I am in the office, just looking at the view behind me, when I her the click of my door locking. I didn't hear it open, so I swing my chair to see who is locking us in in my office.
Cory.
I haven't seen him nor talked to him since we last were in New York. That was four days ago.
"What are you doing in my office?" I sound so cold and like a bitch.
"I came to see you," he replies and then proceeds to walk in and stand on the other side of the table.
I don't say anything but just look at him, my eyes running down his body. He looks so good today, he is showing more of those muscles and tattoos, the way he is dressed too, its making him look like sex on legs. He is rugged as usual, stormy even, if you can describe someone with that word because he seems to always be walking with this force, he gets in a room and everyone knows he is there.
I don't feel any pounce of shame or even try to hide that I am looking at him, taking my time doing so too.
