after she'd run into him in the server room. It had been too loud to talk, but the way he’d looked at her…she'd run to her desk, taken out the notebook and penned a little fantasy. They served to relieve the ache deep in the loins she got whenever she was alone with Parson. The man was devilishly sexy. With deep auburn hair, intense eyes that flashed green, amber and she swore sometimes gray, and a body to die for, he just did things to her.
Knowing it was foolish to want him the way she did, Dontae had started her little black book to work out all the riotous feelings he stirred in her, and in real life she tried like hell to stay as far away from him as possible. Guys like that liked the Barbie type, which she was definitely not. Her hips were a little too big, breasts too natural, and she didn't wear makeup or heels. Dontae liked who she was, liked the little bit of extra meat on her bones. But she was all too painfully aware her “type” was an acquired taste. Usually only men sporting liberal amounts of gray on their heads or seriously bony guys ever asked her out.
The thing she had for Parson seemed harmless enough. Sure she felt like ten kinds of a fool for not being about to speak a coherent sentence in his presence, so she avoided him and kept her crush to herself. Writing little fantasies wasn't hurting anyone. The outlet kept her from making a complete fool out of herself. And now he was reading it. Every dirty little thought that had ever crossed her mind about him was in that book. Things she’d never actually done, but always wanted to find the right person to do them with. Humiliation rode her hard as she struggled to pull in enough air to keep her from fainting. There was no way around what she had written. The name Parson was clear as a bell, and he would know.
She should turn and run. Go home sick until she found a plausible excuse. Right about now her mind had gone completely blank. He'd feel sorry for her, she knew. Parson was a nice guy, more or less. There was just the right touch of asshole in him to make him interesting, but not enough to kill a woman’s interest. He would look at her with those eyes, and she would see the pity. Damn it, she didn't want his pity.
But just as she was about to turn away and tiptoe into her boss’s office with a sob story about some kind of sudden illness, Parson looked up. His stare pinned her to the spot. Oh God, his eyes really were hot. Right now they were searing her. She should run. Just turn tail and get the heck out of dodge. But she couldn’t move. Parson’s gaze seemed to burn right through the heavy sweater and skirt. Did her bra just get a size too small, or had her nipples grown about an inch? It was just so wrong to be this turned on by the sight of a man who was madder than hell at her.
“Interesting reading.” That was odd. He didn’t sound like he pitied her, he sounded pissed. There was certainly anger in his eyes, and something else too. Something she couldn't name.
“I’m sorry.” Of course. She should’ve considered the possibility he might be upset finding he was the subject of a co-worker’s tawdry imagination. Parson didn't seem like the uptight type, but she barely knew him despite having worked with him for three years. “I didn’t mean to…I mean, I never meant for you to see it.” Never meant for anyone to see it.
Parson stalked toward her, expression fierce. How messed up was it that she got wet in response, her nipples tightening into granite? He didn't stop until he was directly in front of her, their bodies touching ever so slightly. Dontae was caught between the urge to run versus the urge to press closer. In the end she did neither, just waited for whatever he had to say.
“For three goddamn years I have watched you, wanted you, needed you. You rebuffed me at every turn. Pretended I didn’t exist. And now I find this?” Parson already had a deep voice, but now it vibrated with suppressed anger, mixed with a healthy dose of desire. He held up the book, his jaw clenched, looking like he just might push her against the wall and fuck her right there. God, that was so hot! “Everything you wrote in this book, you could have had. And now you’re going to have it all.” Her knees buckled ever so slightly. Holy crap, this was really happening. “Equipment room D in five minutes, Dontae. Don’t be late.”
Oh damn! That really just happened! There wasn’t anything in his expression to indicate he was anything less than dead serious. Leaning against the wall, Dontae pressed her hand to her chest in a futile effort to get her heart to slow down.
Just as he started to walk away, it occurred to her he still had her notebook.
“Um, Parson?” He turned, but didn't say anything. Just arched his brow and waited. Almost daring her. Dontae swallowed hard then pointed to the book. “Can I get my journal back?”
“No.” Dontae opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? The one-word statement was said in a way that left no doubt this wasn't open to negotiation. “The book stays with me. The next time you have a fantasy, you will tell me.
“What?” That didn’t mean what she thought it did. It couldn’t. He couldn’t be thinking….
“We are going to go to act out each and every one of these little stories, then make up some of our own.” Parson walked back to where she stood, bending down so they were nose to nose. “Don't ever try to hide from me again, Dontae. And you now have three minutes. Not a second more.”
3
Although he had been the one to issue the ultimatum, Parson was shaking a little as he entered the seldom- visited equipment room. It was the very same room Dontae had mentioned in the first story he’d read. There was not a lot a space to maneuver, but there was a table against the back wall, about waist high. Looking at it now, it was impossible not to imagine Dontae spread open for him there. Soon she would be. How strange a day that’d started out like any other had twisted and turned, bringing him the opportunity of a lifetime. He was bound and determined to make it count.
Glancing at his watch, he noted she had a little less than a minute to show. Would she? What would he do if she didn’t? The answer wasn’t really forthcoming, but he wasn’t going to ignore this thing between them. So much wasted time believing the other person wasn’t interested. Perhaps it was his fault. Maybe if he had pushed a little more, been a little more forthright. But then, he had a feeling Dontae would’ve run from that. In the end, maybe this was better. Now there was no doubt they wanted each other, and from what he had read, Parson was sure they were compatible.
Because the door only opened with a key, Parson heard Dontae long before the door pushed slowly open. She hesitated a little before stepping through, looking over her shoulder as she did so. There was no point in locking the door; the only way a person could get in was to have a key, and there were only two keys. He had a set as a section leader and the other hung in the main office, which Dontae had used to come in. Parson had to smile at that. She’d considered that when she wrote out her little fantasy, no doubt.
“You’re thirty seconds late.” Parson wasn’t really upset about it. However, he had been scared she might run. Now here she was, nervousness etched plainly on her face.
Parson wasn't sure whether it was fear or uncertainty that kept her hovering by the door as if she might dash at any moment. While she played with the hem of her sweater, there was still underlying heat in her hesitant gazes in his direction.
“Are you going to keep me waiting?” It was pushing, but he was sure she needed that.
“I’m not sure about this.” Dontae looked at him, down to the floor, then back at him. “Why are you doing this?”
He didn't answer. Wouldn’t. He could show her a hell of a lot better than he could tell her. Stalking to her until his body had pressed hers against the door, he grasped her hand and placed it on rock-hard proof of how badly he wanted her.
“This has lasted for three long fucking years, and it has been all for you.” He was growling, but fuck if he could help it. His cock pulsed with hunger, wanting her, needing her. Brushing his lips against the soft cushions of hers, Parson breathed her in. Whatever the hell perfume she wore was light, clean. Not overly floral or sickeningly sweet like so many women favored. The way she smelled made him ravenous. “Do you have any idea what finding out you have been hiding your true self from me is doing to me right now?” As he had wanted to do for so long, Parson took advantage of her stunned silence to move back, just a hair, but only to strip that goddamn bulky sweater from her. Her clothing fucking offended him. Everything keeping her from him offended him.
