Mentally counting to ten, she blew out a breath and bent again. The fabric of her skirt stretched once more, but she ignored it for the moment and wormed her fingers into the dark cranny, feeling for bits of paper. After her grasp slipped twice and she only came away with a one inch by one inch scrap of document, she growled. "That's it, buster. You're going down."
She had no idea how she was going to take down a six-hundred-pound copying machine. But with the mood she was in, she knew she could manage it somehow.
"Who's going down?"
Yelping when the voice came from behind her, Sophie jerked upright, smacking her head on the back of an infeed tray. She whirled around to find Reed standing in the doorway, a thick pile of papers in hand. He'd been looking down, most likely at her rear, but he zipped his gaze up guiltily as she glared at him.
She was tempted to snap, "You are," for turning her down last night and then ogling her now. But then she reminded herself he had every right to say no to her offer. And he was merely being a normal, red-blooded, heterosexual male for checking her out. She had to admit she liked that he found her attractive. But still. It stung that he wasn't interested in her personality.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she lifted her hand to the back of her noggin, thankful it still hurt from smacking into the copying machine's tray. At least she could blame her wet eyes on physical pain.
"This thing," she muttered, motioning to the machine.
"Are you okay?" he asked, coming forward and setting his papers-to-be-copied on a nearby table so he could reach for her. "Let me see." His voice was soft and concerned.
Sophia only wanted to bawl harder because he had to be so freaking nice, a quality that was the exact opposite of every loser she'd dated lately.
"It's nothing," she mumbled, but she let him let him sink his hands into her hair and under her messy bun to feel the back of her head. Lips parting as he smoothed his fingers along her scalp, she lifted her face and looked up at him.
When he reached a tender spot, she sucked in a breath and unconsciously grabbed his wrist. He winced and met her gaze. "You have a bump."
"Oh." She had nothing else left in her vocabulary to add, so she merely stared into his light grey eyes that looked more silver under these fluorescent lights.
His touch slowed to a stop but he continued to leave his hand buried deep in her hair. Their faces remained less than a foot apart. He licked his lips, and her tummy went all fluttery. She could read the desire in his silver depths. He wanted to kiss her.
She wanted it too. Her chin seemed to tilt up on its own accord, aligning their mouths perfectly. All he needed to do was close the eight inches separating them and seal his lips to hers. When he swayed forward a breath, she swallowed, anticipating his touch, his flavor.