Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
And that’s my plan.
We’ve been dancing around sex for weeks. Hell, he’s made me come with his hands and very talented tongue more times than I can count, but we haven’t actually gone all the way yet. But that’s all about to change. I’m going to Chicago and have big plans for us post-game. Plans that involve no clothes, room service, and a whole box of condoms.
I can’t wait.
“Joey?” my brother hollers as he makes his way to the kitchen where I am.
“Hey! Welcome home,” I sing, though my excitement falls the moment I see his face. “What’s wrong?”
Brock follows behind Caleb, mouthing a quick “I’m sorry.”
Sorry? For what?
Panic starts to set in. Did he tell Caleb about us? Did something happen on the plane home? Or worse, after we hung up late last night?
“I got a phone call this morning before the plane took off,” Caleb starts, standing in front of me, arms crossed over his chest.
“Okay,” I reply, not really sure why he seems so pissed off.
“It was from Debby in Human Resources at Johnson.”
That catches my attention. My blood runs cold. Why would Debby be calling Caleb? “What did she want?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but certain I’m failing.
His face is clearly skeptical. “She said she sent a courier with a small box of personal effects they found in your office, or should I say, former office, but you didn’t live at that address anymore.”
I sigh, wishing I didn’t have to get into this conversation now, but there’s no way around it. I steal a quick glance over my brother’s shoulder and see Brock standing there, watching and listening intently.
“What the hell is going on, Joey? You quit your job? When? Why?”
I plop down in the first chair I come to and take a deep breath. Meeting my brother’s intense gaze, I answer, “Right before I came here.”
“Came here? As in last month?” He seems genuinely perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
I close my eyes, picturing the scene I’ve spent weeks trying to forget. The inappropriate touching, the feel of his body pressed against mine, the forced kiss that caused me to stumble. “I don’t work at Johnson anymore,” I reply lamely, unable to meet his eyes.
“Why?” he asks, genuinely confused. “You loved that job.”
I finally look up and nod, keeping my eyes trained only on his. “Yeah, I did. But something happened.”
He comes over and takes a seat across from me. “What happened?”
“I was working on a big pitch for a new online dating site. A few of us had been staying late all week, including Mr. Davis. It was all-hands-on-deck with the team I was on, so it wasn’t a surprise when he asked me to meet him in his office when everyone else was heading out late on Friday night.”
I can sense him tense before I see it. His soft eyes seem to harden almost immediately. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“He asked me to show him what we had so far, so I took the display boards over to his desk. He stepped aside while I laid the boards out and explained where we were at with the campaign. He stood next to me, so close his arm kept brushing against mine. When his hand grazed across my ass, I took a small step away. Only, he followed me, reaching out and touching my arm suggestively.”
A growl erupts from the room, surprising me, especially since it didn’t come from my brother. Sure, Caleb’s eyes are hard with anger, but it’s Brock that draws my attention. He’s pacing across the kitchen, his hands in his hair, his eyes furious.
“Did he—” Caleb starts, but he can’t seem to get the words out.
I quickly shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. When I stepped away again, he followed me. I asked him to kindly step back, and that’s when he kissed me. He never grabbed me or hurt me, just pressed his lips to mine as if he had the right to do so. I jerked back, stumbling when my foot hit his garbage can, and fell down. He tried to help me up, but I wouldn’t let him. He told me I was clumsy, laughed, and went back to the boards on his desk, as if the kiss didn’t happen.”
“Tell me you kicked that fucker in the balls and called the cops,” my brother seethes.
When I shake my head, I can feel the disappointment rolling off him.
“Why not?” he demands. “That fucker touched you and kissed you. You could sue his ass for sexual assault and own that fucking company right now!”
I sigh, recalling how I agonized over what I should do that entire weekend before ultimately coming to the decision I did. “When I went in on Monday, he called me into his office. He basically told me no one would believe me if I went public with my accusation and if I valued my job, I’d get back to work and not say a word. When I went to my office, I packed up my personal belongings, sent human resources my resignation letter effective immediately, and left.”