all in favor of giving himself every advantage.
After a quick knock on Nicki's door, he waited. A long minute later, she answered, wearing black yoga pants and a bright pink tank top. What she wasn't wearing was a bra.
Hell, yeah! And it wasn't even Christmas.
"Mark?" she stared at him, her eyes straying down to his chest ... lower. "Is something wrong?"
He held in a grin as she checked him out. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes about the show."
"Tomorrow. This is my one day off a week, and I'm beat."
A second look told him she wasn't lying. She looked pale and heavy-eyed. His cock jerked when he thought of lying down next to her sleep-warm body, breathing in her scent, and imagining all the creative ways he could rouse her once she'd rested.
"Actually, I'm tired, too. And hungry. Are you?"
Nicki barely ripped her eyes away from his torso before answering. "No."
"You must be. It's almost seven. Let me take you someplace so you'll have a nice full belly when I try to talk to you out of making me wear that costume."
She laughed. "Well, that's honest."
"C'mon. It'll be more fun than eating alone," he cajoled.
"Maybe I want to be alone."
"No, you don't. You were hoping I'd come over here and make you laugh and offer to feed you."
"You're dreaming."
Mark smiled. "Probably, but a guy's got to have goals."
Another of her lilting laughs bubbled to the surface, and Mark relished the sound. Something about Nicki kicked him in the gut every time he looked at her. Her smile gave him the old one-two punch.
"See. I'm good for your morale."
She groaned. "You don't know when to quit, do you? I don't want to go out."
"Then you can invite me in. We'll share a pizza and talk."
Nicki hesitated for a long moment, biting that lush bottom lip. Ah, she was vacillating. Just a little longer in silence and...
"All right. But only because we both need to eat. I don't want anyone getting the idea that this is any sort of date."
Interesting. He'd pursue that in a minute--once he was safely inside. "I doubt they will."
Finally, Nicki stepped back and let him in. Mark shut the door behind him.
Goal one, complete. They were alone.
Nicki's decor was a lot like her, rich and warm with smooth lines. A little exotic. Unique.
After a quick discussion about topping preferences, in which they both admitted loving pineapple on their pizza, Nicki ordered from a local place.
"Twenty-five minutes," she announced, hanging up the phone.
"Good. It's quick, but gives me plenty of time to understand why you don't want anyone to think we're dating."
"I thought you wanted to discuss your costume." "We'll get back to that. Tell me why it's important no one think we're dating."
Sighing, she sat down in the room's lone chair, rather than next to him on the wide sofa. "It's just not a good idea."
"When you were questioning my heterosexuality and telling me I could pursue any interest I might have in Zack," he snorted, "you said you didn't have a problem with employees dating."
"I still don't."
"Then why would it be different if, someday, we did want to have a date?"
"Because I sign your paycheck, not share your dressing room."
"We're still working in the same place, under the same roof. I don't really see the difference."
He stared, bracing his chin in his hand, and tried to keep his mind on the conversation ... and off the reality that only a thin layer of cotton separated his gaze from her breasts. Those same breasts with nipples now pointed at him, beckoning him mercilessly.
Mark gritted his teeth. Did she have any inkling that he was about three seconds from pinning her to that cozy chair under the weight of his body and using his tongue to acquaint himself with every inch of her?
Wearing a strained smile, Nicki rose and turned away with a shaky sigh. He grinned. Had it been his hot stare that had put her on edge or the steel-pike erection in his jeans? He made no attempt to hide either. She'd been quick and discreet ...
After a quick knock on Nicki's door, he waited. A long minute later, she answered, wearing black yoga pants and a bright pink tank top. What she wasn't wearing was a bra.
Hell, yeah! And it wasn't even Christmas.
"Mark?" she stared at him, her eyes straying down to his chest ... lower. "Is something wrong?"
He held in a grin as she checked him out. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes about the show."
"Tomorrow. This is my one day off a week, and I'm beat."
A second look told him she wasn't lying. She looked pale and heavy-eyed. His cock jerked when he thought of lying down next to her sleep-warm body, breathing in her scent, and imagining all the creative ways he could rouse her once she'd rested.
"Actually, I'm tired, too. And hungry. Are you?"
Nicki barely ripped her eyes away from his torso before answering. "No."
"You must be. It's almost seven. Let me take you someplace so you'll have a nice full belly when I try to talk to you out of making me wear that costume."
She laughed. "Well, that's honest."
"C'mon. It'll be more fun than eating alone," he cajoled.
"Maybe I want to be alone."
"No, you don't. You were hoping I'd come over here and make you laugh and offer to feed you."
"You're dreaming."
Mark smiled. "Probably, but a guy's got to have goals."
Another of her lilting laughs bubbled to the surface, and Mark relished the sound. Something about Nicki kicked him in the gut every time he looked at her. Her smile gave him the old one-two punch.
"See. I'm good for your morale."
She groaned. "You don't know when to quit, do you? I don't want to go out."
"Then you can invite me in. We'll share a pizza and talk."
Nicki hesitated for a long moment, biting that lush bottom lip. Ah, she was vacillating. Just a little longer in silence and...
"All right. But only because we both need to eat. I don't want anyone getting the idea that this is any sort of date."
Interesting. He'd pursue that in a minute--once he was safely inside. "I doubt they will."
Finally, Nicki stepped back and let him in. Mark shut the door behind him.
Goal one, complete. They were alone.
Nicki's decor was a lot like her, rich and warm with smooth lines. A little exotic. Unique.
After a quick discussion about topping preferences, in which they both admitted loving pineapple on their pizza, Nicki ordered from a local place.
"Twenty-five minutes," she announced, hanging up the phone.
"Good. It's quick, but gives me plenty of time to understand why you don't want anyone to think we're dating."
"I thought you wanted to discuss your costume." "We'll get back to that. Tell me why it's important no one think we're dating."
Sighing, she sat down in the room's lone chair, rather than next to him on the wide sofa. "It's just not a good idea."
"When you were questioning my heterosexuality and telling me I could pursue any interest I might have in Zack," he snorted, "you said you didn't have a problem with employees dating."
"I still don't."
"Then why would it be different if, someday, we did want to have a date?"
"Because I sign your paycheck, not share your dressing room."
"We're still working in the same place, under the same roof. I don't really see the difference."
He stared, bracing his chin in his hand, and tried to keep his mind on the conversation ... and off the reality that only a thin layer of cotton separated his gaze from her breasts. Those same breasts with nipples now pointed at him, beckoning him mercilessly.
Mark gritted his teeth. Did she have any inkling that he was about three seconds from pinning her to that cozy chair under the weight of his body and using his tongue to acquaint himself with every inch of her?
Wearing a strained smile, Nicki rose and turned away with a shaky sigh. He grinned. Had it been his hot stare that had put her on edge or the steel-pike erection in his jeans? He made no attempt to hide either. She'd been quick and discreet ...
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