As I come around the corner to my office on Monday, Wesley sits at his desk wearing an adorably obnoxious smirk. He holds up his wrist, tapping his watch. His playfulness tugs at my lips. He stands as I get closer.
“I got to work before you.” His smile grows wider. “That’s never happened in the history of Wesley.”
The smile crawls up one side of my face. “That’s not exactly true,” I say.
“Until I saw your apartment with my own eyes, I was pretty convinced you slept at the office.”
I laugh, opening the office door. “Now you’re just being silly.” He follows me inside and I jump when his hands come down on my shoulders.
“Oh,” I say, glancing at him as he pulls my red coat from my arms. “Thank you.”
He lets out a pained sound. “You look like a fucking knockout.”
I flatten my hands down my black wrap dress. “I know,” I say quietly. A flush fills my cheeks. “That’s why I wore it.”
He hangs the coat on the hook on the back of the door and pulls the blinds on the glass-paneled wall. Then he grabs me around my waist.
“Wesley.” His name is a soft sigh on my lips.
“Corrine,” he murmurs before kissing me, touching his tongue to mine, making me moan.
“Wesley, wait,” I say, even as my arms snake around his neck and pull his body to mine. “Can’t,” he murmurs, palming my ass and I am dangerously close to making a very bad decision.
He pulls back just far enough to say, “Been missing this since yesterday.”
“No,” I say, stronger now, and he steps away immediately. “We can’t do this here.” I rub my finger along the outline of my lips, blindly trying to fix any smudges.
He wipes a spot on my chin. “You’re fine,” he says, sullen.
I take a deep breath, searching for some perspective in the space between us.
“Okay.” I point to the chair on the other side of my desk. “Sit,” I say, rounding the desk and taking a seat in my own chair.
He sits but watches me with a guarded expression on his face, fidgeting with his tie, crossing and uncrossing his legs. There are heart-eyed skunks on his socks. I watch him squirm for a moment, mostly because I can’t believe I had sex, multiple times, with a man who wears skunk socks, and also because I can’t believe the warmth in my chest tells me that I find it cute.
“I think we need to set some amendments,” I say, sliding my glasses on.
“Let me guess, is one of them: No Sex at the Office?”
I nod. Even I feel a little sad about this rule.
“I concede that that’s probably a good idea.” He scratches at the back of his head.
I press my lips together. “Yes.”
“Okay, then... I’ve thought of an amendment, too.”
“Of course.” I hold my hands out, to give him the floor.
He fiddles with his glasses. “Well, I’ve never... I’ve never had sex outside of a committed relationship,” he says, a flush crawling up his neck. “So, I guess, I don’t want to...”
He stops, taking a deep breath. “I’m not trying to say that we have to be a couple. But could we both agree not to have sex with anyone else?” He looks down at his hands, like he’s embarrassed. “I just don’t think I have it in me to be casual...with you.”
I nod.
“You think I’m old-fashioned?” he asks. “I’m twenty-five and I’ve never had a hookup.”
“No, it’s not that,” I say quickly. Before last week, I’d never had a hookup either.
When it comes to Wesley, I meant what I said: I want. Him and his capacity for caring. I want to be worthy of this person he is and be the woman he thinks I am. I want to be able to say everything, like he does, without worrying about how much of myself I’m giving away. But I can’t.
Wesley doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve or even on his socks. He rents ad space on highway billboards. He doesn’t have it in him to be so casual, and it’s a relief actually, that I’m not the only one who feels like they’re groping around in the dark.
But I don’t have it in me to be as open as him.
He smiles. “Okay. Well, what about...” He gestures over his shoulder.
“Your job? Well, it will look more like we expected at the beginning of all this. I do still need you to do some admin work for me. But that was always going to be case.” I wince. “I don’t want this to seem like I’m rewarding you, either, for...” I can’t even say it. Sex. “But I’ve held you back long enough and for no reason. You came here to work with me. So let’s work.”
He smiles. “No...well, that’s great. But...” He fiddles with his watchstrap. “Do we have to go back to pretending that we hate each other?”
“Oh.” I sit back in my chair, and try to hide my smile. “Yes.” I shrug. “I guess being nice to each other is okay.”
He’s quiet for a moment before a laugh escapes. “You’re funny.”
The only person who thinks I’m funny is my mother.
“You think I’m funny?”
He strolls to the door and looks over his shoulder, his hand on the handle. “Of course I think you’re funny. Why wouldn’t I think you’re funny?”
I feel like I’ve missed an important part of the conversation.
I’m okay with not being funny. Some people need to make other people laugh. But I value other qualities in myself. “I’m a lot of things, Wesley. But I’m not funny.”
“Well, then, why do I feel so happy whenever I’m with you?” he asks.
My face is blank, except for my eyes, which feel like they’re about to fall out of my face, and my cheeks, hot with delighted embarrassment.
He sighs, knocking his head gently against the closed door. “I concede that might have been a touch heavy for two people who are just hooking up. Albeit, exclusively.”
Forget highway billboards. He rents ad space in Times Square. And oh. I know that I need to be careful here, to not push his boundaries and keep work safe for him. But I didn’t realize how very gentle I need to be with his heart. And with mine. We have the capacity to hurt each other, not just professionally. A few weeks ago, I would have tried not to bat an eye at the thought. But now that I know him, I want to protect his heart as much as I want to protect mine.
“Do you want to come over tonight?” I ask.
He pauses, brushing his hair back, and says, “Yes.” He sounds relieved.
I nod. “Okay. Maybe around eight?”
“Sure.” He turns away to open the door.
“Do you really feel happy when you’re with me?” I say quickly and a little too loud.
Turning back to me, he frowns. “Of course I do,” he says, with his words and with the heat in his gaze.
He watches me quietly. “I want to kiss you right now. I want to show you with my mouth exactly how happy you make me.”
I press my thighs together. “That...that is not work appropriate, Mr. Chambers,” I say, trying to hide the smile on my face.
“Back to work, Ms. Blunt.”