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Sexy Sat: Italians Do It Better

Are you ready for another sneaky peak inside God’s Gift 1?

Looks like Gina could be added to the list of girls Sebastian is planning to
bed during his year long stay in New York, but that would mean he’d
have to break his rule of never with a co-worker.

* * *

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Gina is focused on the spreadsheet that’s open on the screen. Files are stacked neatly on one side of her desk; bright pink and orange daisy-like flowers in a small glass vase sit to the left of her computer next to a photo of an old man in an antique picture frame.

She takes a sip from her mug that bears the slogan: Italians do it better.

A tiny desk fan oscillates, barely disturbing the air inside her confined space. She scoops up her hair, holding it on top of her head as she rolls it from side to side and blows out a breath.

I’m hit with the sudden desire to run my tongue up the column of her neck, all the way from her collarbone up to her ear … slowly … before unzipping her dress and kissing a path all the way down each vertebrae of her spine to the rise of her arse. And spend hours showing her it’s not just Italians who do it well …

She must feel my presence because she suddenly lets go of her hair and snaps her head round in my direction, her eyes widening, lips parting as she pulls in a sharp breath.

I can’t stop my small smile at her unease. “Ready for lunch?”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t notice the time, I was−. Yes. I mean, almost. Just let me …”

I’m damn sure she’s good at her job − Tom wouldn’t have assigned her to me if she wasn’t − but her flustered babbling is adorable. And encouraging.

She has to click the mouse twice before hitting the little white X in the red box to close the document on the screen before shutting down her computer.

I unnerve her. Well that’s only fair because she unnerves the fuck out of me. She could seriously have me breaking my golden rule: never ever with a co-worker. Although it would be worth it, just to get the chance to taste her.

Resting a hand on the top of her cubicle screen I lean in a little as she reaches beneath the desk for her handbag.

“Tom can’t make it. So it’s just you and me.”

She tries to hide it, but there’s no mistaking that little intake of breath as she straightens up in her seat.

* * *

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Terri x

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