Page 88 of Hate to Love You
ROMAN
I stand next to Abigail’s desk watching as she types something into the search bar on her computer and a bunch of flowers come up on the screen. Flowers that appear to have complicated names that I could never hope to pronounce.
What is it with women and flowers?
“Let’s go,” I snap deliberately, enjoying how she nearly jumps out of her skin and almost knocks over her cup of coffee. “We’re leaving,”
“Roman!” She gasps, her eyes wide and her cheeks turning that bright shade of crimson.
God, I love it when that happens.
“I…I…swear I was just finishing my break,” she stutters nervously, spinning back around to quickly close her browsing window. “I promise, I wasn’t—”
“Abigail, I don’t care if you browse the internet in your downtime,” I say, watching as she smooths her long brown hair. “However, I do care that you’re still sitting here when I just said that we’re leaving.”
“Oh…okay!” She says, turning back to her desk and trying to pull up her timecard to log out.
But she’s obviously flustered, typing the wrong passcode twice before finally getting it right and then trying to close down the barrage of programs. She reaches for her purse but then sets it down, reaching instead for her mug.
“I should probably wash this out, yes?” She says, looking up at me, her eyes widening. “Wait, I…I guess I don’t even know where we’re going?”
“Does it matter?” I ask, raising my brow. “I said we’re leaving. So, we’re leaving.”
“But…are we…you know, coming back?” She asks, twisting her necklace between her fingers.
“Abigail.”
“Yes, yes,” she gulps, jumping up. “I’m ready I just have to grab my—”
That’s when her eyes drift to what I have in my arms. Somehow, I’m able to stifle my smirk and hold her coat open for her as she sheepishly slips one arm in at a time.
However, my stoic facade nearly fades, because having her in my arms I can smell her perfume and the bright intoxicating floral scent of her hair.
Thankfully, I’m distracted by Jenny and Alison gawking at us from the large bulk printer in the corner. As soon as we make eye contact, they both immediately pretend to be adding paper to a tray.
Those bitches do more standing around than actual work.
And since I already know exactly how mediocre they both are in bed, part of me wants to spin Abigail around, cup her face, and shove my tongue down her throat right here…just to make them jealous.
But I don’t want our first kiss to be like that.
What the fuck? Where did that come from?
“You finally ready?” I ask quietly, as she clumsily grabs her purse, her sudden anxiety apparent.
“Yes, sorry,” she says, trying to pull her long brown hair out from under her coat. “I’m ready.”
I reach forward, instantly hearing her sharp intake of breath as my fingers gently caress the skin on her neck, helping to brush the last disobedient strand out of the top of her coat collar. In the brief moment our skin collides I feel an almost static electricity, crackling between us and it makes me pause.
Is that even possible? I’ve never felt this before.
“Good,” is all I manage to whisper.
“Mmmhmm,” she gulps, breathing shakily.
Her eyes drop to my lips as she bites her own. It nearly derails me, as I would give anything to do that myself.
No! Stop it! This is ridiculous!