illicit affair: chapter 2

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel his hand on my leg, it moves up slowly every second feels longer than the last. I swallow the lump growing in my throat and try to suppress the rising heat.
He’s at the hem of my dress, I can feel a cool trail of where his fingers have been.
I look at him out the corner of my eye, he’s composed, engulfed in his work, typing with his free hand.
His fingertips are tracing small patterns as they work their way up my thigh. I just want to grab him, to place kisses on his neck, drive him wild the same way he’s doing to me.
I feel the presence of someone in front of us.
“Mark” He doesn’t even look up, “what do you want?” His hand’s still on my thigh. I start to blush what if Mark sees? I start to panic, I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, his hand still getting higher, inches away from where I really want it to be. I look at him secretly pleading for him to stop.
“Head office is on the phone they need to talk to you.”
“I’ll be there in a minute I just need to finish this email” with that Mark walks away.
“You should relax, Mark is too concerned with being the perfect assistant he can barely see a foot in front of him” he squeezes my leg and stands up.
Heat rushes to where his hand was, I regret wanting him to move it.
I watch him rise, his shirt sitting snug on his broad shoulders, slightly untucked from his trousers,
he grabs his suit jacket and moves towards the door, I watch his arse as he walks away, he stops at the door, turning as he slides his jacket on, even through his shirt I can see his muscles ripple as the jacket slides up and over his arms.
“I left the notes on my desktop” he watches me as I look over to his laptop, it has a post-it note stuck to it.
“Seven o’clock, Italian, red, optional” this list might seem innocent and strange to anyone who sees it, but it makes me smile. It’s not innocent at all, we meet at seven for Italian food and red wine at his place. Clothing optional.
I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. He winks and walks away.
“Elena” Marks back at the door.
“Yeah”
“Your husband’s at the front desk” my grin disappears from my face.