When he wont give himself to you

Naomi

******

It's been a while since Liam Donovan and I began spending time together. Yet it feels as though I know less about him than the day we met. He's knowingly holding back a part of him from me, and I don't know why. I know this, it's frustrating as hell. If you can’t tell, I want that man. Did I forget to mention Liam’s my boss? Well yeah, he is. I get that's as good a reason as any for him not to tell me his life’s story. It’s been weeks of late nights in his office working, and of me trying to make small talk hoping to gain some sort of insight into who he is. No. Liam has this way of turning the prying back on you. Before you know it, you’re answering your own damn questions. Still, I see the way he watches me. The way his unusual gray eyes seem to tear away at my clothes until I'm standing naked. How his broad jaw clinches when I purposefully take my time crossing and uncrossing my legs. Yesterday, the most surprising thing happened. I invited Liam over to my house for dinner and he accepted. I'm not sure if what I was wearing helped or not. Well, I mean I was wearing a tight above the knee pinstripe blue skirt with a front slit and a white lace blouse that was just see-through enough to offer a peak, but it wasn't slutty. Oh, and I was in the middle of crossing my legs and trying the small talk thing again.

“So, do you have any plans for the weekend Liam?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. How about you Naomi?”

“I thought I’d try out a new recipe. Do you cook?”

“Here and there.”

What the hell does here and there mean?

“Well, I usually cook too much. So, you’re more than welcome to come over for dinner if you’d like,” my exposed thigh rising unnecessarily high to slide over the other.

His eyes follow as a hard to read hand runs through his shiny brown hair with beautiful flecks of red. He pauses glaring at me for a nervous ten seconds that felt like an hour.

“It’s okay Liam. You don’t ha—”

“I would love to Naomi. What should I bring?”

"Just you,” I damn near moan. “I’m sorry. That came out all wr—”

“It’s okay,” he grins. “What time?”

“Saturday at Seven, if that works for you?”

“Sounds good.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow Liam.”

“Yes, you will Naomi.”

The doorbell rings and I want to call the whole thing off. What the hell was I thinking, inviting my boss to my house alone? What was your plan Naomi, seduce the man with your food or the tiny ass dress you're wearing?

When the doorbell rings again I tug at the hem of my dress. Nibbling my lip, I unlock the door. Trying to control my shaking hand, and my erratic pounding heart, I pull open the door.

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