Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I realize I’m gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn my knuckles stark white. I force myself back to the present, where she’s neatly stacking the finished reports.
“We can push the vendor call to tomorrow if you need time to review the notes,” she says. Her tone is neutral, but the set of her mouth is not.
“No, let’s do it now,” I say, just to prove I’m not totally fucked in the head. Which is a lie. I am one hundred percent fucked in the head.
She gives me the number and I punch it in. The call goes smoothly since she fields most of the questions, making the vendor rep squirm with the same polite aggression I once saw a sergeant use on a raw recruit. I don’t remember a word of it. I’m just staring at the way her throat moves when she talks and the faint shimmer of sweat on her collarbone.
As the call concludes, she rises gracefully and extends her arm toward the top shelf of the credenza, her movements fluid and precise. Her blouse shifts slightly, offering a brief glimpse of her pale, delicate skin and the elegant contour of her waist. The sight is so captivating that I find myself almost involuntarily reaching out, tempted to trace the gentle curve with my fingertips. To restrain myself, I press my hands firmly against my thighs, anchoring them in place.
To cool my jets, I grab my water bottle and drain it in two gulps. Still hot and thirsty for her.
She sits back down and starts organizing the next set of files. There’s a sticky note on one that says, “Needs boss approval.” She peels it off and sticks it to my shirt pocket.
“You’re the boss,” she says low.
I look down at the note, then up at her. Our faces are close. I can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. I want to slam my mouth against hers, bite her lip until she bleeds, but I don’t. Instead, I take the note and crumple it in my fist.
“Anything else?” I ask, and my voice sounds like gravel in a cement mixer.
She smiles, small and sharp. “That covers the first review.”
“Fine. Take a break,” I say, and she rises, gliding out with the same goddamn perfect posture.
The door closes and I let out the breath I’ve been holding since she walked in. My cock is still hard. I haven’t ever been this worked up.
I curse under my breath, shove the files into a neat pile, and call the next meeting early, just so I can stop thinking about her. It doesn’t work. Every second she’s not in the room, I’m counting down until she’s back.
Mid-afternoon, there’s a budget review with HR and IT. The HR guy drones on for a while, but I can’t focus. Natalie’s sitting across from me this time, taking notes. Her perfume smells a little different. Now, it’s more musky, almost spicy. I picture licking it off her neck. I can already imagine what her skin will taste like. Fuck. I wonder if she’d let me bend her over this very table.
My eyes flicker to her hands again, tapping out notes on her tablet, her nails short and practical. I think about how those hands would feel on my thighs, nails digging in, scraping marks down my back. These inconvenient motherfucking fantasies won’t let up.
At one point, she looks up and catches me staring again. Her eyes go wide for a second, then she looks down, and I swear her cheeks flush just a little. It’s enough to break my composure.
I interrupt the HR guy mid-sentence. “Unless there’s something you need urgently, I think this can wait until next week.”
He glances at Natalie like she’s going to overrule me. She just nods, stone-faced, and says, “We’ll reschedule.”
The meeting adjourns. The room empties. Quiet. Natalie finishes tapping her notes, stands, and gathers her things. She’s halfway to the door before I say, “Hold up.”
She turns, closes the door quietly behind her, and stands with her back to it, folder clutched to her chest as if it might stop a bullet.
I want to fuck her against that goddamn door, but what comes out is, “You don’t hesitate much, do you?”
She weighs this before responding, “I prep. I don’t like surprises.”
I step closer. “Good.” I never liked surprises much either until Natalie walked in the door and turned my life upside down and inside out.
CHAPTER 4
DECLAN
It’s Friday and I’m losing my goddamn mind.
Here I am, mid-afternoon in the fucking conference room, actively hallucinating about what it would feel like to shove my cock deep in my PA’s sweet, little pussy.
She’s wearing this soft blue blouse today, tucked into a skirt that rides just this side of acceptable for professional settings. Every time she bends to pick up a paper or reaches for her phone, I have to dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from reaching for her. She never breaks character, never lets the mask slip, but I see the way her pupils dilate, the flush under her skin when we lock eyes. I see the way she avoids sitting directly next to me unless it’s necessary.