Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 40

   It's a little bit later for a work day. It's almost 7:00am in the morning and me and Dawson just pulled into the parking garage. The days are starting to turn colder as the winter months approach. I love winter. Especially ice skating. That's always been my favorite. But, as the wind gets crisp, it also means that Christmas is coming. Along with Thanksgiving, but I've never been one to enjoy that. Plus, receiving the Christmas card from my parents in the mail every year of them and Matt is something they make sure to keep alive. Only to me, so they write, "I hope your winter is as cold as our hope for your future" or something like that to bring me down. It's normally a picture of them, together, around a decorated tree with a few presents in Matt's lap. I think the worst card I've ever received was the one where Matt got his first car with my money. The picture of my parents standing beside him, their faces pressed together while they all grinned happily, Matt's spoiled hands holding the pair of keys up for the camera.

   But I'm hoping now that I'm with Dawson, maybe this years Christmas won't be so bad.

   Dawson's hand slides farther around my waist as he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, his hand tucked into the pocket of my dress pants. The last week with him has been amazing.

   We've been at his apartment. Watching movies, cuddling, and having heated make-out sessions that always turn into something a little more than just a make-out.

   Not at all have I felt unloved. Dawson has made me feel special. Irreplaceable. And it's only the first week.

    We really haven't classified in words that we're dating. Well, we sort of have. But that doesn't matter. Because the way Dawson looks at me makes my knees weak and my heart to thump loudly in my chest. I've never felt so special. So important. The only girl in the world.

   The sun is just starting to come up over the tall glass buildings and with a gentle shiver, Dawson pulls me closer into his side. I can feel his red eyes on me. "Are you cold, darling?" He asks, his voice a little choppy with the cold morning air around us. I tip my head back to look up at him and it still takes my breath away every time.

   His dark oak brown hair that falls so perfectly messy with a little gel to keep it in place. His lips so plump and kissable in the sun rays that stripe across his skin. Those red eyes of his stare down at me with anticipation of his words and I can't help but let out a soft breath. His cheeks are tinted pink from the cold, his nose nipped with the cold air. His stubble is a little more beard like, starting to grow a little longer. Our breath can be seen in the cold and it makes me shiver against Dawson's body, tucking myself further into his side.

   "Don't worry, we're almost there," he murmurs, bending down and placing a soft kiss to my forehead. It makes my heart squeeze a happy beat. He makes me feel so warm. Again, he wears a suit. If I didn't raid his closet, I would've guessed that he owned only suits.

   "How are you not cold?" I ask, my breath coming out fast in the cold morning air. Dawson looks down at me as the city sounds around us commence. Loud honking, shouting, sirens, and everything else that is involved in a city. "I'm wearing a thick jacket," he points out, using his left hand to reveal the puffy, warm looking interior to his coat. I take my left hand and slide it beneath the thick coat, instant warmth greeting my freezing hand. Dawson looks down at me with a small smile and I sigh, my breath fogging into the air with the simple sound.

Then, his brows furrow and he comes to an abrupt stop, causing me to stumble slightly before he pulled me back into his side. "Why aren't you wearing a coat?" He asks, those enchanting red eyes jumping along my body, those large, warm hands of his pressed to my waist to keep me still. My frozen skin thaws and warms at his simple touch, the concern in his eyes enough to make me melt into his touch. I lean into his warm chest and tuck my hands beneath his coat, the soft cotton of his button up against my palms.