Cruel Temptation | ongoing

chapter eleven

C H A P T E R   E L E V E N
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I stared at him in horror, before yanking myself away from him as quickly as possible and desperately trying to find my feet.

My blonde haired best friend poked her head around the door. "Hey, Amara forgot her fol—" And then she spotted me, still straddling Miller. She must have put together the pieces of Miller sitting with his shirt half undone and chest exposed and me with my own shirt undone, both with hair as wild as anything. And the fact, you know, we were on top of each other. "Oh my god."

I stayed rigid, and yet very relieved it was Kate— the girl who'd had to help me out of the window of a one night stand's house with my knickers still around my ankles— and not anyone else.

"Here," she said, putting the folder clearly labelled Dreyton Manor on the other side of the desk. "I'll leave you two to it then."

"Kate wait—"

"I'll wait outside."

She didn't wait for me to try and come up with some poor excuse as to why I was clearly sleeping with a client. I watched her close the door behind her, throwing me a mouthed 'well done' as she went.

When the door closed, I turned back to the boy beneath me. He gazed up at me, lips looking plumper than usual and a little roughened up. His hair was a mess and even those golden eyes screamed 'I've just been fucked!' Even if the most we'd done was have a fiddle.

"Why did you do that?"

He shrugged, not even pretending to not know what I was talking about. "Felt like it."

"It could've been anyone behind that door," I said, imagining pretty much every single possible scenario. And none of them ended well for me.

"Good thing it was only your friend then," he said, hands on my thighs.

"It could've been my boss."

Miller rolled his eyes. "He's too lazy to have made the trip over here."

He might've been right but he really didn't need to say it.

"That's beside the point," I said, feeling my resolve waver.

"So then what is the point?" He asked, staring up at me.

"The point is," I said, doing up his buttons again. "This isn't exactly professional."

"Is it not?"

"Me hovering over you? I'd say it probably wasn't." I folded his collar correctly, admiring my work for moment. 'My work' being Miller Dreyton. "Or do you treat your accountant like this, too?"

"For one, considering my accountant is a sixty year old called Arthur," he said, kneading the skin of my hips. "I'll say no. And for two, let's fix that then." He pulled me down properly onto his lap.

"We're not going to get anything done like this," I said with mock sternness.

I went to stand but his hands kept me there, firm but gentle. "Come on," he said. "Tell me about primary colours or whatever it is that'll make you happy."