SECRETARY- Kylo Ren.

Chapter 11 - Dirt.

Hickeys.

   It was when you had first seen Kylo after the restaurant incident that he had pointed out the hickeys on your throat -– ones you hadn't even noticed that Poe had left in the first place.

   You had returned back to work, dressed in your usual business-casual uniform, Kylo's coffee in hand, as you made way to his office.

   A certain unease sat in your stomach as you urged you in, instructing you to place the fresh coffee on his desk. Per usual, he had his nose buried into a stack of bills, letters, and files. He seemed almost unapparent to your presence.

   Positioning yourself at your small typewriter in front of his desk, you waited quietly for further instruction, like most mornings at work. A few long moments had passed, and you grew desperate, until he finally moved his attention onto you.

   He studied you with that unreadable look he always had, an expression somewhere between puzzled and in judgment. You grew antsy under his gaze, uneasy as his silence. He was always a man of little words, but never silence.

   But finally, the silence broke, and he was quick to speak.

   "I'm hopeful that you enjoyed the rest of your night, with everything that happened at the restaurant and all." He spoke, voice vague.

   You managed a wry smile, mind thinking back to the night you spent at Poe's. "Uhm, yeah, it was alright I guess." You answer, stumbling over your words.

   His eyes burned into yours as he simply looked at you. You watched his gaze slowly drop from your eyes, to your lips, and then to your throat — where it continued to linger for a few more moments. His brows knit ever so slightly.

   He brought his hand to hover over his own throat, gesturing to the same spot on yours. "I think you have something on your throat..." he trailed off.

   Your brows knit, your fingers brushing against your throat. You felt nothing. "What? Is makeup?" You asked him.

   He shook his head ever so slightly. He gawked at your throat, eyes wide. You could see his eye twitch ever so slightly, like he was irritated. His eyes had grown darker from when you first saw them.

   Reading his expression, you began rubbing at your neck, confused on what he could be talking about. Worry washed over you, and his angering expression wasn't helping.

   "I'm sorry," you apologized, although you weren't sure why, "I must have gotten some sort of–" you began.

   He quickly cut you off, still as ever. "A hickey. You have a hickey on your throat." He finally told you, voice forced and somewhat strained.

   You paused, cheeks going redder then ever. Your eyes grew wide, a sinking feeling dropping from your chest to your stomach. A hickey. Poe. Fuck.

   You quickly dropped your head, eyes falling in your lap as you tried your best to hide your neck. Embarrassment and shame washed over you.

   "I suppose you did enjoy the rest of your night, after all." He muttered under his breath, almost a scoff.

   You were puzzled at the anger that seemed to be coming off of him. You thought he had no right — leading you on for weeks, toying with you, whispering suggestive things into your ear, all for him to end up with some model-like woman in his bed instead of you. You didn't understand his way of thinking.

   "And you didn't?" You suddenly hissed, head snapping up so that your eyes could meet his.

   He slowly raised his eyes from his work to meet yours once more, brow cocking. "Pardon?" He challenged.