Read Over the Line for Free Online Page B

hotel, and take whatever steps necessary to force the new pass code out of her so I can access the program she fucked with and fix it. So I wait outside, polluting my lungs with two more smokes and drawing on whatever reserves of self-control I have left. When she’s in there longer than I figure it should take for a cup of coffee and some breakfast, I start to panic that she made me and slipped out the back. I keep my head down as I pass the windows and press open the door.
    Bells clang above my head. I hate when people put fucking bells on their doors. It makes stealth damn near impossible.
    A couple seated near the front looks up, and so does an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a bun, who’s sitting at the table near the door to the kitchen in back.
    “Just seat yourself, honey,” she says to me. “I’ll be right with you.”
    I keep my face turned away as I find a table in the opposite corner of the restaurant, because seated at the table with the woman is Lee. Her back is to me and there’s an open file box on the table between them. She’s hunched over some papers in front of her, and I breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn’t lift her head.
    The woman says something to her then stands and pulls a menu from a wooden rack near the door to the kitchen on her way over. “Coffee?” she asks, handing it to me.
    I take the menu from her and keep my voice as low as possible as I answer. I’m about twenty feet away, and there’s background music, but I’d like to think, as much as she heard it, Lee would recognize my voice. “Thanks.”
    “Cream or sugar?”
    I give her a shake of my head. “Black.”
    As I watch Lee over the top of the menu, her fingers thread into her waves and she twists her finger into a strand as she thinks. She’s always done that. We’d be working on some project, or studying for an exam, and I’d just sit and watch her.
    That’s the trigger—her hold over me.
    Men are like that: hardwired to certain subtle stimuli that make us take notice. Every guy has a trigger—some maneuver that makes a member of the opposite sex stand out and seem irresistible. Who knows where it starts? Some woman at some point does that
thing
that flips an irreversible switch in his head. He spends the rest of his days searching for another woman who can replicate the subtle movement that left the indelible imprint in his mind.
    The first time I saw Lee do that, that first day in business law, I hadn’t developed the trigger theory yet. I didn’t understand the primal drive. All I knew was that I had to have her. What I didn’t yet understand is that there’s no turning off the trigger, even after you’ve had the woman in question. What I’ve realized since is that no other woman seems to trigger me the way Lee does.
    As she twirls that strand of hair, my dick predictably shifts in my pants as it starts to thicken. Like everything else in my life, I have full control over my libido . . . except when it comes to Lee Delgado. She’s trained my cock to sit up on command.
    The waitress is back with my coffee before I’ve even looked at the menu. “Any decisions?” she asks.
    I scan it quickly. “The vegetarian scramble. And keep the coffee coming.”
    She nods as she turns for the kitchen with my order. She’s back a moment later with the pot, which is perfect timing because I’m just draining the bottom of my mug. This is the first passable coffee I’ve had since I landed in Florida. “Your order should be up in just a few minutes.”
    She checks on the other two tables and has a short conversation with a man at the one closest to the door before heading back to Lee. Lee’s already talking as the woman slides into the seat next to her. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but the smoky timbre of her voice is another thing that has always made my dick stand up and take notice. I can’t be within eye or earshot of this woman and stand a chance. Lee shuffles through the stack