Emotionally Compromised (#1) (Available On Amazon) [Preview]

Chapter 9 - Body Language

ALEX TURNER

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            My eyes flicker open. I am unsure at first what has woken me, but soon I see through my half open eyes Jeremy's wonderfully blurry physique slip on his underwear and make his way out of the bedroom. I wait until he is completely out of view to allow myself to stretch in his huge bed.

            I take a moment to absorb my surroundings since I have not had the opportunity with the distracting 'Mr. professional flirt', Jeremy Hunt, around.

            As I feel my joints are squeaky with last night's exertions I grin like a dumb girl, and then try to shake it off like a professional.

            A professional what Agent Turner? Because right now you are no government trained assassin, but an infatuated twenty five year old.

            I scoff at my ever-present subconscious; she always has to ruin all the fun.

            Am I allowed to be unprofessional for a little bit longer? I will give myself the rest of the day, and then call Derek. Right?

            I have so much explaining to do, but if Jeremy Hunt is teaching me one thing it's about acting on impulses. I roll my eyes at the thought.

            I sit up and realize his room is vaster then it seemed last night. Expansive ceiling to floor windows look out onto the Charles River and downtown Boston. Must be nice being master of your universe looking down upon all the lowly towns folk below...

            I can hear Jeremy on the phone somewhere and decide to go see what he is up to.

            Will he want me to leave? Was this a one-time thing? Should I assume it was a nice night and sneak out?

            The idea is gut wrenching. Just because I read his file and it describes him as the love-them/leave-them type, will I be the same kind of girl?

            The secret agent in me peeks her head around the corner and whispers, "You fucking make sure you aren't, you better own this Agent Turner!"

            I won't disappoint you subconscious.

            I rise from bed and find my shirt but cannot for the life of me find my underwear.

            I walk over to his dresser and find myself a pair of Jeremy's boxer briefs. I slip on the black pair, rolling them up into short shorts and only half button my flannel shirt revealing my stomach. Enticing enough for you sub-conscious?

            I peer in the mirror before making my way out and decide there is nothing I can do to my 'just-fucked' hair and make my way out.

            I tip toe down the hall, following the sound of his voice and notice that it is actually coming from the balcony.

            His back is to me as he lays on a patio lounger talking to someone on his cellphone.

            I linger at the screen door listening for a moment only because it's another window into who Jeremy Hunt is. The loveable, love-struck twenty eight year old has been left tangled amongst his sheets down the hall, where as now I can hear the tough hard-ass CEO that I read so much about. His tone is brusque and demanding and I feel bad for the person on the other end.