Chapter 20
T he massive load of work that we have to take care of leaves little to no room for distraction. By the end of each day, my brain is fried, so I leave for home as soon as I can. I'm too tired to want anything other than to go to bed. Alone.
As time passes, I can't help but try to rationalize things. It's logical that after ten months deprived of physical contact with men, I was particularly receptive to Lex's ministrations. Sure, he knew precisely what to do and how to do it, but my intense reaction to him was most likely due to my prolonged abstinence.
And anyway, Lex doesn't give me more of these intense, bone-melting moments where I'm reduced to putty. No, he remains cold and distant—which he's tremendous at. I'm left alone with my fantasies and desires, discreetly looking at him when he isn't paying attention, getting all horny with the lewd flashbacks my mind conjures on an hourly basis.
So, I drown myself in work since it's all I have left at this point. Everyone from the dev team works on my app now, and by the end of every workday, an incredible number of tasks have been completed.
Today, however, will be different. Today is Saturday, and the guys are enjoying their well-deserved weekend.
Lex told me to come in later than usual, arguing I deserved some rest after all that work. But I was up at dawn and figured I might as well go to work.
On my way up, I wonder if Lex will already be here or if he took his own advice and lingered in bed. My mind flashes to an image of him naked, the soft duvet not hiding much of his perfect anatomy, lazily stretching in the light gray covers. Damn, I'd stay in bed in the morning if I had such a comfortable mattress and Lex in it .
I disapprovingly shake my head at the thought. Lazily sleeping in with Lex isn't an option.
It's odd to be in the silent hallways like this and even more strange to use a key card to unlock doors. As I'm about to enter the office, the door swings open before me.
My eyes widen as Lex appears on the other side of the panel with a folder in his hands, oblivious to my presence. Behind his glasses, his eyes are focused on the papers, like a man on a mission. He notices me right before he crashes into me. Frozen in his tracks, he looks down at me, less than a foot away.
After a moment, his surprised expression fades into his neutral self again. "No sleeping in?"
"I was awake, so I thought I might as well come and get the day started."
He nods and moves aside to allow me to come in. "Alright. I need to make some copies, but you know what you have to do."
The morning turns out to be pretty ordinary. The only difference is that people would typically drop by to talk to Lex or ask for his advice or approval. Music is my best defense against awkwardness, so I'm intently listening to a playlist I curated with my abuela. It's full of what she considers the best Latino classics, and it never fails to improve my mood.
I'm taken out of my working trance when Lex's head pops up over my screen. I push my headphones away, guessing he wants to ask me something.
"Yes?"
"I—hm, I don't know if you have plans," he says, visibly uneasy. "For lunch, I mean. I'm off to grab a bite at the Italian place around the corner. I thought the least I could do to thank you for coming in on a Saturday was to treat you to a decent meal."
I stare at him, properly dazed. He wants us to go… eat outside?
At the thought of creamy pasta, my stomach wakes up. Yes, some Italian sounds great. But it means a one-on-one meal with Lex. Not ideal at all.
But … pasta.
I frantically try to figure out what I should say. I could lie and say I'm not hungry. Yes, it's a solid plan. That'll work.
I'm literally opening my mouth to politely refuse when my stomach makes a loud, hungry noise. There goes my alibi.
Because I was silent for too long, I worry he'll lose his patience. "I, um, yeah. Italian sounds great," I let out, panicking. Fuck. "I'm almost done here. Just give me a minute," I quickly add.
I take a deep breath as my hands tremble with nervousness. It's fine. It's just lunch. The restaurant is always packed, so we won't be alone. We'll share a professional meal, like last time.
Well, we did end up almost fucking in his car last time.
Shit.
I can't drag this out infinitely, so I eventually tell him I'm good to go. We leave in silence and only exchange a look when he holds the door for me.
"Have you ever eaten there?" he asks once we're outside.
"Yes, a few times already."
"Alright. They have the best prosciutto risotto I've ever had."
I can tell small talk doesn't come easy for him, so it's clear he's intentionally being diplomatic. "I haven't tried it, but their gorgonzola tagliatelle is to die for."
"I've never tried that, actually." We walk in silence for a few seconds until he says, "The weather is very nice."
This further attempt at jumpstarting the conversation makes me smile, but I bite it back. I indulge his efforts, and we carry an entire conversation about the weather all the way to the restaurant.
The place isn't as packed as I'd hoped, and we get seated near a window, a little isolated from the rest. I go over the menu, using it as an excuse not to have to talk or look at him. I really, really want to have pasta, but a shallow part of me considers ordering a salad.
It's not like Lex hasn't already seen me naked and doesn't know I have a fat ass and love handles—which he used to pull me back onto his dick that night. Still, I don't think it's something the women he usually dates have.
This is ridiculous. I never worried about what I should eat in front of a man before. It's so unlike me to be this superficial. Of course I prefer cheese over lettuce, like every single person on this planet.
"Have you made your choice?" the waiter asks when he returns, pulling out a notepad from his black apron.
Lex turns to him, closing his menu. "I'll have the tagliatelle al gorgonzola."
Oh… He's trying my thing. A small smile stretches my lips as I realize he just gave me the perfect excuse to not eat salad. "I'll take the prosciutto risotto, please," I ask, grateful for Lex's unknowing rescue. The waiter then asks for drinks, and we settle on sharing a bottle of San Pellegrino.
"So, how did you get into the world of coding?" Lex asks once we're alone again, leaning comfortably in his chair.
"My father," I explain, unable to hold back a grin. "He teaches computer science at a high school. Early on, he used my mom and me as guinea pigs to prepare his classes. I got into it quickly, but my mom gave up after three lessons. My dad gave me special lessons from there, and I think after the first year, I was already better than him at it. I got better all the way to college, where I didn't really learn anything, but I needed the diploma," I explain. Lex listens to me keenly, his gray eyes locked into mine. "What about you? How did you become so good at it?"
He takes his time answering, fidgeting with the napkin before him, his eyes absently gazing at his empty glass. "I was always more comfortable with computers," he eventually says. "I was never very social and rather isolated, so the internet became my shelter from boredom. It provided an inexhaustible source of knowledge, and I couldn't get enough of it. Video games became a great way to pass the time. I looked into how it was done and attempted to make one myself. That's how I started. I think I was twelve."
"You built a whole video game?" I ask, impressed.
"I built several, actually," he says proudly. "It wasn't anything impressive, and I clearly had more fun building them than playing."
The waiter arrives to give us our sparkling water and a breadbasket.
"You have a brother, right?" Lex then asks.
"Yes, Rafael. He's my polar opposite, outdoorsy, hyperactive, and can't sit for two hours straight without going mad. He's a photographer," I explain. "He's been in New York for the past three years, but he's moving back to Portland this month." After a moment of talking about my brother, I ask Lex if he has any siblings.
"I have three older sisters." My surprise is almost impossible to mask, and he notices it. "What?"
"I didn't think you were the youngest."
"Why is that?"
"In my experience, younger siblings tend to be more… carefree. You're so serious and responsible all the time. I thought you'd be the eldest or maybe an only child."
"Ah, yes. I'm afraid my rigidity is a factory setting," he humorously says.
We talk more about our siblings, and then our plates arrive. I hold back a moan at how good my risotto smells but can't prevent an appreciative groan at the first bite. Damn, that is delicious.
"Okay, you were right. This is so, so good," I admit, taking another bite.
Lex eats a forkful of meticulously wrapped tagliatelle and nods once he swallows it. "The pasta is good as well."
"Not as good as this." He doesn't say anything, even though I can tell he agrees .
As we eat, I learn more about his sisters. Two of them are married, and one is engaged. The eldest is Lucy. She's nine years older than him and has two boys, fourteen and twelve. The second one is Emilia, and she has twin daughters who are five. The youngest of his sisters, Julia, divorced about three years ago and is now getting married again in the spring.
I can tell he's fond of them. He has a lingering smile on his face, which I find charming. He barely mentions his parents, though, and I don't ask. Something isn't quite right there. By the end of the meal, he knows a lot more about my family, and I know a lot more about his.
"I can't believe you grew up surrounded by women," I say on our walk back to the office, still surprised by that revelation.
"Why is it so shocking?"
"You didn't strike me as a women's advocate the first time we met," I say boldly. He doesn't seem annoyed by my statement but rather reflective.
"My initial reaction to you had nothing to do with the fact that you were a woman," he ends up saying. "Admittedly, I didn't foresee you would be one, but it's not what caused my distrust. I was expecting someone in their late thirties, maybe early forties. I designed the test myself, and I was stumped when I saw your results. Ninety percent of the applicants scored under fifty out of a hundred points. You were at ninety-two. I think the closest one right after you was sixty-one."
I stare at him with utter shock. Really? I scored that high on his recruitment test?
"I know I reacted poorly, and once more, I'm sorry for the accusations," Lex adds. "But you were standing there, looking like…" He thinks briefly before continuing, "Looking fresh out of college, and my rational mind couldn't accept you were the same Andy who nailed my test—regardless of your gender."
I kinda get why he was so harsh back then. I look younger than I am, especially when I wear my nerdy T-shirts. Between that and my impressive score on his test, I can understand why he thought I cheated my way in, somehow.
"But you quickly proved me wrong, and I'm glad you turned out to be the real deal," he continues, his intense gaze capturing mine as we wait for the elevator. The mood switches and the amiable conversation now slides into something more intimate. His magnetic aura slowly envelops me, my body warming up at his words.
"I'm glad I did, too."
I'll forever be grateful for the opportunity to work here, meet the team, make such great friends… And no matter what I tell myself, I'm glad I met him . Lex is a revelation of the flesh and of the mind .
I silently process all the information he gave me on our way up. Thanks to his newly discovered humanity, I'm even more attracted to him.
As if the man needed any help in that department.
I t's like our cordial lunch together unlocked something. Now, our exchanges are somewhat free of tension, and we're not as disinclined to talk. We even arrange our screens so it's easier to speak.
We have until Wednesday to polish the app before San José, and I doubt we'll manage. While we're reaching a ninety-five percent accuracy with colorful nails, we can't get over forty-five without it. It's doable but requires much more time than we have.
At some point in the afternoon, I hear her let out an annoyed growl, so I ask, "Anything I can do to help?"
"I have to make some adjustments, but I need to check the algorithm while it's running for that."
"Do you want me to sign while you inspect?"
"Uh… It would help, yes," she hesitantly answers. "But are you fine with wearing nail polish?"
The fact that she even doubts it is a little insulting. Does she think I'm one of those toxic alpha men?
"I've heard red suits me best."
Her slight shock barely lasts a second before she smiles and looks into her bag. "I don't think I have any. I have a pretty nice fuchsia. It's not great quality, but it dries fast, which is all we need," she explains after some shuffling, brandishing the small bottle.
"Do you want me to apply it?" she offers, failing at hiding her amusement.
I should say no and handle it myself. It doesn't need to be perfect for the test, and it would be the reasonable thing to do. But I've been craving her touch for days, and we're in some kind of peaceful truce, so I roll my chair to her side of the desk and rest a flat hand in front of her.
The absurdity of the moment has her giggling every few seconds as she meticulously applies a coat of cheap fuchsia on my nails.
"Stop giggling," I dryly order, feigning offense before I add, "you'll make a mess."
That makes her laugh softly, and I smile at the sound. Something indeed shifted during our lunch, didn't it ?
Once she's done with my left hand, I blow on the nails while she handles the other. The switch brings us even closer, and I can't stop myself from admiring her pretty profile as she works. Since that night we shared, I've been drawn to her lips on more than one occasion. They've been haunting me, making me wish I could enjoy their softness again, sample their taste, experience their greed again… My cock swells in my jeans as I envision them wrapped around it, all pink, wet, and plump. I adjust my position, hoping she won't notice.
With her hands on me and her scent in my nose, it becomes painful by the time she finishes.
"All done," she proudly says, letting me go and straightening up. "You like it?" she teases.
"Not my best color, but it's still better than green." Her puzzled expression compels me to explain. "My sisters practiced all kinds of things on me—hair, makeup, nails… Between the age difference and the fact that we barely shared any interests, I took every opportunity I had to spend time with them."
"That's adorable."
During the following hour, she has me signing various sentences repeatedly while she focuses on the code on her screen. She corrects a few things, and once we're done, I walk over to check the results with her, slipping my glasses on as I do.
We read the lines, scan the script, and when we reach the bottom, I say, "Good job. We'll have to run some tests, but I think it'll help with the final version."
Still looking at the screen, I feel her gaze on my profile. When I turn to her, she swiftly looks away. Her cheeks have a pink tint, and her hands fidget on her lap. And that's when I realize she's just as tormented as I am, desperate for more of what we shared that night. Deep down, I knew there was no way I'd be the only one craving more.
But even now, nearly certain she does, I know we can't indulge. I'm not the relationship type, and she doesn't strike me as someone who can have a casual affair with her boss. She's too intense for that, and she would probably expect so much more than I can give her. And then what? We break things off, and I lose the best programmer I've ever hired? What if she quits and I never see her again? A sense of sadness overwhelms me at the thought.
As tempting as Andrea Walker is, this path will lead to nothing but sour disappointment.
She almost looks upset as she says, "Thank you for your help." She doesn't wait for an answer and turns to her computer.
"Andrea, I … "
I what? I need more, too? I'm not over what happened between us? I've been dreaming of you relentlessly, of your taste, of your moans, of how gushing wet you were for me?
She can't know that. It's too dangerous.
"Can I have the polish remover?" I say instead.
Disappointment twists her pretty features, as if she expected me to say something else.
I ruined it. The lightness of the afternoon is gone because I don't know how to gently let her down. It rarely happens anymore, but I find myself wishing I were better with people, better at anticipating their emotions, so that I could say whatever she needs to hear to move on. So that I could free us of this unwanted need that strains our every interaction.
The day ends like it started—in tense silence. Then it's time to leave, and I'm thankful for it. She isn't coming back tomorrow, so I'll work from home. All this overtime and moments alone with her are driving me to the brink of insanity.
So why the fuck do I offer, "Do you want me to drive you home?"
"I'm good," she says, hooking her bag over her shoulder.
We walk together to the elevators and patiently wait for one to arrive. "Thank you for coming today, Andrea."
"It's okay. I didn't have anything planned anyway."
When she looks up, I'm already looking down at her. I don't have to wonder why she looks somewhat sad because I feel the same way.
I wish there could be more to this. I wish we didn't have to behave. I wish I knew how to handle this. I wish I could kiss her, just one more time. One last time.
Don't do it , I tell myself. In a few weeks, the lid will be back on Pandora's box—tightly screwed shut. I need to stay strong for a little longer and resist the tempting call of her parted lips and the silent hope in her brown eyes. But I'm only human, and there's only so much I can endure.
"Fuck it," I grunt to myself.
Like an itch I can't resist, I grab her nape and bend forward. Before she can realize what's happening, I press my mouth on hers for an ardent, urgent kiss.
She's so stunned that she doesn't react, recoil, or say anything. She stands there, her entire frame taut, trying to process what's happening. And then she relaxes, her hand lifting up to rest on my jaw.
It isn't like any kiss we've shared before. It isn't lust-filled. We aren't devouring or seducing each other… It's just an irrepressible need.
I move away from her, but only to admire her flushed face. The wonderment in her eyes makes something clench in my chest. Because she's irresistible, I bend to steal another hungry peck, slipping a greedy arm around her waist to pull her in.
It feels so fucking right to hold her like this.
Her jaw unlocks when my tongue demands access, and the kiss grows more intense. A few more seconds , I tell myself. And then I'll pull away for good, and we'll learn to stay away from one another.
The elevator makes a loud "ding," but that isn't enough to break the spell. Not for me, at least. Andrea immediately reacts to it, though, pulling away, so I let go of her as the doors open.
I'm not sure if I'm relieved or not that a few people are already on it. It's probably better that way. I would have kissed her again on our ride down, and that would have resulted in inviting her back to my place.
As I stare into her lust-filled gaze, I know without a doubt she would have accepted.