by Alex Grayson
I set my phone down and glance back at the menu as I wait for his reply.
Sterling: Business meetings all day. What are you doing right now?
I peek around the restaurant again, wondering if I should tell him the truth. I hate liars, and I don’t want to become one, so I decide on the truth.
Me: I’m sitting in a restaurant, getting ready to eat.
His reply is almost instant, but before I can look, the waitress comes back. She takes my order and saunters off in her black flats.
Sterling: Why are you sitting in a restaurant alone?
I bring my head up and look around the room again. There’s no way he can know I’m alone unless he’s watching, and the thought alone sends pleasure through my treacherous body. What in the hell is wrong with me?
Me: Are you watching me again?
I wait anxiously for a reply, stupidly excited at the thought.
My phone pings again in my hands, just as someone calls my name.
“Poppy?”
Feeling frustrated at being interrupted, I tear my gaze away from my phone and look up into a pair of piercing green eyes.
Caught off guard by the man standing in front of me, I do the only thing I can do at the moment—sit there and stare like an idiot. Mr. Knight’s suit jacket is missing and the sleeves of his black dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows, making his tattoos stand out. His hair has that rough and tumble look, and there’s a light layer of dark scruff on his face. I just saw him not even forty-five minutes ago, but the sight of him makes me breathless nonetheless. There’s something about the man that always sends tingles all over my body.
He clears his throat, reminding me that I’ve been staring at him for the last several seconds. I blink and drop my gaze to the phone that’s in my lap, embarrassed.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, still stunned he’s standing in front of me. This doesn’t seem like his kind of restaurant.
Instead of answering, he cocks his head to the side, watching me, and asks a question of his own. “Are you eating alone?”
Everywhere his eyes touch feels like a soft caress, causing my body to go into sensory overload.
“Yes… I mean, no.” I shake my head. I’m rambling, and making a fool of myself. “Yes, I’m eating alone. Eric was supposed to meet me, but he had car trouble.”
“Really?” His brows shoot up in surprise. “What a shame. I’m alone as well. Mind if I join you?” he asks, indicating the chair across from me with his chin.
“Sure,” I say nervously, fiddling with the tablecloth that’s hanging over the edge.
As soon as his butt hits the seat, the waitress comes over and offers him a menu. He doesn’t take it, but instead rattles off his order, indicating that he’s eaten here before. His eyes never leave mine as he talks to the waitress. I start to get nervous, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I tell myself it’s not because of the small ache between them, but I know it’s a lie. This guy is intense and demands attention, and my body is all too willing to oblige.
Why is it that the thought of sitting here eating with Eric doesn’t excite me like it does with Mr. Knight? And why am I still clutching my phone, wanting to look down at what Sterling’s response was, even though I’m currently mesmerized by someone else? This doesn’t bode well for me, and makes me feel like a hussy.
“How long have you and Eric been seeing each other?” Mr. Knight asks, leaning back in his seat, getting comfortable.
“We, uh… we aren’t. We were just having a friendly dinner after work,” I tell him, and watch him smirk. It’s sexy as hell.
After a minute, he murmurs, “I see.” He rests his clasped hands on the table. “So, Poppy, tell me about yourself.”
I blanch at his question, not sure how to respond, and wondering why he’s even sitting here with me. I clear my throat, trying to gather my thoughts.
“Why?” I question him, instead of answering.
He shrugs his wide shoulders. “I’m curious. You’ve worked for me for almost a year now, and you’ve never revealed anything personal.”
“The same could be said for yourself,” I retort, shocking myself.
He chuckles, the sound playing havoc on my senses, and sounds oddly familiar—which is strange because I’ve never heard him laugh before.
I shift in my seat. He notices the movement and smirks again.
“This is true. Is there anything you’d like to know?”
There’s a lot of things I’d like to know about Mr. Knight, but I’d never have the nerve to ask.
The waitress comes back with our drinks, and to tell us our food will be out momentarily. I snatch my drink up and take a healthy swallow. The sweet wine falls smoothly down my dry throat. When I place the glass back on the table, I look back at Mr. Knight to see him still watching me with his bright green eyes. He lifts a brow as if in question, reminding me of our conversation before the waitress came up.
“There’s not much to tell, Mr. Knight—”
“Asher,” he interrupts.
“Excuse me?”
“Call me Asher.”
“Oh, umm… I’m not sure if I should. I mean, I work for you.”
“So?”
“So, wouldn’t it seem inappropriate?” I ask, confused at the turn of the conversation. He’s never asked me to call him Asher before. Why now?
“Do I look like a man who cares what other people think? I have several employees that call me Asher, and I work the closest with you. It would be more appropriate for you to call me by my first name than anyone else in the company.”
His reasoning is sound, but it still seems strange to call him Asher. I’ve called him Mr. Knight since the beginning. Although, it may feel weird, the thought of calling him by his first name sends pleasure racing through me. I’ve always loved the name Asher.
“Okay,” I say shyly with a smile, “Asher.”
It’s subtle, but it feels like the air thickens around us when I say his name. His eyes change from a bright green to a deeper forest color. The shift in the air has my thighs clenching and my stomach cramping. I stiffen in my chair, my hand crushing the phone in my hand, reminding me of the question I asked Sterling and the reply I still haven’t looked at yet. I’m conflicted. I desperately want to glance down at my phone, but I don’t want to take my eyes off Mr… Asher. Even saying his name in my head gives me shivers.
“How long have you lived in the Atlanta area?” Asher asks, bringing me back to the moment.
I take another sip of my wine before replying.
“All my life, actually. My parents moved here before I was born.”
Bringing up my parents causes a sharp pain in my chest. I rub my sternum to try to relieve some of the ache.
“Are you okay?” Asher inquires, concern evident in his voice.
I give him a sad smile.
“Yeah. It’s just…” I stop and take a deep breath. It’s always hard talking about my parents. I have no idea why I am now, with Asher.
“They’re both gone, and it’s still painful to think about them,” I tell him honestly.
Surprising me, Asher reaches across the table, places his hand over mine and gives it a gentle squeeze. Even through the seriousness of the situation, the warmth of his hand on mine has my body heating up.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he voices quietly.
An odd sense of comfort washes over me with his words. “Thank you.”
His hand remains on mine, his fingers rubbing circles on the back of my hand. I watch the movement, unable to tear my eyes away. I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m not sure I want it to stop. Asher has always made me nervous, but my body is so aware of him. I like his touch on me.
The waitress comes back with our food, breaking the spell. I pull my hand back and immediately feel the loss. When I look up at him, he’s looking at me with the same expression he did earlier today. It’s the same look of desire I thought my mind conjured up, except this time, it s
eems to be more profound.
Dazed at what has transpired between us, I look away from him and down to my lap. Needing a distraction, I bring my phone to life to sneak a peek at Sterling’s message while the waitress places our food in front of us and refills our drinks.
It’s a simple one-word reply.
Sterling: Yes.
My head automatically lifts to look around the room, noticing several more tables have been filled since Asher showed up. However, each table now has a couple, who are in their own worlds, talking in hushed conversations. No one is looking our way, and nothing looks out of the ordinary.
How can he stay hidden so well?
Is he watching right now as I sit here with Asher? Is he angry I’m having dinner with another man? I want to text him back, but know that it would appear rude for me to do so.
“Is there a problem?” Asher asks.
Feeling guilty for looking for one man while I’m having dinner with another, I stop my perusal of the room and focus back on Asher.
“No. Sorry,” I mutter.
We sit for a few minutes in silence as we both start eating. The quiet should be uncomfortable, but it’s unexpectedly not. This is my first time at this restaurant, and I have to admit, it’s very good.
“What do you do for fun, Poppy?” Asher inquires after putting his fork and napkin on the table beside his plate.
I wipe my mouth with my own napkin and set it down in my lap.
“Fun? Well, I enjoy reading. And taking walks in the park down the road from my house. I always bring a few pieces of bread to feed the ducks while I’m there.” I think for a minute, not really sure what he wants to hear. My life is pretty boring, so I wouldn’t really constitute what I call fun something he would enjoy. “I also like going to the drive-in theater. It reminds me of when my parents took me as a kid. We’d go and watch two movies in one night.”
Asher watches me as I talk, taking in every word I say. I like that’s he seems so interested in what I have to say.
“What about you?” I question, more than a little curious about him.
“I don’t have much time for fun anymore, but I enjoy working out. Sometimes, I go fishing as well.”
“Fishing? Really?” I can’t hide my surprise. There is no way this man enjoys fishing.
He chuckles at my shocked expression.
“What can I say? It’s relaxing.”
I laugh. “I just can’t picture you wearing a fishing vest filled with hooks and water boots.”
“No vest and boots, just shorts and a T-shirt. Or no shirt at all if it’s hot enough,” he remarks, and holy hell, he winks!
Images of him with no shirt on flow through my mind. What a sight that would be to see. The thought no sooner enters my mind when I feel my face heat and sparks shoot between my legs. Asher’s smug look says he knows where my thoughts went.
“Have you ever been fishing?” he asks, thankfully ending my embarrassment.
I nod. “My dad and I would go all the time when I was younger. He and my mom used to pick on me because I refused to put the worm on the hook. I could clean fish all day long, but putting that worm on the hook? No way.”
I shudder, then laugh in remembrance.
We talk for a few more minutes. Overall, not much is said between us, but it still feels like a lot because we’ve never talked about anything other than work. I’m taken aback when I realize for the last half hour, I’ve felt comfortable in his presence, something that’s never happened before. Although he’s still a very intense man, my nerves finally calmed, and I was able to relax and enjoy myself around him.
The waitress discreetly slips the folder with the bill on the table. I reach out to grab it, intent on paying for my portion, even though Eric said he told them to put it on his tab, but Asher seizes it before I get a chance.
“I was going to pay—”
“No,” he says, handing a matte black card and the check back to the waitress.
“No?” I ask, dumbfounded by his abrupt tone.
It softens as he looks back at me and says, “It’s my treat. You kept me company instead of letting me eat alone. It’s the least I can do.”
I don’t know why, but his words bring me happiness in knowing he enjoyed the time he spent with me.
He puts his signature down on the receipt and we both get up to leave. I don’t want the day to end. I’ve really enjoyed sitting with him and hearing him talk. Disappointment sets in when I realize I never really got the chance, or rather, I never worked up the courage to ask him any questions.
A sigh escapes my lips when I realize I may not ever get another opportunity.
“Something wrong?” Asher asks as we make our way out of the restaurant.
“No.” I smile up at him.
“Where did you park?”
I look around, pointing to the end of the block. “Just around the corner there.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” I protest. “It’s not that far.”
“I realize that, but I’d still like to walk you to your car. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I didn’t.”
Well, okay then.
“Okay.” Not sure what else to say, I start walking in the direction of my car and he falls into step beside me.
“Nice car,” Asher compliments once we’re standing in front on my Monte Carlo.
“Thanks,” I say proudly. “It was my dad’s.”
When I turn to face him, his eyes show sympathy.
“You miss them a lot, don’t you?”
I look down at my keys in my hand before bringing my head back up and looking to the side.
“I do,” I say quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mom with my whole heart, and I miss her every day, but my dad and I had a special bond.”
I grow quiet, thinking about my dad. It’s been five years since he died, but it feels like it was yesterday. The hurt hasn’t lessened; I’ve only learned how to cope with it better.
I push the depressing thoughts aside and turn back to Asher, forcing a smile. He has his hands in his pockets, watching me pensively.
“Thank you for dinner. I have to admit, I wasn’t looking forward to eating alone.”
“The pleasure was all mine. A beautiful woman such as yourself should never eat alone.”
I smile shyly at him, pleased at his compliment.
“Good night, Asher. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, Poppy.”
For some asinine reason, I don’t want to leave, but I force my body to turn and unlock my door. It was nice talking with Asher tonight. I saw a side of him I’ve never seen before. For the first time in a year, I actually felt comfortable around him, something I never thought would ever happen.
I slide into my seat and start my car. I wave good-bye to Asher one last time and watch a beautiful smile cross his face. It sends flutters straight to my stomach. I’m not under the illusion that things will be different between us. I mean, that would be stupid. But I can’t help the pleasure that flows through me at spending time with him. He was different tonight—still intense, but not overly so.
I look in my rearview mirror as I pull away and feel a twinge of disappointment when I no longer see him standing there.
Chapter Eight
Poppy
I’m finishing up a few last minute things before I leave work for the weekend. I’m exhausted, and am looking forward to two days off. The last couple days have been tough. I haven’t been sleeping and it’s starting to wear on me. I’ve woken up several times drenched in sweat with my body on fire with need.
Sterling came to visit that first night, tormenting me with his faceless figure. Each time he came close to revealing his face, I’d wake up. Frustration kept me awake for the rest of the night. I’ve chatted with him a few times over texts, but I haven’t heard his deep husky voice again since the night he called, and I desperately want to hear it again.
Surprising
ly, he never brought up my evening in the restaurant. I know he had to have seen me eating with Asher, and I wonder why he never asked about him. All I received from him that night by way of a text was a “Good night, Beautiful. Sweet dreams.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. That night I dreamed of him.
The next night I dreamed of Asher. We were once again in his office. I was looking out his floor to ceiling window when I felt him come up behind me. From the reflection in the glass, I saw his eyes focused solely on me.
He dipped his head, nipped my ear, and whispered, “Put your palms on the glass.”
My body shivered with the whispered words, and I did what I was told.
“Good girl,” he murmured. He settled his hands on my lower thighs, and started to slowly hike up my tight skirt. His hands felt warm and rough, and oh so good. I arched my back, thrusting my ass back, and moaned at the sensations he was causing to travel through my body.
Once my skirt was over my hips, showing off the tiny panties I was wearing, he flattened his front to my back. I felt the hard bulge of his cock rub against my ass. He wrapped one hand around my hair and pulled my head back until my eyes met his.
“You’re mine,” he growled, then took my lips in a bruising kiss.
I woke up to my body aching and nearly desperate for release. I was tempted to play with myself to relieve some of the pressure, but I didn’t. Having sexy dreams about my boss is one thing, but bringing myself to orgasm from the thought of him is entirely different. Instead, I got up and took a cold shower until my body settled down.
The next morning when I saw Eric at work, he apologized again for missing dinner and asked me when we could try again. I may have fibbed a little when I told him that I was busy for the next several nights, but would let him know when I was free. He couldn’t hide the disappointment my words caused. I felt awful, but it would be even more terrible to lead him on. I know I need to come up with a more solid answer and tell him I’m not interested, and I will. I just have to work up the courage. I hate hurting people’s feelings.
I lift my head from rummaging through my desk, looking for Ibuprofen, when Asher walks out of the conference room, along with Eric, Mr. Maverick, and several others. The morning after our dinner when I walked into his office for our daily morning meeting, I called him Mr. Knight. He looked at me sternly and insisted I call him Asher. The other night, calling him by his first name was one thing. We were out of work and having a personal dinner. But here at work, it just doesn’t seem right, even though his name still feels good coming from my lips.
