Your Irresistible love

Chapter Eighteen

Ava

Sexual frustration threatens to suffocate me the next morning, but I don't give in to it. Also, I suspect that masturbation, far from satisfying me, would only increase my hunger for him. I contemplate trying out the age-old cure for horniness: a cold shower. Said and done.

I get in the bathroom, turn on the shower to its coldest, and step right under it.

SuchabadideaOMG.

I jump out so fast I lose my balance and fall flat on my ass. Groaning, I get up, massaging the base of my spine. Well, that's a way to start one's Saturday. Dressing up is quite literally a pain the ass. On the bright side, the pain replaced the horniness, so it wasn't all for nothing, though I'm not likely to repeat the experience.

I sling on a fluffy dress. There won't be anyone at the office today except the security guard, so I might as well take advantage. On the way to work, I pick up a bagel and a coffee, my mood lightening up.

When I arrive at the office, I check if there is anyone else on my floor. Nope. I'm all alone. Great.

I turn on the music on my computer. I work best listening to music, but I always use earplugs. Since I'm alone today, I forego them. I set the alarm on my smartphone for seven o'clock. I know I'll lose track of time otherwise. If I leave here shortly after seven, I'll have plenty of time to shower and beautify myself before Sebastian arrives. He said he'd pick me up from home at ten.

With the music resounding in the room, I slump in my chair and start typing away. Bring on the Saturday work mood.

I eat take-away pasta for lunch, an unhealthy portion of carbs being exactly the fuel I need to keep going for another few hours. And coffee, of course.

To my astonishment, I finish two hours before my alarm goes off. I jump to my feet, in dire need of stretching my muscles. I could go for a run; but since I went running with Sebastian, I found that doing it alone is no fun. Truth be told, I hate running with a passion. Or, well, any kind of sport. Why do I have to love food and hate sport? It'd be easier if I hated or loved both.

So instead of running, I dance.

I turn the music louder and start moving to the rhythm, closing my eyes and pretending I'm in a club. I'm actually glad I'm not in one. My dance moves royally suck, but there is no one here, so who cares?

At some point, I find myself singing too, giggling in between lyrics. If there's something more atrocious than my dancing, it's my singing. This is so much fun.

"Now,thisI could come home to every night."

I yelp. "Jesus Christ."

"No, it's me."

Sebastian's standing in the doorway, holding a bottle of wine. I lose my balance for the second time today. My instincts kick into overdrive, and I grab my desk for support, stopping short of a second encounter with the floor.

I turn down the music.

"What are you doing here?" we ask at the same time.

"I came to do some work," I say at the same time he says, "I came back early."

We both smile.

"I bought a bottle of wine and decided to stop by the office to drop off some papers so I'm not tempted to work from home. I want a clear schedule for the rest of the weekend."

"Really?" I put on my most flirty voice and even bat my eyelashes. Not sure it'll help much. I mean, the man did just see my ridiculous dance moves in all their glory. "What for?"