Sample Sunday – Can We Not?

“I would ask if you’re not a morning person, but it’s not morning anymore, so…”

“You’re really just not gonna take the fucking hint?” I asked, finally turning over to actually look at her, and… damn.

She wasn’t trying to obscure that body of hers at all today, in a matching mustard pencil skirt and top combo that popped nicely against her deep brown skin. Her hair was different today too – the same asymmetrical cut, but instead of being straightened, she had soft curls framing her face.

It was hard to give her hostile energy when she looked that damn good.

“I don’t respond to hints, Pierre. If you’d like me to leave, just say so. If not… I’ve got lunch waiting downstairs. Let’s get to work.”

Her crimson painted lips turned up into a smile, and then she turned and left – I guess she was just that confident I wasn’t about to put her out.

Fuck.

She wasn’t wrong.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom for the typical morning stuff – even though it was well past that. Toilet, sink, shower, all that, and then my stomach led me down to the kitchen to see what kind of lunch she’d brought.

I found Logan at my kitchen counter, with a pristine white laptop in front of her, her fingers flying over the keys. When I walked in, she glanced at me, then back to her screen, then back to me, lips parted as she took in the fact that after my shower, I hadn’t put on anything more than my towel.

She blinked, then looked away, pulling herself from her barstool to open my fridge.

“We haven’t discussed your food preferences yet,” she said. “So I kept it simple and got you a rice bowl like mine, except with all the ingredients on the side. I can construct it for you, based on your preferences, or you can do it yourself.” From the fridge, she produced a bag and started pulling things out, lining them up on the counter. “You can just let me know.”

“Yours looks good,” I told her, glancing at where her lunch was situated beside her laptop. “I’ll let you get back to it, while I fix mine.”

Logan nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

She started to move back to her seat, but quickly realized I’d moved into a position where I was in her way, and it wasn’t as simple as getting around me.

“Pierre… can we not?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Can we not… what?”

“Do… this,” she said, wiggling her fingers at my bare chest and body. “The sexual tension.”

“I can’t help it if you want me, shorty.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “But you can help the fact that you’re putting it right in my face. I’m trying to be professional here. You don’t have to…” she glanced down, right at my dick, before bringing her gaze back to mine with a sigh. “Make it harder on me.”

Me?” I smirked. “You’re in here with all this ass, that pretty face, all that, but I’m making it hard? Nah, that’s all you,” I countered. “Don’t look so good if I’m not supposed to react to it.”

“I can’t help how I look!”

“Neither can I!” I argued, barely keeping a straight face about it.

Logan pressed a finger right to the middle of my chest. “Go put some damn clothes on.”

I wrapped my hand around hers, pulling her into me as she smiled. “Make me.”

“I thought you said you were his assistant?”

Shit.

Elodie’s voice had Logan snatching away, quickly putting distance between us.

“I am, basically,” she told El, who didn’t look very convinced.

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