Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 18

I rub a hand down my face with a groan. Everything's been crazy. Trying to make sure all the material is right for starting the actual build, all the way down to the smallest of measures. God, I need something to eat and a shower. There are at least two bags hanging from both my arms as I struggle to get the keycard for the hotel room out of my suit jacket.

When I finally manage to grab it, I swipe it across the pad and the light clicks from red to green. The door clicks and I quickly push it in. Noise flows through the door, the smell of pizza drifting to my nose. My stomach growls. I use my foot to kick the door open and walk in. With a quick spin I manage to close the door, set the bags down, and slip my shoes off all in a couple seconds. The night sky has stars shining in through the large windows, the curtains still pulled back to reveal all the stars and the crescent shaped moon. My eyes land on the pizza box sitting on the counter and my mouth waters as I strip my jacket off and walk over to the closet. Pushing the doors open, my fingers wrap around the white hanger before pulling it off the pole and sliding my jacket on before hanging it back up.

My eyes fall down to my button up shirt, struggling to unbutton it. "Hey Dawson, how did it go?" Isadora greets from the couch. A sigh leaves me as I struggle with the third button on my shirt. My eyes look up from my struggling hands and see Isadora sitting on the couch in a large white shirt—Is that my shirt?

My body tensed. That...that is my shirt. She's wearing my shirt. Fuck. How did she get—? No. God. She looks beautiful. My—My clothes. She's...she's wearing my shirt. Am I hallucinating? Fuck she looks gorgeous. Just stunning with her long black hair pulled up into the cutest messy bun atop her head. I want to smile at the sight. My white cotton tee covers her torso, the neckline revealing her collar bones. The sleeves touch her elbows when they're laying at her side. She doesn't have makeup on. Fucking hell she's so beautiful. I can't believe she's wearing my shirt.

   Her ice blue eyes catch my stare and she swallows, "I'm sorry, I forgot to pack some pjs and I ordered some pajamas but they won't be here for another day or two so I grabbed this out of your suitcase and I know that's wrong but—"

   "No, no it's okay." I breathe, cutting her off. Her eyes widen in surprise at my response. "Really?" She asks, and sets what I now know to be a bowl of salad down and stands up. Shit. She's not wearing pants. Her bare legs beg for my attention, the soft skin basically calling for my lips and hands. She runs her hands down the shirt which just touches the top of her creamy tan thighs, "You sure you're not mad?" She asks again, her teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip. A groan gets caught in my throat at the sight and I nod my head, "Yes. I'm sure." My voice comes out an octave deeper than before and goosebumps pebble across Isadora's bare skin. She nods, our eyes meeting as she plays with the hem of my t-shirt. Fuck. She's going to kill me.

With her bright blue eyes and plush lips. Wearing my shirt with no makeup and her hair pulled up? I might as well order my grave to be dug. Her tongue slides across the area of her bottom lip and my eyes jump from hers to the motion. She's killing me.

She turns away, breaking our eye contact, "I got you a pizza. I didn't know what you'd like so I just got cheese and pepperoni," she mumbles, a blush covering her cheeks. A smile stretches across my face. The first one to appear in hours. I quickly walk over to her, my hands dipping down to her hips. She gasps quietly, looking up at me with those innocent ice blue eyes and long lashes. My eyes zero in on her lips. I want to kiss her so badly. Her hands find my chest and my heart starts pounding harshly. I bend down, our faces now mere inches apart, we are basically breathing in each other's air. My tongue pokes out to wet my lips and her eyes snap to my lips. The thought of her wanting to kiss me makes me go crazy. I pull in a deep breath to hopefully slow my beating heart "It's perfect. Thank you," her cheeks flush a deeper pink and it makes me chuckle. I want to kiss her lips, I want to kiss her cheeks. But that damn boyfriend.