🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.48.

I had to work very hard at work to distract myself from the thought of going back to Elijah's condo. Thankfully, I had my erotic weekend with Gray to occupy my thoughts. Imagining the animalistic sounds he made in bed and Gray's exquisite naked body owning mine was enough to warm my cheeks and put a smile on my face for hours.

My smile got even wider when Gray dropped by the agency to take me out to lunch that Monday, which raised more than a few curious eyebrows (and inspired some envious glances from my coworkers, too). 

Our team had been scrambling to prepare for the first commercial shoot of many, and we had two weeks to get our shit together. 

To say we were nervous was an understatement. We were still going through last-minute rewrites with our client while the production team was having trouble securing the permits we needed to film in a public school. 

That was ad-life, though. Everything felt like it was going to hell up until (and sometimes during) the campaign went live. 

Somehow we always managed to make something out of nothing at the very last minute. And thankfully, our high-stress campaigns tended to win the kind of awards that brought in new clients for us to perpetuate the cycle.  

Like the rest of us, Gray seemed to thrive in the creative chaos. No matter how cuckoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs things got in the office, he was calm and collected (and quietly handsome as fuck while doing it). 

After we finished eating, Gray walked me back to my office to get an update on the campaign and look through the revised storyboards. Which is how he overheard Rebecca talking about my trip to Elijah's condo.

Gray visibly stiffened at the idea, but he didn't say anything until I walked him out to reception. 

"Look, I'm not asking you to marry me, Isla," Gray's annoyed tone wasn't what got my heart rate going crazy. "I'm just asking you to call me after you get back from Eli's. Hell, you can text me if that makes you feel better. I just want to know that he didn't try to pull anything."

We weren't fighting, but our conversation had gone from playfully protective to forceful growling (from Gray) within seconds.

He was walking me back to my office, and for a brief moment, he seemed to forget that we were in a public place. His hand clasped my elbow to pull me back into his searing chest.

Gray had come in wearing the crimson necktie we'd used as a naughty prop that weekend and I could smell our foreplay on its silky fibers. 

That's probably why he wore it. To remind me of all the dirty things we did over and over and over, using that remarkable little sliver of material to make me come so hard that I was seeing starbursts behind my eyelids. The memory turned me on and made my sex throb painfully.

"He's not even going to be there," I assured him, rolling my eyes to enjoy the sensations at my back.  

I'll admit, I was wearing my snazzy black cigarette pants for Gray's benefit. The pumps I'd paired with them lifted my rump enough to feel the outline of his flourishing erection.

I should have pulled away and kept walking. Honestly, I should have kept a respectable distance between us at all times, but I couldn't help myself. With my back wedged against his firm chest, I pushed myself into his arousal to enjoy the hiss that escaped his lips.

"Isla," his sharp gasp tickled up my spine. "Baby, I can't-"

"What?" I whispered, keeping an eye on the bullpen of cubicles to make sure no one was looking.

Gray lowered his head until his cool breath was tickling my inner ear. "I can't fucking keep it together when you do things like that," he growled, low and heavy. His fingers tightened insistently around my elbow, squeezing enough to send a pulse of heat into my bottom. "You're driving me fucking crazy."