Driven By Fate(12)

“Have I hired a daydreamer?”

“The furthest thing from it.”

He set a neat stack of files down in front of her, before circling behind her. Slowly. “There are purchase orders for the last two weeks. I need them archived in the company database.”

His larger body towered behind Francesca’s chair, making her spine snap straight with awareness. She swore she could feel his breath at the top of her head, but chalked it up to wishful thinking. Without the desk to block his view, her body felt exposed, on display from above. For him. How long was he going to stand there? Breathe. Breathe. One big hand appeared to her right, telling her how close he stood. Close. With a flick of his wrist against the mouse, he woke up her computer, clicking on a desktop icon.

When he spoke just beside her ear, she barely resisted jolting. “Here is the section that must be completed for each individual transaction.” Her hair moved. Oh God, his mouth was so close to touching her skin. Everything covered by her leggings clenched tight. “I doubt you’ll have any trouble, but once you’ve completed the first entry, I will review it to be sure.”

“I guess we—I better get started.” The statement sounded breathy, so very unlike her. “Unless there’s anything else?”

“Oh, there is.” Porter moved away and she sagged into the chair, heart thumping, mouth dry. His expression wasn’t gloating, though. It was focused. On her. “I need to know your hard limits by close of business today.” He nodded toward the files. “The top one contains a list. Simply put an X beside anything you’re not comfortable with. I assume you plan to keep your somewhat odd safe word?”

“Yes.” Needing to escape from the intensity of his undivided attention, she flipped open the file. Her gaze landed on the first item listed. “Kissing is a limit?”

“For some.”

“Why?”

He remained silent a moment. “I suppose they don’t want to inspire or deepen any emotional connections. It’s fairly common, actually.”

Frankie laughed to herself. “Not for nothing, but I’ve kissed my fair share of guys. Most of the time it does nothing to further an emotional connection. Usually, it just inspires me to go home and watch reruns of Frasier.” She thought she saw his lips twitch, but decided her mind was playing tricks. “So…you’re not one of these kiss boycotters?”

His sigh was long-suffering. “This seems rather important to you.”

God, attempt to be a little less obvious that you’d like to kiss his sculpted, British mouth. She flipped the file shut, knowing she’d open it again as soon as he returned to his desk. “Nope, I’m just curious. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” he repeated under his breath. “I have no problem with kissing, but I don’t make a bloody production out of it. I usually limit it to one.”

The laughter burst out of her. “Do you give the woman a coupon or something?”

“Are we going to discuss each item on the list at length?” His eyes narrowed. “If you’re this concerned about kissing, I rather wonder how you’ll react when you reach the bottom.”

“Isn’t reach the bottom an item on the list?”

“Honestly, Francesca.”

She leaned back in her chair, enjoying the fact that she’d succeeded in ruffling his feathers. It could become a habit. As soon as the thought appeared, she smashed it with a mental baseball bat. There would be no making a habit of Porter. Their differences were far too extreme. Just for laughs, she pictured him sitting in her uncle’s kitchen, waiting for bacon and eggs. That would be the day.

“You’re daydreaming again.”

“Okay, okay.” Frankie straightened in her seat, sending him a glare. “What did your last servant die from?”

“Funny.” He crossed the room toward his desk. “Deal with the top file first, Francesca.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Did he pause in his stride? She decided he had as she flipped open the beige file and snatched up a pen. Biting. It was the first word she zeroed in on. Frankie shifted in her seat as she envisioned Porter’s teeth sinking into her shoulder, her hip. The vibration of his growl echoing through her body. Should delicious knots of pleasure be pulling tight in her belly at the idea of making that vision a reality? She’d never been bitten before. Why did her body sense she’d like it? Above the word, her pen hovered, ready to make an X. Instead, she moved on. Bondage. Several methods were listed and none of them loosened the knots in her stomach. Ironically.

She drew an X beside gagging. Leashes. Something about having her oxygen compromised made her panic. When she landed on role-play, however, her thighs pressed together to compensate for the surge of heat. She swore she could feel Porter watching her, but a glance in his direction proved her wrong. Unbelievable. The simple act of reading a list could trigger responses in her body that no man, save Porter, had been capable of sparking. With a deep breath, she moved on, crossing out a few more items before stopping at voyeurism. She touched her pen down with the intention of making an X, but fashioned a question mark instead. Closing her eyes, she envisioned herself in a room with Porter, his hands and mouth moving over her skin. In the corner, two men sat on a chaise lounge, watching their every move. Sweat broke out beneath her clothes. Something told her to change the question mark to an X, but she flipped the file shut before the warning voice could penetrate.