Mark My Spot by Anna Joung

Author:Anna Joung
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

The next day felt like business as usual until Mark came into the office.

I had traded my blue dress for a sleek, forest green one with beige heels and a gold chain necklace. It was a hot day in Philly and, before I left the apartment, I scooped my hair into a ponytail that swished from side to side on my bare neck when I walked. My approach for the day was to focus, solely, on work but that all went right out the window when Mark walked in.

His suit was a pale gray today. The lighter the suit, the more his muscles bulged. This jacket had a slimmer cut than the one from the previous day and it showed off his trim waist. I eyed the white shirt beneath his jacket discreetly. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fallen asleep last night thinking of the body that lay beneath the suits. God, I felt my cheek flushing just thinking about it.

Mark paused at the receptionist's desk. He was carrying three drinks in a beverage carrier and he lifted one of them out to hand to Melinda. Melinda simpered her thanks and Mark gestured for me to follow him. Ignoring the curious look from Melinda, I slipped past her and met Mark in the hall.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and quiet.

“Good morning, Mr. Harris,” I responded. “Can I help you with those?”

He handed me the coffee carrier. “You can, actually. This one,” he indicated one of the coffees, “Is for you.”

“Oh, is it-“

“Just cream, no sugar.”

Just how I took my coffee. I quirked an eyebrow and he gestured for me to follow him, where he led me into his office, pausing to unlock the door. Once inside, he set his briefcase on his desktop turned to face me, easing back to sit on the desk.

“You know my coffee order,” I said to him.

“I do.”

I considered the cup in my hand. “I can’t tell if that’s sweet or creepy.”

He smiles and, god, I swear I almost feel my knees going week. I stare at him for a moment, dazzled by his teeth, the lopsidedness, the tiny scar, waiting for a response. It takes me a moment to realize I must be holding his coffee, too. I took a few steps closer to him and offer the cup.

“Are the two so mutually exclusive?” He asked, taking the cup and setting it beside him.

“Well, shouldn’t they be?”

“If it’s creepy to notice you and notice how you take your coffee, then I’m a creep,” he said, still smiling. “I would like to point out that it is a small office.”

We’re a foot away, max. I can smell his cologne and something muskier, heavier, hotter beneath that. Sandalwood, teakwood, mahogany. He worked out in the mornings, I knew it. He worked out in the morning, to work up a nice musk, and then he came into the firm to torture me.

I’m suddenly aware that I’m inches from his face.

And oh, my god, I put myself there.

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