Loving Flynn (Cali/New York Men Series)

Chapter 3 - Ellie

Tuesday Morning - 7:30 am

The office is void of the chatter I heard yesterday. Every desk sits empty, but the light inside Flynn's office burns bright.

I wonder when he arrived this morning or whether he even went home.

I'm proud I landed this job, but tension pulls at my stomach. I went home and fantasised about my boss last night, picturing him taking me right on his desk as I touched myself to an orgasm, and now I stand outside his door trying to collect my breathing. Be a big girl Ellie, so he's hot? Smoking actually. 

Just do your job, and keep your mind out of the gutter. Yeah, easier said than done. Besides my ex-boyfriend from college, I haven't had much to do with men. Not to say that I haven't had offers; I have, but no one has sparked my interest. But yesterday, all I could think about was how he made the butterflies in my stomach come alive with just one look. I wanted to reach over and hug him for giving me the job, but I'm glad I contained myself and didn't. He doesn't seem like a hugger. He doesn't seem very friendly either.

I shake my hands out in front of me and stretch my neck from side to side like a boxer waiting to start their match, and then I knock softly.

"Come in." His gruff voice commands.

My stomach flutters again. Taking a deep breath, I release it through my nose and enter the space. It smells divine. Warm like honey and man, and my stomach tightens. I flatten my hands against my dress, smoothing invisible wrinkles. My palms are sweating; why am I perspiring so much? It's winter, for Christ's sake.

I swallow a lump in my throat and plaster a broad smile that hurts my cheeks.

"Good morning Mr Stone," I say with a curt nod. He's in a button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled slightly as one hand rubs his forehead. The tattoos I saw yesterday are on display once more.

I take a moment to have a better look. Intricate lines run up from his wrists; words mark his skin, but I'm too far away to see exactly what they say. I itch to get closer, but I keep my distance. Yet I can't pull my eyes away from him; Flynn is the most beautiful specimen I've ever seen.

"Flynn," he replies without looking up in my direction.

Right. I rake my eyes from his arms and look at his face. His beard is cut short, and my fingers tingle wanting to touch it.

"You're early, good." His brows are furrowed as he reads something, and I wonder what frustrates him.

I nod, even though I know he doesn't see it. His eyes were still downcast on his screen.

"Yes, I thought I could get a head start. Do you want me to do anything for you, Mr St... Sorry, Flynn?"

Calling him Flynn feels strange; he doesn't seem like the man who suits first names; Mr stone fits.

Though at the sound of his name, he looks up. His eyes drink me in, but only briefly; maybe it was wishful thinking. His face is now expressionless, like he was staring through me and not directly at me.

"Coffee. I need a fuc... I need a coffee. Do you know how to make one?" He asks and raises a brow. His voice is devoid of any kindness. The rumours and my observations were correct.

I manage another nod. Hoping I look more in the right place than I feel.

"Black, no sugar." He replies.

I stand there and watch him for a second more and realise he isn't going to show me where the kitchen is. His head is still down, and his brows are pinched tighter than before. He is busying himself on his laptop, and I take it as my cue to leave. Well, if he isn't, Mr rainbows and sunshine.

I've heard he was direct and icy, and I can see why. But I need this job, and just because he has no personality doesn't mean I can't.

So I decided to lock a wide smile onto my face for the remainder of today and do everything I could to make this the best experience possible.

Some sunshine may rub off on him.

My shoulders slump back down as I leave his office and release a breath. The floor is massive, hundreds of desks line the path, and it takes me a few wrong turns to finally find the kitchen at the far end of the floor. Its massive, High tech appliances stocked with every biscuit, coffee and tea you could think of.

I'm in a high-end convenience store. I could do recon here before I leave and take some back to my apartment. What? Girls gotta eat.

Sitting on the end of a large granite bench top is the biggest coffee machine I've ever seen, industrial looking and spotless as though no one has ever dared to touch it. I'm sure they have, but you wouldn't be able to tell in this Pristine condition.

I press a few buttons, and after about three tries, I finally make Flynn a coffee, and the thought of whether he had a chance to eat breakfast crosses my mind. I don't know why I care, but for some reason, I do. I make him a quick sandwich and head back towards his office.

I brace the tray in one hand and knock on his office door again. Day 1; here goes nothing.