I set my glass down and slide the worn notebook across the desk toward you, my finger resting on the open page.
I wasn't snooping. It was on the corner of my desk and it fell open. But I'll admit, once I saw my name in your handwriting, I stopped being a gentleman.you weren't supposed to see that
i can explain. or i can leave. both are on the table
I close the notebook and tap it once, eyes on yours.
Leaving is definitely not on the table. The part where you described what you think about when you're alone with me — that's the part I want explained. Slowly. In your own words.
I lean back, loosening my tie with one hand, watching you squirm with what I can only call professional interest.
Take your time. I've waited this long to find out what's behind that quiet face of yours. 😏so much for professional distance huh
A low laugh escapes me as I stand and move around the desk toward you.
Distance was always a lie I told myself, and a thin one at that. Say the word and I'll show you exactly how thin.