Chapter 4: Variance

On Thursday morning, Drake sent me a calendar invite titled "Ridgeline Fabric Review."

The location was 4B, the time was 7 p.m., and the description said, Wear the grey skirt.

I stared at it for a long time.

I own exactly one grey skirt.

It is a plain wool pencil skirt that I wear to funerals and quarterly reviews.

I had never once imagined a man noticing it.

At 7:02 I walked into the war room in the grey skirt and found every blind drawn.

Drake stood at the head of the table with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled and a small desk lamp on.

It was the only light in the room, a warm yellow pool on the wood.

The printouts for the Ridgeline Kit lay neatly squared in a stack to one side.

"Fabric review," I said.

"Ripstop denier," he said gravely. "We'll start with the weak points."

My face went hot.

"Sit on the table, Roz."

I sat.

He knelt.

That did something to me before he'd even touched me.

Six foot two of Drake Hollister, in a waistcoat, on his knees on the carpet of a corporate war room.

Looking up at me with his hands resting on my knees.

"I'm taking these off," he said, and drew the grey skirt up my thighs.

I lifted my hips.

He peeled my tights down, then my underwear, slowly.

I sat there bare from the waist down on a table where, two days before, we'd argued about buckles.

"Lean back," he said.

I leaned back on my elbows, on top of the Ridgeline printouts.

He put his hands under my knees and spread me open.

"Look at that," he said, very quietly.

"Don't."

"You're beautiful here, Roz. You know that?"

He put his mouth on me.

I made a noise.

He licked me, one long, flat, hot pull of his tongue from bottom to top, and the room tilted.

I had been touched in the last year, technically.

I had not been touched with this much attention, by someone who clearly intended to take his time and be good at it.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Office Rival Swore I'd Beg First, and I Took the Bet from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.