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That’s all.
    His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh knock on the door.
    “What?” he growled.
    “Don’t give me that, asshole,” Cass’ eyes were shooting fire as she shut the door behind her and stood in front of his desk with her hands on her hips.
    “What did I do now?”
    “You. What the fuck did you say to Phil? That conversation was between us, and now he basically threw this project at me, and…shit. Maddox, I have to work with him. Closely. He’s my boss!”
    “He’s being an ass, I take it?” Maddox said lightly, standing up and walking off his frustration.
    “Damn straight, and that’s on you!”
    “He’ll calm down. He’s just pissed, because I called him out on his bullshit.”
    “Mad, I need to be able to tell you things, to vent. I don’t need you running off making things worse for me,” she plopped down on his couch, laying on her side, looking up at him with those brown doe-eyes.
    Fucking doe eyes.
    He sat down next to her, pulling her over so her head rested on his thigh. As soon as he touched her, tension eased off of him, and his body relaxed. “I didn’t tell him you said anything,” he said, running his fingers along her arms.
    “You didn’t?” she asked.
    “No. I told him to give you the web redesign, and he pulled his fucking control freak bullshit.”
    Cass laughed. “Finally seeing it?”
    “Yeah, thanks for that.”
    She weaved her fingers through his, settling their joined hands on her stomach.
    “Thanks for the project,” she smiled.
    “You’ll be great,” he smiled back.
    “Of course I will.”
    “Such modesty.”
    “I learned from the best,” she laughed, mischief sparkling in her eyes.
    He couldn’t hold back his own chuckle. “Yes, I’m a bad influence.”
    “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

    * * *
    “ N etflix sucks ,” he mumbled to himself that night, as it seemed nothing was going to hold his interest. He tried everything to get his mind off of work, of Cass, of his ridiculous bout of celibacy. He’d gone for a run, showered, jerked off, showered again, and settled in for a movie when he couldn’t find a thing to watch.
    He grabbed his phone.
    Whatcha doing? He texted.
    C: Reading Book 2 about the fuzzy praying mantis. You?
    M: Fucking bored.
    C: Watch a movie.
    M: There isn’t shit to watch.
    C: Go for a run.
    M: Been there. Done that.
    C: Everything else I’ve got is highly inappropriate.
    M: Been there. Done that.
    C: Ew. Didn’t need to know that. What you do when you’re alone should be between you and your hand. Leave me out of it.
    M: Who said it was my hand?
    C: Shit, Mad. Stop that. Are you not alone? Why the hell are you texting me?
    M: I’m alone. Okay, it was my hand.
    C: Left or right.
    M: Why?
    C: I need to know which one never to touch again.
    M: Not fair. It would get lonely.
    There was a long pause. Had he pushed her too far?
    C: Is your dick not enough? I mean, maybe this explains why you’re so bad at getting some.
    Oh, no she didn’t.
    M: Maybe my dick is just too much to handle.
    C: As all men think. Have yet to meet one I can’t handle.
    M: I’m not most men.
    C: Again…most men…
    M: My heart. Stabbing pain. How can you say such hurtful things.
    C: Oh, poor dear. I crushed your fragile ego. I must make amends…
    M: On your knees?
    Long pause. Dammit. Shit. That was too far. He hadn’t meant…
    C: You wish.
    He let loose the breath he’d been holding.
    M: Oh, I do think you owe me. My ego is feeling thoroughly stomped on. I think this one means popcorn and Rodrigo Santoro.
    He could practically hear her groan. They loved a lot of the same movies, but Rodrigo’s movies were bloody and violent with almost no storyline. Just a lot of blood and gore, which annoyed Cass. She didn’t mind the violence, but preferred a story. He thought a man with guns for hands and razor blade teeth functioned perfectly well as a storyline.
    C: Sigh. Okay.
    M: Really? Really?
    C: Well, I did insult your penis.