by Mia Madison
“Fuck,” I groaned.
I could feel the pressure building on the base of my spine as I got close to climax and the images began to waver, becoming blurry pictures of things that never happened.
Kayla’s skirt pushed up over her hips, bent over my desk.
Kayla’s heels digging into my back as I pounded into her.
Kayla’s pink lips wrapped around my cock.
What pushed me over the edge was the thought of her on her knees right now, in this shower. The kicker was that it could happen.
She’s coming.
With a deep grunt, so did I. I kept stroking until I unloaded everything I possibly could, splattering the tiles of my shower walls with cum for what felt like the thousandth time in the past two years.
I hadn’t taken a woman since I met her. I never meant to do it—I’d been bogged down with work for those first few months regardless—but once things started to slow down, I was too obsessed with my new assistant to bother with anyone else.
Instead, I watched her. I watched and waited and desperately clung to the notion that she wanted me back. The obsession grew, driving me insane with want.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d been toying with the idea of making a move for a while, but every time an opportunity arose, I couldn’t get past that disgusting feeling lurking in the pit of my stomach.
The feeling that warned me I was dangerously close to turning into my father.
Just like that, the post-orgasm haze faded, and I was left with the sinking feeling that this was a bad idea. I still had time to change my mind—I could always take the files and dismiss her—but did I really want to?
What was worse—the feeling of becoming my father or this insane need to possess her? The more I was around her, the less interested in other women I became. How the hell could I move on?
Firing her would be such a waste, not to mention it’d make me the coward of the fucking century.
No, this was the only way. I’d continue with my plan as slowly as I possibly could, hoping she would see me as a normal man for a brief while instead of just her boss. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel like I was trying to use my position of power to coerce her into sleeping with me.
I wanted so much more than that. I wanted everything when it came to her.
I just needed her to want it in return.
I spent most of the time after my shower pacing around the living room, my gaze moving between the window and the clock. Once two hours had passed, I forced myself to leave my post and enter the kitchen, feigning a casual appearance while I began cooking an early dinner.
Before she passed away, my mother taught me how to cook. My father hated it—cooking was for women, after all—but he was late at work often enough that making dinner together became our secret bonding time.
As a teenager, I continued to cook and bake just to feel close to her. I’d work from recipes instead of her memory, but I swore there were times I could sense her presence with me in the kitchen long after she was gone.
Eventually, nostalgia gave way to real passion. I enjoyed cooking far more than anyone else I knew, mainly because it relaxed me.
Cooking and sex were the two sole instances in my life that I didn’t think about work or my father.
Even my dreams were plagued by one of the two. Sometimes both, but those were more like nightmares.
I lost myself in the process of cooking, so absorbed that I didn’t pay attention to the time. When there was a hesitant knock on the front door of the cabin, I jolted in surprise.
I wanted to blame my sweaty palms on the heat in the kitchen, but that’d make me a liar. Another knock sounded—louder this time—and I pulled together my composure, taking a deep breath before making my way to the door.
I unlatched the lock and pulled it open, smiling as I took in her puffy winter coat and pink cheeks.
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside so she could pass by.
She muttered her thanks and came inside. I took a step out, glancing at her car before looking up at the telltale tint of the sky that gave away the looming snowfall. I closed the front door with a sense of finality, flipping the lock back into place.
Neither of us would be leaving this cabin anytime soon.
Kayla
“What in the world?” I muttered to myself as I tried to spot the supposed location of the driveway amongst the trees and snow. “Did he send the wrong address?”
I turned around for the second time at the same pull off. The car that had been following me blared his horn as he passed. I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to flip him the bird. After he was gone and I checked to make sure no one else was coming, I spun the car around and crept down the road.
This time, I managed to spot the entrance. Or, to be more precise, a set of tire tracks that were covered with a light layer of snow. The GPS told me to turn for the third time, so I flipped the signal and eased into the driveway.
I sat up higher in my seat, following the tire tracks while praying that I wouldn’t end up driving onto a frozen lake or something equally ominous.
My fear was short-lived. In less than half a mile, a small cabin came into view. There were no cars parked around it, but the smoke coming from the chimney made it obvious that it was being used.
At the same time, I was more nervous than ever. The cabin appeared to be very simplistic. Definitely not something I expected my extraordinarily wealthy boss to own. What if I knocked on the door and a crazy, sex-starved mountain man answered?
Weirdly enough, my mind conjured up a mental image of a shirtless Mr. Reynolds with a beard and an axe slung over his shoulder.
I’d be okay with that.
Realizing I was being ridiculous, I put the car in park and turned it off. I got out and cursed when a blast of frigid wind slammed into me. I’d only driven three hours north, but it felt like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. It was freezing.
I rushed to grab my purse and the bag containing Mr. Reynolds’s files, hoping he’d invite me in so I could use the restroom before I made the long drive back.
When I got to the porch, I faltered again, praying for Mr. Reynolds to be the one to answer. There was no doorbell, so I knocked softly on the solid wood of the door. I waited a beat for someone to answer, taking a deep breath for courage before knocking a little harder.
A few seconds later, the door swung open and Mr. Reynolds stood there, staring at me with a small smile for what felt like a full minute before he stepped back and said, “Come in.”
I slid past him and glanced around the cabin for a brief moment, turning back just in time to see him step outside and look up at the sky. Weird.
The odd moment didn’t last long. He was soon stepping back and closing the door, locking it behind him before silently watching as I wrestled my winter coat off.
“Make yourself at home.”
I froze. Not because of the sarcastic remark—quite the opposite. It was the kind of dry comment I’d grown to expect from him, only this time, it lacked any bite. It sounded almost… playful.
So weird.
“I won’t stay long,” I assured him as I placed the coat on the back of his couch. “I just really need to use the restroom and this coat doesn’t leave much room for movement.”
I laughed softly, the sound cutting out when I turned back and saw Mr. Reynolds frowning. It took only a moment for the reason behind his expression to click in my mind and I rushed to open the bag and pull out the files he had requested.
“Here you go. This is every file I had at home—both for the projects you requested and a few others just in case you wanted them. I know you didn’t ask for them all, but I—”
“You can’t leave yet.”
He didn’t make a move to reach for the files, so they remained in the air between us as I tried to figure out what he meant.
“I… Why not?”
A hand came out, gesturing to an open doorway behind him.
“I’m ma
king dinner.”
That explained why the cabin smelled so wonderful. While I was a little dumbstruck that Mr. Reynolds could cook, the logical part of me remembered that I already made dinner plans.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Reynolds. My roommate is waiting for me to get back so we can go out with her parents. They’re in town for the holiday.”
“Oh,” he said, his forehead crinkling further as his frown deepened.
It was then that I noticed the spatula in his hand and guilt started to gnaw at my stomach.
“The bathroom is through there,” he said abruptly, gesturing to a closed door. “I have to check the oven.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left me alone, the files still clasped between my fingers.
What the hell is going on?
The urge to pee was stronger than my curiosity. I opened the door and paused for a split second to take in the sight of the cozy-looking bed—Mr. Reynolds’s bed—before dashing to the other closed door in the room.
The cabin might have looked simple from the outside, but the master bath was the most decadent bathroom I’d ever been in. I eyed the huge tub with envy as I voided my bladder, somehow knowing from just a glance that two people would fit perfectly in the tub at the same time.
Two people like me and my boss.
Bad Kayla.
Much as I wanted to chide myself for thinking of him like that, I couldn’t help it. I’d never seen him in anything except a perfectly tailored suit, and while those made him look handsome and authoritative and larger-than-life, seeing him in jeans and a plain t-shirt made him seem… human.
Attainable.
It was a dangerous thought. If I lingered here too long, I knew it’d take root in my brain and I’d never be able to dislodge it.
My attraction to him was already ridiculous enough. I couldn’t allow it to get any worse.
I washed my hands and stared at my reflection, giving myself the sternest look I could muster as I whispered, “Give him the files and walk away. For your own good.”
With a firm nod at myself, I twisted the doorknob.
And let out the most embarrassing sound I’d ever made when I came face-to-face with Mr. Reynolds.
Adam
Kayla let out an ear-piercing noise somewhere between a scream and a yelp when she opened the door and saw me standing there. I clenched my teeth, mentally cursing my terrible timing. Before I could even begin to apologize, Kayla reached up and smacked me hard on the chest.
“How long were you standing there?!” she shrieked, her normally pleasant voice becoming a high-pitched screech.
“Less than ten seconds,” I told her honestly, my tension easing when I saw her shoulders slump with relief. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I literally just walked in.”
“It’s—It’s fine. Jesus. For a second I thought—”
“That I was a pervert who got off on listening to women using the restroom?” I dryly finished, rolling my eyes at her sheepish shrug. “Please. My tastes are far more simple than that.”
As you’ll soon find out.
“Dinner is almost ready.”
Kayla opened her mouth and closed it just as fast, frowning up at me. I cut her off before she could voice an argument.
“I made it to thank you. For coming all the way out here.”
“Oh.”
I could tell by her expression that I shocked her. I could also see the internal debate she was having with herself over whether to keep her plans or stay with me. Her hesitation was enough to give me hope.
“Thank you,” she said earnestly, searching my face for something—I had no idea what. After a long moment, she gave me a little smile and said, “I guess I can stay for a little while. I’m sure they won’t mind pushing our dinner back to tomorrow. Just let me give her a call.”
I forced a smile and gestured for her to exit the room first, swallowing back the pangs of guilt as we walked. She fought to get her coat back on before stepping onto the porch for some privacy to make her phone call while I went back to finish the little cooking that remained.
She agreed to stay. Now all I needed to do was keep her entertained until the snow started to fall.
Judging by the color of the sky, I doubted it would take very long.
In order to keep us eating as long as possible, I might have gone a little too far while preparing the meal.
Kayla’s eyes were wide as she sat at the dinner table and watched me load it with enough to feed a family of six.
“Wow. How much can you eat?”
“I guess you’ll find out,” I joked, letting my gaze linger on her a little longer than was wise. When her eyes fluttered up to meet mine, I looked away and said, “The leftovers will keep me from having to cook for a few days.”
“That’s smart. My roommate was into that thing where you make your meals for the week on Sunday and freeze them for a little while. She gave up on it though.”
“Why?”
A fond smile appeared as she explained, “She kept changing her mind and wanting stuff that she didn’t have made, so I ended up eating her meals. It worked out great for me, but it was kind of a waste of time on her end.”
“Ah. That type of program requires dedication.”
I didn’t mean the comment offensively, but her scoff made it clear that I miss-stepped.
“Marcy’s dedicated. To some things,” she added as an afterthought before shaking her head. “But she’s also spontaneous. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that there was. It was just an observation—there’s no need to be offended on your friend’s behalf.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She got quiet, and during my trip back to the table with the final dish, I noticed she was clasping her hands together in her lap. Clearly we weren’t off to the smoothest start, but I wasn’t going to give up easily.
“Kayla.”
“Yes?”
“Relax. We’re not at work. There’s no need for you to be so tense.”
She wasn’t convinced, but she gifted me with a small smile at the very least. I returned it with ease, pondering what I could say or do to make her feel more comfortable.
Meanwhile, I was internally panicking that I misread something. If she was this nervous, maybe she really did only see me as a boss. Maybe I’d never move out of that position in her eyes. Maybe she’d end up stuck here for the next two weeks looking at me like I was a pervert.
If she looked at me the way I look at my father, it would kill me.
Kayla let out a heavy sigh and the sound ripped me from my negative thoughts. I took a seat across from her, watching the emotions flicker across her face.
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“Why?”
“You’re my boss,” she said plainly, as if the answer was obvious.
“You’re never this tense at work and I’m your boss there as well.”
“Yeah, but I know my place there. This feels… different. I don’t know why.”
I leaned on the table, gesturing for her to do the same. I kept the serious expression on my face as I asked, “Do you want me to put on a suit?”
It had the desired effect. Kayla’s lovely laughter filled the quiet room and I chuckled at the sight of her amusement.
It might take a while, but I had no doubt in my mind that she would be able to relax with me. I only needed to exercise my patience. Considering I’d already been waiting two years, a few extra days wouldn’t kill me.
“God, I really needed that laugh,” she said breathlessly after she finally calmed down. “The drive here was pretty rough.”
“Oh?” Another fresh pang of guilt. “How so?”
“Between the snow and not really knowing where I was going, it was just kind of exhausting.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say I had a perfectly good bed she could rest in—provided I could rest beside her—but I held myself back. Not yet.
&n
bsp; “Do you like snow?”
“To look at? Yes. To drive in? Absolutely not. I’ve never been able to get used to it.”
“Well, I truly appreciate you coming out here.”
She smiled. “It’s no trouble. I left the files you asked for on the coffee table.” She paused, hesitating a little before she asked, “Do you really plan to work on your vacation? From what I heard in the office, I thought you were coming out here to get away from work.”
Something in me desperately wanted to tell her that I had no intention of working—that the entire thing was a ruse to get her here—but a larger part of me was terrified she wouldn’t stay if she knew the truth. That fear drove me to the decision to pretend like this entire thing happened by chance.
Which unfortunately meant that I would have to work at some point during our stay at the cabin. For the sake of the grand scheme of things.
“It’s a working vacation for me, as they all tend to be,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t intend to waste all my time off on it, though.”
“That’s good to hear. I imagine you could use a break more than anyone else.”
“You might be right,” I muttered before gesturing at the food. “Help yourself. Seriously—don’t hold back.”
Kayla laughed again as she reached for the potatoes and I felt a genuine smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.
In a moment of perfect clarity, I realized something I’d always suspected but never had been sure of.
She can make me happy.
Kayla
Mr. Reynolds was one hell of a cook. I was floored by how delicious everything tasted. It would be impolite if I didn’t make sure to tell him as much.
“Mr. Reynolds, this is—”
“Adam.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My name is Adam. I don’t think we need formalities here, Kayla.”
It’s not that I never heard him use my first name before, but I’d certainly never heard it in the teasing tone he used now. It made heat rise to my face.