THE AFFAIR (SAMPLE - Story moved to Inkitt)

Chapter 5 - The Gala

SONG: Hips don't lie by Shakira
____________

...Arabella...

It had been a full week since our last dinner and things were awkward between Logan and I, however, I resided myself to thinking that this is the way things should be. I was married, even if he was an almost invisible husband but what was unbearable about our discomfiture, was that Logan had begun to invade not just my nighttime delusions but my daytime fantasies as well.

~*~
"Say you'll stay?" Logan's arm snaked around my waist, his hot breath fanning my face, sending shivers rippling below my skin, "you never stay." He whispers against my neck.

"Logan, I can't stay," he kneels in front of me raising my skirt, trailing gentle kisses up my left inner thigh.

"What if I refuse to let you go? I could tie you to my desk, leave you on the verge of your release for hours, crippling you under my control," he bites my core with his teeth, causing an involuntary moan.

"Arabella... Arabella..."
~*~

"I love the way you say my name," I whisper.

"What?... Arabella... Bells?" My eyes fly open, wiping my drool with the back of my hand.

"Bells, you okay?" I look at a very close Pierre Taylor, scrupulously scrutinising me and slam my thighs shut.

"Huh, sorry yes... Mr Taylor... do you need something?"

"Yes, Loag's ask me to collect you on the way through, we need to discuss the last of the Gala plans." Realising my embarrassing mistake, I quickly grab the folder and follow Pierre. "You like the way I say your name huh?" My checks burn a deep scarlet as a wink is shot in my direction.

"No," I state clearly.

"What took you so long?" Logan's mood was less than favourable.

"Relax Loags, she likes the way I say her name." My mouth drops open in horror before I regain my composure and send a deathly glare at Pierre only to receive wiggling eyebrows.

"Can we get to work?" My palm holds my forehead and I bite my lower lip before opening my folder.

"Are you alright Arabella?" My lids flutter at the sound of my name.

"Yes, Mr McCarlock," he clenches his fists on his desk.

"Right, then let's continue, here is the list of employees and associates that need to be sent the menu change..."

We spend the next 45 minutes going over the details, having Pierre continuously attempting to distract the thick tense atmosphere with bad jokes and sexist comments while I tried desperately to keep sweat from pouring out of my body.

Don't think about him naked, I reprimanded myself.

"Pear, please close the door behind you, Arabella stay." My gaze trained on the floor as my fingertips massaged my neck.

"Arabella, are you not sleeping?" He enquires.

"I'm fine Mr McCarlock," I reply quietly.

"Logan, Jesus Arabella," he snaps, coming around his desk and leaning against it in front of me. "Can we talk?"

"Sure, but I think we pretty much covered everything with Mr Taylor."

"Look at me," he orders to which I refuse to budge.

"Please, Arabella look at me?" My hazel eyes slowly make their way from his shining black shoes, up his grey business pants, across his black belt, along his white business shirt with grey tie, up his neck, chin, and nose and finally rest on his gold eyes.