My coworker, Henley Holloway, had an evil side to her.

She’d purposely worn a fitted pink dress and some high fucking heels.

It hugged her ass, which was currently taunting me as she bent over the table and grabbed another file.

“Okay. You’ve got to stop fucking doing that,” I hissed.

She’d been all smiles this morning while we ate breakfast. She hadn’t said a word about what happened last night, and she seemed completely okay with everything. I’d prepared for it to be awkward.

I’d prepared for her to want to talk about it ad nauseam.

I’d prepared for her to be angry or hostile or something.

But nope. She was happy and calm and unaffected.

Un-fucking-affected.

And I was left with a pissed-off dick and two very angry testicles. Even though I’d given them relief, it wasn’t enough.

Not with those eyes looking at me right now. That devious smirk plastered on her face.

“Stop doing what?”

“Bending over the table,” I said, making no effort to hide my irritation. “Wearing sexy dresses. Laughing and smiling and acting relaxed.”

“You need to take it down a notch, Chadwick.”

She smirked, coming closer. “I did not bend over the table. I barely reached for the file. My dress is very basic and comes past my knees and shows zero cleavage. And I’m not laughing or smiling. We’re having normal conversation.”

I groaned. “Whatever. You’re pissing me off.”

She narrowed her gaze, and then her mouth fell open. “Oh. Ohhhhhh. You’re frustrated. You want me, don’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Princess. All men get blue balls.”

“I thought you were going to take a shower last night. I figured you’d, you know, take care of business.” She chuckled. She was enjoying this.

“I did. Twice. But it didn’t work.”