underground garage. When she turned the engine off, she heard a loud silence that felt odd. Hers was the only car in the lot, and its exhaust had been bouncing and echoing around the concrete box. And now the quiet it left behind was eerie.
She wiped the gunk from her eyes, and felt her hair drying. She could still taste the bitter aftermath of her morning coffee, and she could easily have gone back to bed for another few hours.
“Fuck it’s early,” she sighed, and looked to her right.
Brandon looked immaculate.
His leather jacket hung on his shoulders perfectly, framing a bright white vest that was spotless. There wasn’t a hair out of place on his head, and his jaw was clenched in a stoic shape. Eve felt the tip of her tongue stroke its way around her lips.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, at last turning to look at her.
She saw his pupils widen as he took her in, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. He shouldn’t be allowed to see her this early in the morning. Her eyes felt puffy, her limbs ached, and she felt like shit.
“Slip in, get the equipment, slip out.”
“Why the stealth?”
Eve swallowed, aware she’d just been caught in her lies.
Her operation wasn’t exactly sanctioned.
And from the way Brandon was looking at her now, he was suddenly realising it.
“I get it,” he said, shaking his head slowly, before clenching his fist tight on the door handle.
“We just have to tread carefully.”
“And if it goes to shit, I’m left hanging.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Right,” he said, and yanked open the door, getting out and slamming it shut so hard it hurt Eve’s ears.
He was right to be pissed.
But she had to get this under control.
And so she got out, looking at him over the roof of the car as he paced back and forth in nervous little steps.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said, appealing to his better nature.
“I know I am,” he said, stopping and staring back at her. “I just know you’re not.”
His big brown eyes were at once accusing and scared, and it made her stomach flutter. She would give anything to wander round there and hold him tight, feel his body against hers as she provided some physical comfort.
But all she had was words.
“He’s gotten away with it too long.”
That hit the right nerve, and he sniffed, rolling his shoulders to work out the knots of stress.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” he said, and then strode off towards the elevator.
Eve watched him go, staring at his denim clad butt, so perfect and taut. He was halfway there before she shook herself back to life and trotted after him, her heels clacking loudly on the concrete floor.
In the elevator, she found her mind wandering to a fantasy she had always had; one where she pushed Cyrus up against the side of the elevator and fucked him, only this time, Cyrus wasn’t the subject of the daydream, now it was Brandon, and Eve felt her clit responding positively to the images dancing in her mind.
And he just stood there beside her, close enough to smell him, but too far away to make any physical contact, even the slightest brush of her finger against the back of his hand would be too incongruous.
Eve chastised herself for indulging in these thoughts.
She was better than this.
This was a mission to save her career; and if it fucked up, she would be out on the street. She needed to focus on that, not his bulging pecs and perfect skin.
The elevator lurched to a halt and the doors opened with a slow creak. As they parted, Eve caught a glimpse of the office beyond, and saw the familiar figure of Cyrus hovering by the coffee pots.
“Shit,” Eve grabbed Brandon’s arm and dragged him out of the elevator, and round a corner, slamming his back against the wall. She pressed into his chest, feeling her nipples respond to the proximity, pressing back into him, his warm breath rasping on her face.
She could feel her heart thumping, and feel
Eve parked the car up in the underground garage. When she turned the engine off, she heard a loud silence that felt odd. Hers was the only car in the lot, and its exhaust had been bouncing and echoing around the concrete box. And now the quiet it left behind was eerie.
She wiped the gunk from her eyes, and felt her hair drying. She could still taste the bitter aftermath of her morning coffee, and she could easily have gone back to bed for another few hours.
“Fuck it’s early,” she sighed, and looked to her right.
Brandon looked immaculate.
His leather jacket hung on his shoulders perfectly, framing a bright white vest that was spotless. There wasn’t a hair out of place on his head, and his jaw was clenched in a stoic shape. Eve felt the tip of her tongue stroke its way around her lips.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, at last turning to look at her.
She saw his pupils widen as he took her in, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. He shouldn’t be allowed to see her this early in the morning. Her eyes felt puffy, her limbs ached, and she felt like shit.
“Slip in, get the equipment, slip out.”
“Why the stealth?”
Eve swallowed, aware she’d just been caught in her lies.
Her operation wasn’t exactly sanctioned.
And from the way Brandon was looking at her now, he was suddenly realising it.
“I get it,” he said, shaking his head slowly, before clenching his fist tight on the door handle.
“We just have to tread carefully.”
“And if it goes to shit, I’m left hanging.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Right,” he said, and yanked open the door, getting out and slamming it shut so hard it hurt Eve’s ears.
He was right to be pissed.
But she had to get this under control.
And so she got out, looking at him over the roof of the car as he paced back and forth in nervous little steps.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she said, appealing to his better nature.
“I know I am,” he said, stopping and staring back at her. “I just know you’re not.”
His big brown eyes were at once accusing and scared, and it made her stomach flutter. She would give anything to wander round there and hold him tight, feel his body against hers as she provided some physical comfort.
But all she had was words.
“He’s gotten away with it too long.”
That hit the right nerve, and he sniffed, rolling his shoulders to work out the knots of stress.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” he said, and then strode off towards the elevator.
Eve watched him go, staring at his denim clad butt, so perfect and taut. He was halfway there before she shook herself back to life and trotted after him, her heels clacking loudly on the concrete floor.
In the elevator, she found her mind wandering to a fantasy she had always had; one where she pushed Cyrus up against the side of the elevator and fucked him, only this time, Cyrus wasn’t the subject of the daydream, now it was Brandon, and Eve felt her clit responding positively to the images dancing in her mind.
And he just stood there beside her, close enough to smell him, but too far away to make any physical contact, even the slightest brush of her finger against the back of his hand would be too incongruous.
Eve chastised herself for indulging in these thoughts.
She was better than this.
This was a mission to save her career; and if it fucked up, she would be out on the street. She needed to focus on that, not his bulging pecs and perfect skin.
The elevator lurched to a halt and the doors opened with a slow creak. As they parted, Eve caught a glimpse of the office beyond, and saw the familiar figure of Cyrus hovering by the coffee pots.
“Shit,” Eve grabbed Brandon’s arm and dragged him out of the elevator, and round a corner, slamming his back against the wall. She pressed into his chest, feeling her nipples respond to the proximity, pressing back into him, his warm breath rasping on her face.
She could feel her heart thumping, and feel
Similar Books
