Page 30 of IRL: In Real Life
Then another.
Micah: And I know I’d rather keep having that conversation somewhere with less audience.
I went still, and my fingers hovered.
I should have made him work harder.
A better woman, or maybe a worse one, would have left him sitting there for twenty minutes and gone back to her budget notes like she had range.
Instead, I typed.
Me: You ask everybody out between spreadsheets?
His reply came quick.
Micah: No. Just the ones I’ve been trying not to ask since last night. Starting with whether you know how hard it is to leave a conversation with you alone.
Lawd.
My pussy clenched like it had been waiting on that exact sentence all afternoon. The wordhardconjured thoughts it shouldn’t have, but it was too late. I’d already cum to the thought of him, hadn’t I? Heat spread low in my body, followed by the first slick little pulse of arousal, and I had to sit there staring at the screen like I wasn’t a grown woman at work getting turned on by directness.
But that was the thing. That response was the response of a man. A man who knew what he wanted and was not scared to stand in it.
And right now, what he wanted was me.
I sat back in my chair and stared at the ceiling for one second like maybe the exposed beams at Monarch Row had some wisdom to lend me.
They did not.
Mariah’s voice came gentler this time, less teasing and more curious.
“That serious?”
I looked at her.
There was no point lying to a woman who had already read the truth on my face twice before lunch.
“Potentially.”
She nodded slowly, like a person receiving information she intended to revisit later with better snacks. “Okay.”
No squealing. No performance. No girl.
Just okay.
Which, for some reason, made me like her more than I already did.
I looked back down at the phone.
Me: What does trying not to ask look like on your end?
That one took a little longer.
Micah: Like letting you make your lap.
Another message.
Micah: Like going home and shutting down for the night instead of doing too much in your DMs.
