So This Is War
Chapter 7

“I love you, but you look terrible,” Sandie says as she sits on my bed and stares at my useless body.

“I feel terrible.” I let out a yawn and sip some of the coffee that Sandie so nicely brought me.

“I can’t believe he made you get the bagels again. And he didn’t eat any. What the hell is that about? Is he stocking up to have a bagel party?”

“I have no idea. But if he asks me to get more tonight, I’m grabbing them from the local grocery store and passing them off as the good water bagels.”

Sandie chuckles. “I hope that you do.”

“And you know what? I went on Yelp to see if there was hype around these bagels, and there was some, but nothing spoke about the good water or the one-in-the-morning session. I think it’s all in his head.”

“Could very much be in his head. You know how athletes are. They’re all sorts of superstitious. Next time you’re near the bagel place, you should just buy two dozen and put them in my freezer so when he asks, you just have to drive to my place and grab them.”

“Oh . . . wow, I should have thought about that sooner.”

She pats my leg. “Blame it on the sleep deprivation.”

“I will, but yeah, next time I’m over there, I’m buying extra bagels and freezing them at your place. And guess what? I’m going to buy the bad water ones.”

“That will teach him,” she says on a laugh. “He make you do anything else crazy?”

“Not really. He seemed not to like my packing but then quickly said that he did like it and told me what a great job I was doing. It was a weird change of tone. Like he wants to be this tough guy but then pulls back for a moment. He’s hard to read. And oh my God, I didn’t tell you this, but when we were in his office, he saw a Post-it note I left for myself. And I have no doubt he looked up what was on the Post-it note.”

“What was on it?” Sandie asks.

“Patty Ford.”

“The girl I told you about?” Sandie asks.

“Yup, I wrote down the name because I didn’t want to forget, and then, bam, he saw it.”

Sandie shrugs. “If anything, he should be appreciative.”

I chuckle. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. I’m helping in all aspects of his life.”

“Did you see her logo contest, though?” Sandie asks.

“I did, and I started thinking up ideas last night on my drive to Port Hole Bagels and back. I think I’m going to draw some things up and see what you like best. It has to be sexy but not obvious.”

“And it would be great work because she’s offering a hefty prize for the winner. Maybe you can write in the entry form that you’re a woman entrepreneur like she is.”

“Ooo, good idea. She could appreciate that. Yeah, I think I’ll draw some things tonight or maybe tomorrow. I still have so many tasks to do on Levi’s list. I thought I’d be able to get more done, but between being sleep-deprived and having to drive around everywhere, I haven’t been able to do everything I want to. I still need to do the pencils and the Skittles. And then this stupid book,” I say, lifting the Vermont book. “Tell me when I’ll replace the time for this?”

Sandie takes the book from me and flips through the pages. “Do you really think he has a love for Vermont?”

“I don’t know. He’s an odd one, Sandie. You should have heard Halsey yesterday morning when he saw that I went out and got Levi his protein smoothie. He gave him shit for it, and Levi had the guiltiest look on his face.”

“I don’t know much about him, but he always seemed chill to me from all the online interactions . . . that you’ve shown me.”

I shrug. Yeah, I’ve shown her a lot.

“Still, this rewriting thing is so weird.” She flips open the first page, and a piece of paper falls out of it.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Probably instructions on how he wants the book typed up exactly.” We both laugh, and she flips open the page. I watch her eyes scan over it before her jaw drops, and her wide eyes look up at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh my God, Wylie.”

“What?” I say again, scooting closer. “Is it a diary entry or something?”

She shakes her head. “It’s an email from your father.”

“What?” I shout as I take the paper from her and start reading.

To: Levi Posey

From: Will Wood

Subject: Your List

Don’t fuck this up, Posey.

Aside from regular tasks like social media, retrieving your food, arranging your calendar, and being at your beck and call, here are a few tasks you need to give her this week:

Hand her a copy of a book. I don’t care what book, but give her a copy of it. Tell her you don’t like the font it’s written in, and have her type it out in a different font. Yes, have her type up the entire book, word for word. Tell her you want it in a week for your away trip to the Northeast.

Spill something on your floor. Don’t care what it is. But make it disgusting. Tell her she needs to clean it up and make it seem like it was never there.

Ask her to get you ten pounds of Skittles. The Skittles must be divided into colors and placed in separate jars. But you want more reds than any other color. At least half a jar more.

Have her purchase you fifty number two pencils. Have her sharpen them just enough so they’re pointed but not too much where they’re splintering. Use them as a decoration for a day and then have her donate them to a local school, but she must receive a receipt of the donation.

Text her in the middle of the night that you need something, anything. Make her get it for you.

After each task, I expect you to take a picture and inform me that it’s been completed. Do not let her off the hook. Don’t let her skate by. I want you to make her life a living hell, got it?

And don’t forget the rules. Don’t forget why you’re doing this. And mainly, don’t forget that she’s completely off limits.

My eyes slowly lift as anger sears through me.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I hop out of bed, all of my exhaustion fleeing as red-hot rage and adrenaline pulse through me. “Is this real?” I shake the paper at Sandie.

“It looks real to me.” She grabs it and scans the paper. “It’s printed out like a real email. Is that your dad’s real email?”

I snatch the paper again, looking over the email a few times. My eyes feel wild at the moment. When I realize that it is, my entire body breaks out into an angry sweat. “It is.” I toss the paper to the floor and start pacing the length of my tiny hole of a bedroom. “I can’t believe this.”

“What part can’t you believe?”

“All of it.” I toss my hands up in the air. “This is all a joke to him. To my dad. He’s not giving me a chance to prove to him that I can handle this. He’s trying to make me fail. That’s so . . . that’s so fucked up.”

“It is,” Sandie says softly. “I’m sorry, Wylie. You deserve better.”

“I do deserve better,” I reply. Hands on my hips, I stare down at the printed email as realization falls over me. “And he’s helping my dad.”

“Levi?” she asks.

I nod. “Yes. He’s helping him.” I look up at her. “All this insane shit that he’s made me do. The bagels. The writing of the goddamn book. The stain. The pencils. That’s all because of my dad’s direction. Direction that Levi is taking. Why would he listen to my dad? Why would he be a part of this?”

“Well, according to the email, it seems as though there’s a reason he’s doing this.” She picks up the paper and reads, “Remember why you’re doing this. Maybe . . . I don’t know . . . maybe he knew who you were that night and is pissed that you took off and is now trying to get back at you.”

I whip around to look at Sandie. “There’s no way he knew who I was, unless . . . do you think my dad saw us and confronted Levi after? Maybe Dad has been holding this over his head, and they’ve come together to get me back.”

“That seems very calculated,” Sandie says. “But also, slightly plausible.”

“Wow.” I shake my head as I cross my arms and sit back down on the bed. “I can’t fucking believe this. Here I thought I was actually getting a chance to do something different with my life, and it turns out it’s all a freaking setup. A setup to try to get me to do something I don’t want to do.”

“And I think we all know that you don’t do things you don’t want to do.”

“That’s correct.” Not to mention that my dad doesn’t care whether I fail or succeed. Why? Why would he do that? What parent deliberately sets up their only child to feel bad about herself? I lean against the headboard, feeling so incredibly hurt. So angry. So horrified at the fact that my dad thinks this is all a game. This isn’t a game. This is my life. And it’s about time he realizes he can’t control me anymore.

I run my tongue over my teeth, my mind whirling.

“Do you want to talk about what’s going on in your head? Because I can see you thinking over there, and I don’t want you to spiral.”

“It just sucks,” I say, my throat growing tight. “He’s never trusted me to make smart decisions for my life. He’s always controlled me. What school I went to. What I majored in. The people I hung out with. And now this. It’s just him tightening his grasp on me, and I’m done. I don’t want to be his puppet anymore. The leading player in his game.”

“Then don’t be.”

I shake my head. “I’m not going to.” I pull my legs into my chest. “And here I thought Levi was feeling bad about the things he was making me do. I thought I saw a shred of doubt in his eyes.”

“Maybe you did. Maybe he’s not fully in on this plan. I mean, the email does seem pretty threatening. Maybe he didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I say as I hug my knees and work my jaw to the side, a thought coming into my head.

Sandie notices. “What’s the evil look on your face for?”

“There’s no evil look.”

“Uh, yeah, there is. You went from sad to conniving in seconds.”

“I was just thinking, if they can play, why can’t I?”

“Oh boy, what do you mean by that?”

I sit up taller. “Well, I don’t want to give this up. This place to live, this job, because it is money and gives me the opportunity to do what I want to do. I will admit that it’s a pretty decent setup so I can get my feet on the ground and get myself established. But what if . . . what if I had fun with it?”

“Like get the wrong bagels?”

“That, but so much more.” Excitement pulses through me as an idea formulates in my head. “There’s chemistry between Levi and me. It’s obvious from the way I catch him checking me out and blatantly obvious from the night we first met. Also, he’s told me he replaces me incredibly attractive, so what if I use that to my advantage to torture him?”

“Oh dear God,” Sandie says as I snatch the email from her.

“Look, right here at the bottom, it says, don’t fuck her. My dad distinctly warned Levi against such behavior, so what if I make it impossible for him not to fuck me?”

Sandie rubs her temples. “You know, I think we could go a different direction. I think we could have a constructive conversation with your father and then with Levi and let them know you’re disappointed in both of them.”

I shake my head. “No, they want to battle? Well, this is war now. My dad wants to teach me a lesson? Well, I’m going to teach him one. That lesson being don’t mess with me.” Feeling empowered, I continue, “I’m going to prove to him that despite his negativity and lack of belief in me, I can make a career out of what brings me joy. And Levi, well, he’s going to learn the hard way that I’m not one to mess with either. He’s going to learn very quickly what he’s missing out on by helping my dad.”

Sandie slowly nods. “And you’re not up for a conversation?”

“Sure, is that the adult thing to do? Probably, but what will it actually accomplish? I tried having a conversation with my dad before all of this, and this is where we ended up. It’s not going to do anything. I have to show him with action.”

“And Posey?” she asks.

“He made me get bagels at one in the morning, two nights in a row, and didn’t even eat them. Payback is a bitch.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, that sucks. What exactly does payback entail?”

“Erotic torture,” I say, staring at the wall.

She laughs. “I think that’s a first I’ve heard for payback. Erotic torture, okay, tell me what that entails.”

“Ohhh, I don’t think you’re ready for this,” I say, feeling slightly crazed.

“I’m ready,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “Lay it on me.”

Leaning forward, I paint her a picture. “Erotic torture is the apex of blue ball-ism.”

“Did you make up that word?”

“Perhaps,” I reply. “Erotic torture is a fine art, a master class in corrupting unsuspecting cocks.”

“Ehh, are you okay?” she asks.

“Never been better,” I say as my eyes go wild. “Envision this . . . me, no bra, just a tank top, walking around his space, flirting with him, touching him, resting my hardened nipple on his forearm. Driving him so crazy with need, with lust, that he’ll walk around with a constant hard-on. He wakes up with one, works out with one, plays his games with one. Hard-on after hard-on after hard-on. And no amount of dingo dangling with it will the hard-on become flaccid. He will be hard for the ages.” I move my hand across the sky, staring up at the ceiling.

Sandie is silent for a second. “A few comments. Dingo dangling is a first for me. I’m not sure where that came from, but it will never leave my head. Ever. Second, using the word flaccid, was that by choice?”

“Dingo dangling was a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants terminology,” I say. “And flaccid, yes, that was by choice. Nothing is sadder than a flaccid dick.”

Sandie slightly nods. “Agreed, and hey, this plan, it seems like fun, but what happens when he cracks? Because I have a feeling he will.”

“Then I win . . . in multiple ways.” I wink.

“And the end goal?”

I smile at my friend. “To show these men that women are not their puppets.”

“And what are we?” she asks.

“Strong, confident, smart, and in no need for a penis to dictate our future.” I raise my fist to the sky, feeling drunk off power.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m all in. What can I do to help?”

I stare at my friend and smile. “I need to borrow some of your shirts.”

“Why? They’re way too small for your chest size.”

I smile at her. “Exactly.”

LEVI: I know this might sound crazy, but can you get more bagels tonight?

I stare down at his text, my teeth grinding together as I read his request over and over. The freaking audacity. Oh, he’ll be getting his bagels. He’ll have so many bagels he won’t know what to do with them.

Wylie: Not a problem. Same count and type?

Levi: Yeah, and can you freeze them?

Wylie: Not a problem. I don’t know how much room is left in the freezer, but I’ll shift some things around.

Levi: Thank you.

Wylie: Anything for you . . . Mr. Posey. And good luck tonight.

Levi: It’s Levi. And thanks.

WYLIE: Anything I can help you with today? Your pencils have been sharpened and are beautifully displayed on the dining room table. Skittles have been sorted and are waiting for consumption. I’m almost done with the book, and I must say, Vermont is such an interesting state. I can’t wait to discuss it with you over a bagel when you get back. Oh, and I took it upon myself to fold all your underwear a certain way to fit better in your dresser.

Levi: Wow, you’ve been busy. Thanks. The underwear sounds interesting. Can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it. And as for other tasks, yeah, do you think you could pull all my laundry out of my drawers and rewash it all, fold it, and put it away? I love walking into my closet and smelling fresh clothes when I get home.

Wylie: I know the smell you’re referring to. Delicious. Sure thing. Want me to add some fabric softener? I saw that you don’t have any.

Levi: That would be awesome. Thanks. And how did that stain come out?

Wylie: Perfect, looks brand new. Get ready to do your best eating.

Levi: Wow, I’m impressed.

Wylie: Also went shopping for you, so food is stocked up. I’ve also been learning to make that protein smoothie you like so much, and I think I’ve nailed it. I’ll make it for you when you get back.

Levi: Great. Thanks.

Wylie: Okay, safe travels. See you later tonight.

Levi: Yeah, see you tonight.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING RIGHT NOW?” Sandie asks over the phone.

“Spraying Levi’s clothes.”

“What?” Sandie asks on a chuckle.

“He asked me to rewash all of his clothes, and there was no way I was going to do that, so I picked up some fabric spray, and I’m giving them a spray down to avoid extra work.”

“Ooo, smart.”

“Thank you. Also stocked up on grocery store bagels and froze those. The fucker won’t even know the difference. And I did what you said to do with the book, wrote the first few pages and then just copy and pasted shit from the internet and formatted it. Doubt he’ll even read it.”

“Did you bind it together like a book?”

“Yup, he’s going to think I’m a magician.”

Sandie laughs. “And the placemat?”

“Found it at West Elm. Bought three on sale, just in case he tries to pull another stain stunt.”

“You are my hero.”

“Thank you, I try. Oh, and because I half-fisted all of my tasks, I was able to sit on his comfy couch today and work on that entry for Patty Ford.”

“How did it come out?” she asks as I open his underwear drawer and spray the fabric down.

“I think okay. I took a screenshot of her and did a silhouette of her body. Still working in the right lettering, but I think it could be a viable option. I want to make a few options, some sexy ones and some discreet ones.”

“I think that’s smart. When’s the boss supposed to be home?”

“Anytime now.”

“What are you wearing?”

Smirking to myself, I say, “A pair of loose-fitting sweatpants being held up single-handedly by my hips and your Mickey Mouse shirt.”

“Oh my God, Wylie.” She laughs. “That shirt is short on me. What the hell does it look like on you?”

“A toddler’s shirt. I had a very hard time getting it over my breasts. Most of my stomach is showing, not wearing a bra, and I plan on playing with my nipples right before he gets home so they’re hard as stones.”

“You’re evil, but also, I’m interested to see how long he can hold out. I’m invested.”

“I’m interested to see as well,” I say.

“And when he gives in, will you give in too?”

“You know, I thought about that, and I don’t know. I’d have to see how it is at the time.”

“I think that’s fair,” she says. “But also for your sake, I hope you give in. I know how much you’ve wanted him.”

“That was before I found out he was in cahoots with my father. Now . . . now I’m seeking revenge.”

“No, you’re seeking erotic torture.”

We both laugh. “He has no idea what’s coming for him.” I hear some fumbling at the front door, so I whisper, “Oh shit, I think he’s here. Talk later.”

“Bye,” she says as I quickly toss the fabric spray under his bed, making a mental note to collect it later.

Before I walk out into the living room, I play with my nipples quickly, making them poke against the fabric of the shirt.

Perfect.

Feeling good, I strut out of his bedroom and down the hall where I get my first glance at him.

He’s wearing the sweatsuit I picked out for him, and his hair looks like he’s been running his hand through it for the better portion of the flight. He’s left the scruff on his jaw, and there’s some light bruising around his eyes where he got hit in the head the other day. And to my demise, he looks so fucking good that it pains me to have to conduct erotic torture on him . . . because I think it’s going to be just as torturous on me.

Stepping in closer, I say, “Welcome home.” He glances to the side, and immediately, his eyes fall to my breasts.

Classic.

I could read this man like a book.

He wets his lips before his eyes slowly move up to my face. “Uh, hey,” he says before looking away.

“How was the flight?” I walk up to him, letting my breasts skim across his arm before I take his bag from his hand to set it down.

He shivers from the touch and steps back. “It was, uh . . . it was good.”

“That’s great to hear.” I smooth my hand over his arm.

“Yeah,” he squeaks. “Great flight. Just great. All around great.” He backs up to the kitchen island chairs. “Really, uh, great.”

I smirk at him. “Sounds like it was great.” I wink and then add, “I’m guessing it’s better to fly home when you win than when you lose. I’m sure my dad is a nightmare to be with on a flight after a loss.”

His eyes fall to my chest again before he glances away. “He, uh, he doesn’t really say much for a win or a loss.”

I take a step closer. “And here I thought he raged. Well, anyway, welcome home. Let me show you what I’ve done.” I take his hand, which he seems surprised by, and lead him to the dining room table, where his pencils are set up. I pick up the vase and say, “What do you think? Perfectly sharpened, right?”

His eyes remain fixed on me for a moment as if he’s trying to study me, and then he looks back down at the pencils. “Wow, yeah, those look sharpened.” He pulls on the back of his neck, looking so uncomfortable. Just the way I want him.

“Sniff one.”

“Huh?” he asks.

I take his hand in mine again, force him to grab one of the pencils, and bring it up to his nose. “Sniff it like a flower. I know how much you love the smell.”

“Sure, yeah. Love a good sniff.” He leans close to the pencil and takes a short but quick sniff. His eyebrows shoot up as he says, “Woodsy. That’s nice.”

“That’s what I thought when I smelled it,” I say as I press my hand to his chest. His eyes fall to my hand and dart back up to me. “It was a pleasure sharpening those for you, Levi.”

His eyes widen slightly as he sets the pencil back in the vase. “Good to know.” He takes a step back from me and sticks his hands in his pockets, clearly trying to keep his distance.

Inwardly smiling, I turn away from him and bend at the waist, making sure to stick my ass out as I put the vase back down, giving him a great view. When I glance over my shoulder, I catch him checking me out. Yup, this is going to be so much fun.

“And then here are your Skittles,” I say, showing them off at the kitchen counter. “I hope I did it right. Was this what you were looking for?” I stand behind the containers, my breasts right at the same eye level. I watch his eyes scan the Skittles but mainly remain on my chest.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Exactly what I was looking for.”

And thank God my nipples are still hard because what a show for him right now.

“Great.” I walk around the island and take his hand again. I pick up his bag and guide him toward his bedroom.

“Uh, what are you doing?” he asks.

“Unpacking your bag for you. And I think I should get that sweatsuit into the wash. I saved a light load so I could add your travel clothes into the washer and dryer when you got home. Oh, and I ordered some dinner for you. Steak and potatoes. Not sure if that’s your meal of choice, but figured I’d give it a try. Should be here soon.”

I set his bag down on the bed and sit him next to it. “Do you want to get undressed so I can take those clothes?”

“In front of you?” he asks on a gulp.

I chuckle. “You can if you want, but if you’re shy about your body, you can change in the bathroom and hand me your sweatsuit.”

“I’m not shy, just . . . don’t want to be creepy is all.”

“Remember what I said, Levi.” I place my hand on his shoulder and lean into him. Our noses are mere inches from touching. “This is not your typical boss/assistant relationship. We are going to get intimate with each other.”

“We . . . we are?” he asks as I grip the hem of his sweatshirt and pull it up and over his head. To my surprise, he’s not wearing a shirt under it, and dear God in heaven . . .

Oh fuck me, he’s so hot.

Ughhh, look at his chest.

It’s so thick, so large. So broad. He’s a big man but packed with muscle. His pecs protrude off his chest, flat but muscular. His shoulders and arms are shapely, carved and rock hard like made from stone. And then he has a set of abs I really wasn’t expecting at all. They’re not nearly as defined as what I’ve seen on some of his other teammates, but this man is also a bruiser. He’s dense and built on protein and weight.

And of course because he’s a brawny, sexy man, there’s the lightest smattering of chest hair across his pecs that he keeps well trimmed. I’m far too tempted to drag my fingers over the stubble.

Looking away, I say, “Not that kind of intimate.” I try to laugh it off. Maybe this erotic torture will be harder than I thought. Especially with the ripped body this man’s working with. “Do you need me to take off your sweats too, or can you handle that? I can get on my knees and remove them for you.”

“No,” he says loudly. “I can, uh, I can do that.” But he doesn’t move.

“Well, are you going to remove them?”

“Yup.” He slowly nods but still doesn’t move.

“Okay, but do you realize you say you’re going to remove them, yet you haven’t removed them?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So see where I’m confused. Because if you need help, I have no problem taking your clothes off for you. I can slip my hands right under the waistline and⁠—”

“I got it,” he says quickly and then stands from the bed and pushes his sweats down, leaving him in his black boxer briefs.

He holds the sweats out to me, but my eyes land on the bulge between his legs, the very large bulge.

He’s half hard. He has to be.

If he’s not, then sleeping with him is going to be a no, thank you. If that’s flaccid Posey penis, then it’s not fitting in me, that’s for damn sure.

“I’m, uh . . . I’m sorry about . . .” He gestures toward his crotch.

“Why apologize?” I say with another wink. “It’s hot.” And as I turn away from him with sweats in hand, my legs quiver with yearning. I toss the sweats in the closet where the washer and dryer are and then open his bag to pull out his dirty laundry. “Did you happen to use any of the condoms I packed you?” I ask as he stands next to me. From the corner of my eye, I catch just how muscular his thighs are, and for some reason, it’s a huge turn-on for me. Like stick a watermelon between those thighs, and he’s cracking it open on one pulse.

“Uh, no,” he says.

“Oh, that’s sad. Couldn’t replace a willing participant?” I ask.

“Didn’t look for one.”

“No?” I reply as I gather his dirty laundry and take it to the closet. “Why not?”

“Distracted,” he says from his bedroom, still just standing there. “Uh, you know, I think I might take a shower.”

“Good idea, get that plane off you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I hear him move into the bathroom and click the door shut. I shove the laundry in the washer and then grab my phone.

Wylie: He’s frazzled, Sandie. He has stared at my breasts at least a half dozen times since he’s come home.

Luckily, Sandie is quick to text me back.

Sandie: Excellent. *Insert evil laugh* What’s he doing now?

Wylie: Taking a shower.

Sandie: Seems to me like you need to walk in there and ask him a question.

Wylie: OMG, should I?

Sandie: If we’re conducting erotic torture, then yes, you need to walk in there while he’s soaping up.

Wylie: And this is why we’re friends. I’ll report back.

I pocket my phone, and with some mustered-up courage, I open the bathroom door.

“Uh, hello?” he asks.

“Hey, just me,” I say casually, helping myself in.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his back toward me. The shower is foggy so I can’t see anything other than his silhouette. Shame. I was hoping to see a little ass at least.

“Just came in to grab your underwear. I assume you want this washed as well.”

“Sure,” he says in a tense voice.

“Oh, and I checked on the food. Should be here in the next twenty minutes.”

“Yup, that’s great.”

“I can set it up on your favored placemat if you want. Dining room or kitchen island?”

“Kitchen island is fine,” he answers, not moving.

“Sounds good. Can I get you anything else?”

“Just some privacy,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Oh.” I laugh. “Sorry about that.” I grab his underwear and head toward the door. “Enjoy your shower.”

And then I leave, smiling brightly to myself. Yup, this is going to be a lot of fun.

“OOO, YOU SMELL AMAZING,” I say as I walk by a freshly showered Levi, who is now wearing a pair of shorts and a simple heather gray T-shirt with an Agitators logo on the front. The sleeves strain around his biceps and chest while the torso clings to his muscled body. I lean into him. “Is that your soap or cologne?”

He clears his throat as he takes a seat at the island. “Soap.”

“Wow. It’s amazing,” I say as I let my hand drag over the contours of his back before I move to the fridge to grab him a drink. “Would you like a soda?”

He’s silent for a second, and when I look over my shoulder, his eyes revert from my ass to me. “You, uh, you don’t have to serve me, Wylie.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll grab you a Diet Coke.” I grab one for myself as well and take a seat next to him at the island, but I angle my body to face him and rest my feet on the rung of his chair. “Here you go.” I slide the soda over to him, not really giving him any space from me. “Hope you don’t mind if I eat here with you. I hate when my little bedroom smells like food. Stinks up my clothes. Also, we can catch up.”

“Sure, yeah, you can eat here.”

“Great.” I pull the food out of the paper bag and say, “Hope you don’t mind that I got myself a salad. I can pay you back later. Just thought it would be easier.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, Wylie.”

“Oh, I’m not going to be a freeloader. I’ll pay you back . . . somehow.” I wink, and he quickly looks away as he picks up his fork and knife, ready to eat. “How was the trip? Do anything fun? We already know that you didn’t do anybody fun, but perhaps you did something else while you were away?”

He shakes his head. “Just hockey.”

“Not even a fun meal with the guys?”

He shakes his head again as he opens his container and stabs one of his potatoes with a fork rather aggressively. “All the guys went straight to their rooms. OC met up with a friend, so I was kind of on my own.”

“What were the guys doing in their rooms?”

“Calling their girls.”

“Oh,” I say as I pop open my steak salad. “Like frisky FaceTimes?”

“Pretty much,” he says on a sigh, then cuts into his steak, which cuts like butter.

“You say that as if it makes you sad. Do you wish you were FaceTiming someone?”

He looks over at me and says, “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Well, you can always FaceTime me,” I say. And then for the hell of it, I shimmy at him and say, “I could make it fun for you.”

He glances down at my bouncing breasts and then back at his steak. “You sure as hell could.”

“Ooo, I take that as you’re interested. You know, topless FaceTimes will come at a surcharge, but I’ll make it worth it.” I joke around, but from the tension in his shoulders, he’s anything but in a joking mood, which means I’m doing my job.

Not so fun being played around with, is it, Levi?

When he makes no attempt at a comment, I say, “Well, if interested, we can add it to my duties. Shimmy for boss. I actually have some pretty great lingerie. I have this one set that ties together like a bow in the front. With one tug, it’s hello breasts.”

The grip on his fork tightens as he says, “Yeah, we’re not crossing that line, remember?”

“I know, but just putting it out there, though.” I run my hand over his back. “You seem so tense, like you need someone to loosen you up. I can’t have my boss unhappy.” I run my hands over his shoulders. “Ooo, you’re really tense. Everything is all bunched up here. Do you need me to massage you? Because I can. I used to give out massages all the time in college.”

“What kind of massages?” he asks when he glances my way.

“All kinds . . .” I wiggle my brows. “Obviously not for money, but the few guys I dated loved my hand⁠—”

He bounds out of his chair, startling me back as he grips his forehead in distress. He turns in a few circles, almost confused as to what he should do next. After a few seconds, he says, “You know, maybe we should change the subject.”

“Oh, why? Did I say something bad?” I act innocent even though I’m the furthest thing from it.

“No . . . I mean, yes . . . ugh, not really.” He pinches his brow. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.”

“Anything I can help you get off your mind?” I say as I puff my chest out just a touch more.

His eyes take the bait, and I catch him wet his lips right before he starts shaking his head, almost as if he needs to convince himself. “No. Nope. Nothing you can do. I can, uh, I can handle it myself.”

“Why are you so jittery?” I ask.

“Because.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “Just . . . fuck, I wasn’t expecting you to be here when I got home, so I’m a little jumpy is all.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I can leave.” I stand from my chair. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not. You’re fine.” He mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so fine.” He drags both hands over his face, and I can see the strain in his body. I can see his will coming close to snapping. When his eyes open again, they land on my breasts, and I know my nipples are hard because I’m turned on. Turned on from having this much control over a man. I’ve barely done anything, and he’s squirming. There’s something so empowering about that.

“Well, how about I just take my salad and give you some space. I’ll be back in an hour to change the laundry.”

“I can do that,” he says quickly. “I can change it out.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind coming back.”

He shakes his head. “Just take the night off. You’ve done a lot.”

“Okay, if you insist.” I start to gather my dinner when I remember the book. “Oh, almost forgot.” I walk over to his living room and pull the bound book I made of Vermont for him. “Here’s everything typed up and put in Arial font. I added some pictures just to make it interesting for you. I hope you enjoy it.”

He stares down at the book, dumbfounded, then back at me. “You put it in binding?”

“I’m efficient, Levi,” I say as I poke his chest. “Ooo, that’s strong. I probably shouldn’t say this, but you have an amazing body. I noticed when I took your sweatshirt off. Too bad for the girls who missed out the other night, right? Oh, by the way, if you want, I can handle any type of dating profile you want to put together. I can swipe left or right for you, choose girls I think you might like.”

“Yeah, not interested in dating at the moment.”

“Right,” I say, booping him on the nose. “Only fucking. Well, I can put that in the profile. Looking for one-night stands.”

Once again, he shakes his head. “Not necessary.”

“Okay, well, the option is there. Now I’m going to take my salad back to my room, despite not liking eating in there. I’ve been working on a design for a contest. Have you ever heard of Patty Ford?”

His eyes widen a little as his cheeks flush.

Oh, he so looked her up. I like that he did.

My only question is, did he get off to her?

I hope so . . . because I know I did.

“Uh, no, who is she?”

Such a liar. Adorable.

“An erotic entertainer. And I know what you’re thinking, that’s a fancy way to say porn star, but she doesn’t do it with other people. She is more about trying to have a one-on-one experience with the fans. Sort of like an OnlyFans account, but she’s designed her own website so she takes all the money. Brilliant if you ask me. Well, she’s looking for a new logo, and I decided to enter the contest. I’ve been working on some designs and want to finalize them tonight. Studying her has been fun. There’s something about her that just gets me so hot.”

His cheeks redden even more. “Uh, really?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah. I must have gotten off three times already just working on this logo.”

He pulls on his neck, the strain in his chest and forearms evident. “Cool, yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll check her out.”

“You should. There’s this one video where she tells you what to do, could be for a man or woman. And as she talks to you, she starts stripping. Oh my God, it’s so hot. A must watch. I was throbbing by the time I allowed my fingers to finish myself off.” I smile brightly at his tortured expression. “All right, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything, oh . . . before I leave, are you going to need bagels tonight that you won’t be eating?”

He slowly shakes his head. “No. I think I’m good.”

“Great. Okay, have a good night.”

And with that, I’m out of his apartment feeling fully satisfied with myself.