NEXT DAY AT THE OFFICE:
“Oh, my god Jess...” Pat pulled me into the copy room. “I’ve been dying to hear the details. So how was the sex?”
“Pat!” I glared at her and scanned the room to see if anyone was around.
“Come on, spill it. Was it hot, steamy, sexy?” She emphasized the mischievous words in her sentence.
I’ve to accept, Aaron does look ‘Fuck-Licious.’
“Mmm... Does leaving my underwear good enough for details,” I said, and her jaw fell to the ground, and I exited the copy room.
“O, you kinky little bitch.” She almost hollered, following behind me.
The whole day Sam was grouchy, irritable, or just plain mean. He made life difficult for everyone today at the office, which I heard everybody complaining about him.
I saw him turning to a corner. I followed after him. I thought to ask if everything was okay with him or fetch him a coffee or something.
“Hey! Are you okay? You seemed a little-” I went to touch his arm.
“I’m fine.” He said bitterly and dodged my hand.
He grabbed me and shoved me to the wall. His stare was dangerous. His grip on my arm was tight. I was scared. “You’re hurting me.”
He released my arm roughly again. “FUCK!” He growled and then left angrily.
‘What got into him today?’ I’ve never seen him so angry. He didn’t even react when I called him by his name. Instead, it pissed him off.
It was pitched dark. My heels—echoed in the foyer.
It felt like walking into a luxury haunted house. ‘I shouldn’t have come over?’ I was repeating to myself, and my heart was pounding vigorously in my chest.
“What are you doing here?” Sam’s voice startled me. I almost had a heart attack.
In front of the burning fireplace’s flickering light, he was sitting in the dark, on the floor. His back was against the linen-covered sofa, holding a hard liquor in a crystal glass; he was clad only in a pair of lounge pants.
“I was worried,” I said.
He rose from the floor—boldly in one lithe movement. He was walking towards me with a lionheart. His face—super gorgeous. It was hard to take my eyes off of him as his eyes were darted right at me. It was impossible to avoid for my perennial vision not to look at his powerful-naked-taut-body. ‘God, he looked dangerously sexy.’
He stopped close enough to be pulled in his arms, but instead, he slid his fingers into my hair to grasp the back of my head and drew his mouth close, his lips lingering over mine.
“And you came to check on me?” His lips brushed on mine as he spoke. He attached his other hand on the wall and caged me in. His musky scent was soothing and arousing at the same time.
“Did you have fun in LA, Jess?” He asked, inquiring, slowly backing himself away from me.
He knows. He heard about Aaron and me. How don’t I know? Could it be? Was Sam feeling jealous? It shouldn't matter to him he is leaving.
The questions he asked, I was more concerned about his reaction to my answers. I felt the lump in my throat getting bigger.
It pained me to tell him. “Yes.” I lowered my face, and I couldn’t physically look him in the eye. For some reason, I left guilty.
He stepped back, away from me, and combed his hair with his fingers—he turned his back on me, “Leave,” his tone of voice was cold.
I hold back firmly based on slender hope and expectation that he might change his mind, so I didn’t move.
“S-sam—” I tried again.
He glances sideways, “GO!” He yells rudely, making me flinch. I rushed out, as tears streamed, pushing the call button for an elevator—wanting to vanish from the site.
I stepped inside the elevator.
“FUCK!” Sam shouted, followed by a glass shattered. I clasped my mouth with my hand. He was angry and took all of his heated frustration out on the crystal glass he was drinking.
I don’t blame him. We both were suffering from the same level of distress.
When I got home, I slumped in my bed and curled my body small, and cried. I was awake the whole night, and my eyes didn’t have a wink of sleep. Grieving over the things I don’t even understand. ‘Why was I being punished?’
It was the first time my heart suffered delicately. I couldn’t pass the damn night. Because I hurt him, I physically couldn’t stop thinking that I’d hurt him. I hated myself.