Chapter 3 - Call me maybe

SILVIA'S POV

"Of course he's trying to take you to bed! What are you, blind?" Tess laughed at her own lame joke, ignoring my glare. That's the second time I'm reminded I'm short-sighted, was I a touchy type, I'd have already snapped.

I attacked my salad, angry, though not at the joke, but at this whole conundrum I've found myself in ever since the new editor showed up. "Well, that's not the attitude an employer should have." I grumbled. Just because he's hot and handsome, doesn't mean he may as well hit on every female being that breathes. Or rather, he can be my guest if he wants to, but I'd rather he left me out of the equation.

Tess rolled her eyes, though, disagreeing. "Come on, Sissy, when's the last time a guy made this big of an effort for you?"

I sighed. Sometimes I wonder how come we're friends ... we couldn't be more different if we tried. "He's not ... making an effort, Tess. He's not trying to win me over, sweep me off my feet to make me his for life. Mr. Watson-"

"Jake. It's a sexy name for a sexy, sexy, sexy man, use it."

I rolled my eyes, as I often do with her. Needless to say she's got a huge crush on our new boss. Duh, who hasn't? The whole female side of the office has gone crazy over this guy. It's like they've never seen a hot man in their entire life. "Fine, Jake ..." I corrected grudgingly. "Jake is merely trying to get into my pants. I see nothing flattering in the fact that my employer sees me as a doll he'd like to play with."

My friend bit her lip, her mind evidently elsewhere. "Hmm ... I'd gladly be his doll ..."

"Tess ..."

"What? He's hot! Scratch that, Jake is so goddamn hot I'm scorched every time I meet his gaze!"

Again, I rolled my eyes, leaving my salad. The downside of being on a diet is that you gotta eat everything you hate, and I'm really not a fan of vegetables. I wouldn't have even gone on a diet, I mean, I don't really care about my size, but my love handles have become a little too evident ever since I stopped going to the gym.

So the choice is: either I lose weight or I go shopping for new clothes and, may I tell you, I hate, hate, hate shopping. Buying always new clothes is a waste of money that can be better spent on books, if you ask me.

"Exaggerated." I grumbled. I mean, okay, maybe Mr. Watson's hot, but he's a jackass for crying out loud, and that is not in the least bit attractive for me. I'll be unpopular, but the ... bad boy type has nothing on me. I prefer good guys. Even though there's this to say, the sweeter they look, the more dangerous they are, so it's not always true that only bad boys are really bad.

Yet, I really don't dig that type of man. The ... hey, look, I'm awesome and I know it kind of guy that thinks women are tools created merely to remind him of how astonishing he is. Ugh, my high school boyfriend was like that. I'm more of a ... sweet boy to sit on the couch and watch TV with kind of girl. I suppose that's why Matt and I seem to be hitting it off so well.

"If you cared to get off that high horse of yours, Sissy, you'd realize I'm right."

I frowned. "What?" I asked, realizing I'd been spacing out. I'll admit I was thinking about tonight's date. Matt said he'll take me somewhere special. Funny how we've only met last week yet it's like we've known each other all our lives. We've only gone on two dates, but I feel like it's going pretty well.

Whether he's friend or boyfriend material, that'll have to wait to be decided. For now I enjoy his company.

"Have you even tried to get to know him at least one bit before judging him?" Tess wondered, a little bit upset.

I arched an eyebrow at her. "Who?"

"Ugh, Jake! I was talking about Jake!"

"Oh ... that one. Well, do you know him enough to have an opinion of him?" I asked, inquiring. Why does she always get so touchy about him, I'll never understand. "An opinion that isn't solely based off his six pack and his gorgeous face, that is."

She laughed. "How do you know about his six pack?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, a guy like that probably lives in the gym." Not that there's anything wrong with sculpted abs, hell, I do like them, but to me brainy is the new sexy. I mean, fine, I enjoy a nice pair of abs the same as any woman, but unless that comes accompanied by a fuming brain, I'm not interested, thanks.

My friend bit her lips, nodding. "Hmm, yeah ... tell you what, you should go to his office by 3 pm."

"Why?"

"Well ... he recently had installed a punching bag with which he blows off the steam. He does that every day by 3 pm."

I huffed. Now I realize the reason for the fuss some of my co-workers make to see the boss by that hour. Gosh, some women can really be worse than men. I thought this hot boss thing would die down in a week, instead it's been over four weeks yet they're still fangirling over him like cats in heat. I get it, he's hot, but Jeez, there are like ... billions of other hot guys out there, he's not God's gift to women, he's just some guy with whom Mother Nature was very kind. Get a grip, for God's sakes.

"Yeah, thanks, but no, thanks." I replied, bored, finally dumping my salad. Damn diet. I want pizza. But pizza here is terrible, unless I go to a very traditional Italian place, and of course, pizza is terrible for the diet. Sigh. Either I restart going to the gym, or I suck it up and go shopping for new clothes.

Tess laughed, obviously. "Sissy, are you sure you're straight?"

I arched an eyebrow at her. "Just because I'm not dying to go peek Mr. Six Pack there while he trains, doesn't mean I'm a lesbian."

"Honey, if a man like that doesn't make you form a puddle with your drool, then I think you really need to reconsider your orientation."

I groaned, exasperated. "Oh, for God's sakes, I couldn't care less, alright?! To me Jake Watson is a jerk for crying out loud and I don't care if he's hot and shit, I'm as indifferent to his six pack as you would be to my boobs."

The male laugh I heard coming from behind me made me inwardly curse myself. Of course, because so I'm damn lucky.

"Well, you should see it before judging, honey. We can schedule a date and hour for the show, if you like." Mr. Watson bit back, amused. Tess could hardly retain her laugh.1

I rolled my eyes, not even wanting to turn around to see him. "Not interested, thanks."

He laughed, coming to sit beside Tess, though, and I had to come face to face with that annoyingly smug smirk of his. "Well, let me know if you change your mind. My door's always open for you, sweetheart." He winked at me, raising a hand to flag down the waitress, who came swiftly.

"Ugh, for God's sakes, quit it!" I snapped. "The chances I'll sleep with you are less than the ones you'd have of flying, alright?!" Okay, maybe I said it too loud. People from the other tables turned to look at me, some surprised, some laughing. Maybe I should be more discreet, also because he's my boss, but I'm really sick and tired of all his flirting.

He might have quit being an annoying moron that makes my life impossible, but he still flirts. I know that for most women it would be incredibly flattering, but to me it's a sign that he doesn't take me seriously, and if there's one thing I hate it being exchanged for what I am not: a 23 year old girl come to America in seek of adventures.

I came to America to work, to build my career, not to hook up with every American boy I encounter. People seem to think that girls my age are always so wild, but I'm not. I'm the most posed person you'll meet. I'm career-oriented, always have been, I leave the wildness to Tess, I'm more of a gah, don't ever bother me type of person.

Also, Mr. Watson here reminds me too much of my moronic ex, and ... thanks, but no, thanks. I've had my share of bad boy drama, and it wasn't at all worth it.

Tess looked in between us, eager to see what would happen next, same as the people at the neighboring tables, while I sighed, dropping my gaze. Mr. Watson seemed unfazed, though. Any guy would have been flustered or offended, I expected him to come up with some cocky joke of his, yet he seemed totally indifferent, as if I hadn't just blatantly rejected him.

One would think, he's not used to being rejected, therefore he would have a reaction of some sort, yet he seemingly couldn't care less.

The waitress, who'd arrived at the exact moment I'd snapped, eagerly to his orders, seeing to send me an icy glare, as if offended that I'd just turned down, so brutally even, such a hot specimen. Once she'd taken his order, with a wide side of flirting, she left, but Mr. Watson still said nothing.

The whole rest of the lunch was spent in utter silence. The most awkward 20 minutes of my entire life, I swear. And definitely the first time ever I saw my boss speechless.

The way back wasn't as awkward because Tess and him made small talk, but I could feel his gaze on me every now and then, despite my every effort at ignoring him. Maybe I was too harsh, but I mean, understand me, first he makes my life impossible just to have a good laugh on my expenses, then he makes it his goal of the season to take me to bed ... we didn't exactly start off on the right foot, did we?

***

Two hours into aimless editing, I decided I'd swallow my pride and ask for advice. Sometimes even I need help, and from the last person I'd ever want to ask it to. I'd have asked Peter, but he was super-busy, hence ... grabbing the stack of papers, I stood and headed to the boss' office. Ignoring Tess' smirk, I knocked, but received no answer, so I just entered.

The sight left me speechless. I'll admit it was hard not to gulp. Mr. Watson was by the window, hands against the glass, head hanging low, seemingly pensive. The main detail, however, was that his shirt was lying on the desk.

I could see the muscles of his back, so perfectly defined, and I prayed for him not to ever turn around, because I'm not sure how would I react to the rest. Okay, okay, I said I couldn't care less about his six pack, but ... I'm still a woman, and opposite to what some people seem to think, I'm not a lesbian.

Awkwardly, I cleared my throat, half closing my eyes and turning to the side, in order to avoid the inevitable sight. "Um ... hello?"

With the corner of my eyes, I could see him turning around slowly, but I forced myself to stare at the wall in front of me. "Silvia. What is it?"

His voice was raucous, not as if he had a cold or something, but like ... he hadn't been talking for a while, or as if he'd consumed it by shrieking at the top of his lungs. His formal tone surprised me, even though I'm not sure about the first name basis.

"Uh ..." I cleared my throat, a bit embarrassed. Hey, it's my boss half naked, I'm allowed to be a bundle of awkward nerves. "... I have some questions. About the papers to edit, I mean."

"Sure, let me see." Again with the formal tone. Wow, I really burned him with that outburst at lunch, didn't I?

I heard him took step closer, but I kept my gaze on the wall, so when I felt him near, I just handed him the papers blindly. "It's the last paragraph on page 12, it's confusing for me. I think it's a slang or something, because I've never heard those words."

Mr. Watson took the papers. Weird, this time he didn't even linger in brushing the my hand. "Let me see ... yeah, it's definitely a slang, but not American."

"No?" I wondered awkwardly. Okay, try standing there in front of your half naked boss, getting a stiff neck just not to peek and still try to be normal. I dare you not to feel like burying your head under the sand. Mmh, alright, ignore this ... you'd probably be braver than I and just peek. I suppose I'm the odd one out.

"No, it's ... Australian, I think." I heard papers being shuffled, and with the corner of my eyes I could see him scanning the pages. "Yeah, definitely Australian, I've only heard this type of talk in Canberra."

"Ok, so um ..." I cleared my throat once again. Jeez, I think I've never been this embarrassed in my entire life. "... how do I ... uh ... what do I do?"

"Turn around, for starters." Mr. Watson chuckled. "You're gonna get a stiff neck like that. Just look, it won't hurt." There you are, cocky again.

"I'd rather not."

He laughed. "Why? Afraid you're gonna get wet? I'm here to help, don't worry."

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh, for the love of God, just quit flirting!"

He laughed more, though coming closer. I could feel him standing just an inch or two from me, enough to huskily whisper in my ear: "It's alright, Silvia, if you want me, I'm right here, baby."

I closed my eyes, pushing rationality into my thoughts. Just because he's hot, doesn't mean I'll be his prey. Hence, I stepped back. ""How do I fix that, then?" I asked, trying to be as formal as possible.

Mr. Watson smirked, I saw him with the corner of my eyes. He was so close, I could feel his hot breath against my neck, and I didn't like it one bit. I'd have told him off, but he switched back to a formal tone: "No need to edit, it's correct like that. It's good to keep the slang, it makes the writing more real."

"Okay, then I-" I cut myself off mid-sentence because he grabbed my hand, successfully swirling me around, which forced me to stare right back at him. His smirk was too cocky for my liking, but I gotta admit I was more mesmerized by the close sight of his hazel-green eyes.

Dashing, that's true. It's a pity that such a beautiful exterior is paired up with such an awful persona, but then, I suppose it happens pretty often. His hand was on my hip, and I could feel all the warmth of it, but I forced myself to be indifferent. It wasn't easy, but anger was more, to be honest.

I was about to move away, but before I could, he pulled me into him, slamming my body against his hard chest. His lips came dangerously close to brushing mine, and I gotta say, I did feel a bit of churning in my stomach when he huskily whispered: "I'll count up to three. If you don't stop me, I'll kiss you."

Ugh, the nerve. "You can't-"

"One ..."

"This is sexual harassment. I should just report you to HR."

"Two ..."

"Ugh, for God's sakes!"

"Three ..."

My eyes grew as wide as saucers, my heart thumped in my ribcage, my stomach churned, my legs turned into jelly. His lips were soft yet hard, his kiss was sweet yet dominant. He didn't wait for it, just traced my bottom lip, demanding access to my mouth. I heard the stack of papers hitting the floor when he slid both arms around me, pulling me closer. Rationally I wanted to force myself to resist, but ... there was something stopping me. Not sure what.

When I didn't grant him access, Jake bit my bottom lip, so that I did open my mouth, and he took advantage of it to slide his tongue inside. I didn't order it to, but my own tongue moved on its own, following his movements, my own arms wrapped around his shoulders, my own body grew closer to his. It felt like my brain was on vacation and my muscles acted on their own desires.

Part of me wanted to give him a lesson. He couldn't just come up and kiss me because he felt like it. But ... the right now stronger side of me wanted me to close my eyes and just bask in that delightful feeling caused by his kiss. I should have pushed him off, slapped him, for the nerve he had, yet ... I let him guide me against the desk, and when his hand slid up my neck, I felt shivers down my spine.

Jake broke the kiss, but only for his lips to trail small kisses all over my neck as his husky voice pointed out: "You didn't stop me."

No shit, Sherlock. The question is, why? Why didn't I stop him? Why on earth, instead of kneeing him in the balls, did I just let out a breathless moan as he nibbled on my neck? Why, when I felt his free hand slide my shirt out of my pants, didn't I stop it from coming in contact with my bare skin? Why did I feel so hot all over as he glued our bodies closer and slid his hand upper and upper? Why, oh why did I let him do all that to me, when I all should have done was tell him to fuck off?

I'm a virgin, that's why.

I'm 23, virgin, and goddamn tired of it. It's not that his touch was irresistible, it's that he gave me what I've been missing for so long. I'm always so utterly wary, so utterly cautious that I never give in to anything I'd want. I tell myself I'd rather wait for the right one than just give it to any guy I encounter, but ... come on, a girl has needs.

And when a guy like Jake Watson pins you against his desk, nibbling you into submission, there's not much even a stubborn and proud girl like me can do.

I felt one of his hands up my side, while the other leisurely undid the first couple of buttons of my shirt. In my right mind, I would have broken those curious hands. In my dizzy state, instead, I let mine slid along his hard back, feeling every muscle, until I reached his buttocks, so that I could grip those yummy ass cheeks and pull him closer against him, needing the friction with my core. God, I felt his erection against my thigh.

I've only ever read of such moments in the books I've had to translate, and every time I groaned, convinced that it could never happen, it's not how reality works. You don't just go from formal talk to basically dry-humping each other against his desk. I suppose I was wrong, because that's exactly what we were doing. Ugh, wasn't I so sexually frustrated it wouldn't be this difficult to tell him off.

Jake smirked against my skin, evidently appreciating my reaction. Ugh, I hate proving him right, I so, so hate proving him right ... then why wasn't I moving?

He undid a couple of buttons at a time, until the last one. He pulled back for a moment, and the lust I spotted in his hazel-green eyes as he eyed my 38D cup, I can't deny it was not just flattering, but also arousing per se. I can't recall when's the last time I felt so ... desired. Or rather, I can't recall when's the last time that, reading pure lust, pure desire in a man's eyes have made me feel this good with myself.

I might have seen lust in the eyes of the guys I've gone out with, but this time it was ... different. With Jake it seemed different. Normally a horny guy will look at you like you're a fuming steak he can't wait to devour ... that's not much flattering in my opinion, because it means he sees me as an object, as something that'll serve to quench his thirst.

Jake was ... different. He didn't drool over my large breasts, he drank me in, leisurely, like an expert sommelier tasting an excellent wine. He took in every bit of me, as if mentally counting the ways he could make me scream his name at the top of my lungs.

He bit his lip sultrily, eyes fixated on my breasts, yet it didn't seem ... perverted, like the guy in the street checking you out, he looked like an artist taking in the beauty of a masterpiece. Like ... when you stand in front of a famous painting, and you remain breathless, speechless, unable to understand how's it possibly that humankind could ever conceive such beauty.

Even a frigid heart like mine can't remain unfazed at this. But you know what, I think that's exactly why did I pull back from it. I'm not normally sentimental, but I want my first time to be special ... and it wouldn't be with Jake. Feeling desired like that is refreshing, yes, but ... that's not all I need. I'm old fashioned, I want my heart to be in it as much as my body.

"I have to go." I murmured in a haste, slipping out of his grip. "Uh ... I'll keep in mind the suggestion." I tried to be as formal as possible as I started buttoning my shirt. I could feel my cheeks as red as tomatoes, and that's never goddamn happened to me. I don't blush, damnit. I don't feel my heart racing, I don't evade a man's gaze just because it's hard to remain rooted in my decision. Who is Jake Watson to make me feel all this? How dare he give me these emotions? Ugh.

He half smiled, sliding back against me. "Fine, go." He agreed, though shooing my hands away for him to button my shirt on his own. "I'll see you tonight."

"What?" I must have gone deaf or something, because I can't have heard it right.

He chuckled, leaning in to peck my lips, then trailed kisses along my jaw, until he could huskily whisper in my ear: "I'm a bloodhound, baby, and when I smell virgin, I can't just step back."

"I'm not-"

"Please ... give me some credit." Jake chuckled. Damn sexy chuckle of his.

He leaned in, enough to graze my lips, yet he didn't touch them. I did feel his hand over my butt, though, and I realized he'd slipped my phone out of my pocket only when I saw it in his hands. He typed something, then gave me my phone back. "Now you've got my number." He said, leaning in to capture my lips in his.

His kiss was long and lingering, and it felt like it knocked the air out of my lungs straight at the beginning and only when he finally pulled back I could breathe. Yet he trailed light kisses over my neck, to once more reach my ear. "Hit me up if you're in the mood to learn a thing or two. I'll go gentle, I promise."

Well, fuck. Did he just elect himself as my own booty call?