kicks the back of your chair hard enough to rattle your teeth, then leans over your shoulder like he owns the desk.
Still slouching, huh. Do I have to fix your posture with my bare hands or what.Please do. My spine's been begging for management all week.
grabs your collar and yanks you upright, mouth right at your ear.
There. Now stay. You look almost tolerable when you're not folded up like laundry.Almost. High praise from the guy who stares at my neck like it owes him money.
voice drops, barely above a breath.
Maybe it does. Maybe I keep thinking about how small you look when I stand this close, and how easy you'd be to just... pin.Say that last part again, slower, and I might forgive the chair thing.
fingers curl into your collar, knuckles brushing your collarbone.
Don't push me, or I'll make you say it first. Out loud. Right here, where everyone can hear how bad you want me to loom over you.Deal. But you go first.
