by Goode, Ella
“Never been my thing. It’s only me, and I tend to get home late most nights.” He starts to fill his own plate. “You don’t get to cook where you’re staying.”
“I live on vending machine food,” I tease, but it’s not really a joke.
“Are you serious?” He sees right through me, making me wonder what else he can freaking see. I just shrug. “You should stay here.” I almost choke on the French fries I’m shoving into my mouth like a starved person. He hands me my water to take a drink.
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head. “And confusing.”
“It makes sense. I have all this room. I can easily take you back and forth to work. That’s logical, not crazy.”
“Two problems there.” I hold up my fingers. “You have a girlfriend, and did you forget you don’t like the look of me?”
A sheepish look crosses his face. “She’s a friend. We went to college together.”
“Oh. That kind of friend?”
“What does that mean?” His eyebrows pull together. Oh my God. He looks adorable when he’s confused. I’m guessing that doesn’t happen much.
“A friend with benefits.” He is still not putting it together. “You sleep together but no messy strings.”
“She’s not my type, and I most certainly am not her type. It's one of the reasons we get along so well. She’s not trying to get her claws into me.” He has no reason to lie, and well, I really shouldn't care if he has a girlfriend or not. I should hope he does so I could ruin their relationship. Still, the irritation I was feeling melts away.
“You’re everyone's type.” I stab a piece of sweet and sour chicken with my fork.
“Is that so?” A cocky grin lights up his face. I roll my eyes and swallow my food.
“You know you are. You just said women are trying to get their claws into you.”
“You’re not.” He picks up a piece of the chicken with chopsticks and brings it to my mouth. I open and take it, fighting the warm feeling around my heart. If he only knew that I’m trying to do far worse than get my claws into him. “So you’ll stay.”
I should be jumping at this opportunity. If Chris knew I turned this down, he'd lose his shit. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. He’s doing something to me, and I need to keep some space between us. Problem is what I need to get done would be better with no space. He stares at me, waiting for an answer.
“I don’t like the look of you because you’re distracting.” I open my mouth and then close it. “I don’t care for distractions. Or I didn’t before you.” There’s that dangerous, warm feeling again. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I know it’s Chris, so I ignore it.
“Okay,” I agree.
This is either my best move or my worst. Only time will tell.
Chapter Ten
Warren
“Whoever made up work from home should be brought to the town square and be stoned,” I growl into the computer microphone.
“We don’t have town squares,” chirps Connor. He has a shirt and tie on, but I can only see his shoulders, so I bet he is wearing sweatpants. My assistant has never been happier.
“Then let’s bring them back.” I’m putting him in the center too for being so fucking cheerful.
“You were the one who sent us all home,” he reminds me.
“You sound like you want to be fired.”
He whips two fingers across his lips in a zipping motion. Mmop me, he mouths with his lips firmly shut.
“Yeah, you.” It was my idea, and at first blush, it seemed genius. I remove Leila from a zone of danger and place her under my personal dome of security, also known as my house. Here, I would be able to spend time with her uninterrupted. This is ultimately the biggest problem.
She’s distracting. I can’t get anything done because I’m thinking about whether she’s feeling warm or not hot enough, whether she’s hungry or I should make a food run, whether she’s sucking on the end of her pen because it’s a habit or she’s fantasizing about her mouth around my dick.
It’s probably a habit but fuck, her lips would look pretty stretched over my cock with her tits out and her hand buried between her legs. I wonder how long it would take to get her to come. Does she heat up fast or does it take some time to stoke her fires? I’m happy either way.
“Was there something you needed?” Connor prompts.
I start at the sound of his voice. I’d completely forgotten I was on the phone with my assistant. “Sorry. Got distracted there for a moment. Look, we need to wrap up the loose ends on the Mason business. From my review, it appears there are some outstanding liabilities and that there might even be additional ownership issues we need to clear up before we can fix that project. One of the lease agreements identifies an heir. Let’s track him down, pay him off, and move on.”
“On it.”
“Send over the Le Monde portfolio too.”
“I didn’t realize you were ready for that.”
Across the room, Leila’s head remains buried in the contracts I gave to her. I pulled her resume to see what we’d hired her to do, and she has a finance degree from Yale. And we had her copying shit. What a waste.
“I’m going to have Leila work on it.”
“The temp?” Connor’s shocked.
“She has a finance degree. Why not?”
“That’s right. Also a champion chess player. She kind of reminds me of the girl in The Queen’s Gambit.”
I run my eyes over Leila’s blond hair and Cupid’s bow mouth. There’s a resemblance, I guess, but Leila’s a hundred times hotter. It makes me mad how turned on I am by her. I’m going to have to fuck her. That’s the only solution. If I don’t, the inferno building inside me is going to explode.
“You should stop thinking about Leila,” I instruct in a low, angry voice.
Connor sucks in a breath. “It’s like that?”
“Yeah. It’s fucking like that.” I disconnect the call and glare moodily across the room.
“I feel your eyes boring a hole in the top of my head. Did I copy something wrong? Is your assistant tattling on me?”
She’s got a sharp mouth on her, and it only serves to intensify the ache in my groin. “No,” I reply curtly.
She peeks up through a veil of lashes. “Do you hate your job? Every time you talk about work, you seem mad.”
“I love my work.”
“You love it so much you’re about to break your pen in half and it’s plastic, not wood.”
I look down at the writing utensil I’ve gripped between my fingers. The pressure is so fierce that my thumbs are white. I hadn’t even realized it. I toss the pen aside. “Are you a temp because you can’t keep a job with that smart mouth of yours or for some other reason?”
“Maybe someone slashed your tires because they think you’re a bad boss for harassing them at work?” she fires back.
“Sounds like that’s a yes, you were fired because of your back chat. Maybe we should bring back corporal punishment. A few whacks, and you wouldn’t be so chatty.”
“What is your obsession with spanking?”
The words come out of her mouth before she realizes I never mentioned her ass needed to be the body part that should be smacked. She jumps to her feet. “I hear—I gotta—”
I leap out of my chair and am across the room before she can escape. I grab her wrist in one motion, slam the door shut in another, and swing her back to the wall. Her eyes are huge, and her breath is coming out in short, hot pants. I slam my hands on either side of her head and cage her in.
“If you wanted me to paddle you until you can’t walk, you should have said something, sweetheart. I am here for you one hundred percent.”
“I never said that,” she squeaks.
“You must’ve been thinking about it.” I lean in close. “Why else would that pop out? Is that why you’re a mouthy brat? Because you want me to discipline you?” I drop a hand to her hip. She quivers under my touch. I can practically smell her desire. “Does it
get you wet to think about being draped over my lap while your thighs grow red from my hand?”
“Where else would you whack someone? On their toes? Of course, it would be the butt. It’s a natural conclusion.” She tries to argue, but her cheeks are rosy and her chest is heaving.
“I agree that this is all very natural.” I wrench off my tie and capture one of her wrists in the silk and then the other. “To show you what a good boss I am, I’ll give you a taste of what you’re so clearly begging for.”
Chapter Eleven
Leila
What the hell is happening here? Furthermore, why am I not trying to stop him? Even as he wraps his tie around my wrists, I don’t try to resist but willingly let him. My whole body is on fire with need. I should detest this man. He’s the enemy. I had nothing, and still he’s taken more from me.
He pulls on the tie, bringing me forward. In one quick move, he spins me around and pushes everything off the desk. Papers and folders go flying as he bends me over the side of it. None of this should be turning me on but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t. Actually I believe I’m way beyond that at this point.
“Warren.” I say his name.
“Yes, sweetheart?” His hand runs down the curve of my ass. He takes his time like he’s memorizing the feel of me under his hand.
“Stop calling me that.” It’s not that I don’t enjoy hearing him call me that but that it does weird shit to my insides. He can’t have a pet name for me. That’s going too far, crossing lines I’m trying to put up to keep him at a distance. Yet he continues to step right over them with all his lingering touches.
“You give a lot of orders for a girl bent over my desk.”
I moan when I feel his cock press into my ass. His hand slips around to go under my shirt. His fingers trail across my stomach until he reaches the button on my slacks. He tugs, popping the button loose before shoving my pants down my legs.
“Is this what you had in mind? When you kept running your mouth?” This time when he runs his hand down my stomach, he keeps going all the way down to between my thighs.
I bite the inside of my cheek when I hear him let out a low curse under his breath. I close my eyes. I’m not sure if it’s shame or shyness, but there is no denying now that I am turned on. My wet panties are all the evidence that he needed.
“Answer me,” he demands.
“Go to hell.” I let out a small scream when his hand comes down onto my ass. The shock of pain hits me, somehow traveling straight to my clit. I try to press my thighs together, but he catches me. He uses his foot to spread my feet wider apart.
“Do you want to try that again?” he asks, his hand rubbing the spot he smacked. I don’t say a word. Not even to tell him to stop. “Okay then.” He yanks my panties down next, dragging them halfway down my thighs. His hand comes down on me again, this time on my bare ass.
The sound of the smack hitting my skin is as erotic as the feel of his hand on me. He rubs again. When he pulls his hand back, I know he’s going to spank me again and again until I answer him. The throb between my legs continues to grow with no relief in sight. Even my breasts are starting to ache. I need release, but how much am I willing to give up to get it?
“I don’t know why I do it,” I blurt out. It’s the truth. I’ve never worked in an office, but at the diner I would never have talked to the manager—let alone the owner—the way I speak to him. I shouldn’t be doing it now. I can’t lose this job. That would mean I failed. But still I push and push as if I’m a child pressing the boundaries to see what I can get away with.
“See. Was that so hard?” His hand runs back down between my thighs, but he only cups my sex. I shamelessly try and press down on his hand, needing more. I cry out when he removes his hand, but a moment later it’s coming back down onto my sex.
I gasp. All the air leaves my lungs. He did not just spank me there! My legs start to tremble. I’m not sure how much more I can take. I want to push up off the desk and attack him. Demand that he finish what he started.
“If there is something you need, all you have to do is ask for it, sweetheart. We don’t just take things.” He cups my sex again. I’m so turned on that I can feel my own arousal coating the insides of my thighs.
“Please,” I breathe out. “Warren.” I open my eyes and look back at him. Everything inside of me stills for a moment when my eyes meet his. The desire and need on his face for me brings out a longing deep inside of me. Emotions that I try to keep shoved down as far as I can.
“That’s all you had to do. I’ll always give you what you ask for.” His fingers find my clit before I can open my mouth and be a smartass once again. I’m already too primed that it doesn't take much. The pressure alone is almost enough to send me over the edge.
I cry out his name as the orgasm takes over. It feels as though it’s a wave crashing down on me, and I can’t catch my breath. It keeps going, taking me under, the pleasure and bliss consuming me. It’s been too long since I’ve experienced any of those things. A tear escapes from me.
My legs start to buckle, but I don’t hit the ground. Warren moves me. I feel the panties slide back up my legs as he releases the tie from my wrists. He lifts me easily into his arms.
I slowly open my eyes after a long moment. My head is resting on his shoulder, his fingers trailing gently up and down my arms.
He hasn’t tried to do anything else. I’ve been bent over the desk, bound and more turned on than I have ever been in my life. Hell, more than I thought was humanly possible. I likely would have let him do anything. I lift my head, my eyes meeting his.
What the hell have I done now? There is no going back. I’ve crossed the point of no return.
Chapter Twelve
Warren
“The paperwork for the Park Hill deal is almost done, and I’ll have it delivered to you this afternoon. We have some hits on the black SUV that we’re running down. The police aren’t much help, but the guy who owns the tech company on the top floor, Maxim somebody, is working on some kind of character recognition thing. I don't really understand it, but he thinks that by overlaying photos from the CCTV and comparing the pixelated shapes with the image database we will be able to somehow identify the license plate of the SUV. I don’t think it can be done, but he's pretty confident. That means we should be able to get back into the office sometime next week probably.”
“There’s no rush,” I tell Connor. “We’re not in any hurry.”
“Less than 24 hours ago you were mad that we were working at home and wanted to bring back stoning,” he squawks.
“I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten in a while, and my temper got the better of me. Take your time. Did you get the set I asked for?”
“Yes, it’s on its way.”
“Perfect.” I disconnect the call. I allow myself to run my eyes over Leila once more. I flex my fingers, remembering the soft, hot feel of her. Our encounter yesterday hadn't fulfilled me. If anything, I am more ravenous than I was before, but the little sex play took the edge off. Even though I know I could have taken her, I didn’t. I want her desire to equal mine. I want her need to be relentless so that when I do have her, it will be something that she remembers and wants for the rest of her life.
I’m playing a long game here, denying us something we both want, but it’s the right move. There’s still wariness in her eyes when she looks at me, as well as something darker. I suspect I could spend fifty years exploring her depths and always come away surprised, which is why I am not rushing things. We’re playing here, and the anticipation that builds with each unfulfilled moment that passes will result in something spectacular. I’m looking forward to it, and even if Leila won’t admit it, she’s eager too. This whole morning, she hasn’t been able to sit still, shifting in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. There’s an ache inside of her that she can’t get rid of by herself because I put it there and I’m the only one that can ease that sweet pain. For now, though, I think we need a distraction.
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br /> “Tell me about yourself, Leila. Is your family close?”
Her head swings up sharply. “M-my family?”
“Yes. I know you said your parents have passed away, but do you have aunts or uncles or cousins? Siblings?”
She tosses her pen on the table she’s set up as her workstation on. “What’s the point of this?”
My brows come together. “The point is to get to know you.”
“What about your family? You’ve never talked about them.” Her voice is almost accusatory.
I rub my ear. I guess she’s right. “My parents live most of the year in Miami in a condo that overlooks the ocean. In the summer, it’s too hot so they’ll go to Maine. Although in the past couple of years, Mom has developed this thing for Ireland. She wants to buy a castle there. It’s a big point of conflict for the two of them because my dad says hell no. I’ve got an uncle in New York and an aunt in New Jersey. My cousins are scattered along the East Coast. One of them is on the writing staff for Comic Hour. You heard of that?”
“Yes, actually.”
“You might have heard Bitsy’s jokes then. She’s funny as hell. Let’s see. What else?” I steeple my fingers and tap the tips together. “I’m thirty-four, run Hugo Realty. That’s my pop’s name. He was in residential all of his life and I moved it to commercial. Single. Never been married. Never wanted to be married. No girlfriend although I do have some female friends like Christina, but we’re not a couple and never have been. Just friends. Your turn.”
“You hungry?” she says unexpectedly. She pushes to her feet and walks to the door of my office. “I’m going to make a sandwich. Let me know if you want one.”
I stare at the empty doorway in befuddlement. She does not want to talk about her past. In fact, she’d rather make up a lie about wanting to eat than tell me a personal story. It’s a damned red flag that tells me I should not only kick her out of my house but tell the temp agency to take her back even if it gets me blacklisted. I drop my eyes to my lap where my dick is still semi-hard. Giving her the boot is out of the question, so I guess I’ll have to find the answers to mystery girl’s life on my own.