There was a file on the table between us again—its edges perfectly squared to the surface—but neither of us touched it.“You’ve had a good week,” he said. Gay sex Inside were a handful of pages—client notes, billing details, nothing urgent and nothing he couldn’t have reviewed without me. He looked up, took it, and smiled faintly.“Appreciate it,” he said. They held their own language—quiet, confident, always just shy of flirtation.The rest of the week followed a quiet pattern. Everyone deferred to him. But I said yes.“Of course,” I replied.“Thanks,” he said, his eyes lingering on mine a beat longer than necessary. I caught myself watching him from my office doorway, mesmerized by how he carried himself. Typed responses and deleted them. But Sean’s tone was disarming, his expression earnest.“I know it’s not your job,” he added quickly. “I owe you.”La Fenice was a twenty-minute walk and notoriously slow with takeout orders, but I made it back just in time. Every time he smiled at me, I felt stripped bare.That afternoon, he passed my desk and paused.
