Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Stay with Me
Chloe
Seattle, Washington
15 weeks pregnant
I pulled a huge canvas in front of the printers, blocking the basement door and all my private easels. Now and then, in the wee hours of the morning, I snuck down here to sketch and paint the ideas from novels I’d never written, stealing time I always had to pay back.
In some alternate universe, I was never hired at this company, and the risks I took for myself—self publishing, kickstarter campaigns, street art—actually paid off and didn’t leave me drowning in unrealized dreams.
Uncovering my gala sketches, I stepped back and stared at them for several seconds, looking between the S’mores & HEA ballroom and the Dirty Fairytale masquerade stage.
As I was picking up a ruler, my phone buzzed with a call.
Hazel.
Ugh.
“Yeah?” I didn’t bother acting professional.
“Are you still at the office?”
“For a little while, yes.”
“Well, funny story.” She giggled, and I knew that whatever came next would be far from hilarious. “Two weeks ago, I told the indie shop around the corner that we would do a small one-thousand copy print run for their manager, and although I did get the actual books done, I missed the book covers.”
Why are you so fucking incompetent?
“So, I’m thinking that since you’re still in the office and you’re still transitioning to COO, you can run down to the printers’ room and just handle that for me?”
“You want me to print, fold, and prepare a thousand hardback copies by tomorrow?”
“Ha! Don’t be silly, Chloe,” she said. “It’s already tomorrow. You have until seven in the morning.”
She hung up without giving me a chance to reply.
I covered up my easels, packed up my supplies, and placed the blocking canvas back in its place.
Knowing this was impossible, I vowed to do fifty and go home. Then Tyler and I were going to discuss handling her somehow.
If murder wasn’t an option, a forced resignation had to be.
When I made it downstairs, the room was abandoned—as usual—so I fired up the coffee maker and turned on the printer.
As I was setting up the color block, Tyler stepped into the room.
He leaned against the door, staring at me.
“May I help you with something?” I asked.
“That line sounds familiar.” He smiled. “That’s the first line I said when we met, correct?”
I nodded as he stepped closer. “I have to do something for Hazel. Whatever you want will have to wait until after.”
“You know, I find it quite ironic that the woman I want to see the most—especially lately—is the same woman who is still finding ways to ghost me.”
“I am not ghosting you at all, Tyler.”
“I haven’t received any screenshots from your What to Expect App.”
“You barely open those anyway.” I pulled a book cover from the printer. “Since you prefer the ultrasound pictures, my next appointment with Dr. Tevis is week eighteen.”
“I’m aware of that, Chloe,” he said. “We’re in the same group chat. This conversation is about the fact that I’m still not seeing you.”
“I see you every day.” I shook my head. “It may be in passing, but I have a completely different set of tasks to do now that my job has changed.”
“I know that, too.” He moved in front of me, taking the book cover from my hands, tossing it to the floor. “What I don’t know is why you think we’re going another week without picking up where we left off months ago…”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Again,” he said, pressing his chest against mine. “You’re far too easy to read. Should I start an argument for you to show me your true feelings?”
“As long as it can wait until after I get done with this work for Hazel.”
“Fuck Hazel.” He stepped closer. “You don’t work under her anymore, and you need to stop using her as an excuse to steer clear of me. If you haven’t noticed, it doesn’t work. It just delays the inevitable.”
“The inevitable?”
“Yes.” He stamped his mouth over mine. “The fucking inevitable.”
I shut my eyes as he pushed me against the printer, kissing me harder than he ever had in any of my fantasies—harder than he ever did when he fucked me in my room.
Oh my god…
“Ahh, Tyler.” I moaned as he bit down hard on my bottom lip, giving me a dose of pain with his special brand of pleasure.
Gripping me by the waist, he briefly tore away from my mouth and lifted me up, placing me atop the printer’s heated surface.
“Take off your dress,” he commanded.
I stalled.
As if he could tell that I was utterly useless, he grabbed the hem and rolled it back toward my thighs. He didn’t bother pulling the dress over my head.
He pressed long, heated kisses atop my thighs, trailing them closer and closer to my panties, all but guaranteeing his signature red marks in the morning. He pushed the silk fabric to the side and blew a long kiss against my clit.