Teased by the Boss (Tempted Series Book 3)

by Hazel Kelly

  I did very little cooking for myself, but I had the makings of something I thought she would like. I couldn’t even remember when I last used my skillet so I gave it a quick wash and threw a knob of butter into it. Then I put some sliced bread in the toaster and grabbed some cheese and eggs out of the fridge, careful not to slam the door as the noise might echo up into the rafters and disturb her.

  If she got up and came down it would spoil the surprise.

  I tried to make the eggs over easy like the chef in the restaurant did for me. Unfortunately, I broke both of the yolks when I checked to see if they were ready to flip so I scrambled them to cover my tracks. When the toast came out, I buttered it, spread some thin slices of mature cheddar on it, and set it under the oven grill.

  As soon as the cheese started to bubble, I took it out and put it on the plate next to the eggs, poured two chilled glasses of orange juice, and put everything on a tray.

  It was still missing something so I pulled a flower out of the constantly replenished arrangement by the front door, dried it off, and laid it on the tray beside her plate.

  It was a piece of freaking art. I couldn’t remember the last time I was so proud of something. When I started to think about it, I couldn’t recall having cooked anything for anyone in at least five years… Assuming letting a woman eat off me didn’t count.

  Anyway, it was a good thing I took a moment to admire what I did because it gave me time to realize I hadn’t turned the stove off. Tripping the fire alarm would’ve made my tiptoeing around a huge waste of time.

  I moved carefully upstairs with the tray, eyeing the orange juice and furrowing my brow the whole time. Then I set it down on my desk and walked over to Ella’s side of the bed.

  She rolled towards me when I sat down without opening her eyes, her lips forming a lazy smile. “Something smells good.”

  I dragged my fingertips along her cheekbone. “How did you sleep?”

  She opened her eyes and peeked at me while she let out a big sigh. “Too good.”

  I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She tilted her head up and gave me a gentle, closed mouth kiss. Her fat lips pressed together were so soft it was like kissing a tiny pillow.

  I went to the desk to get the tray and when I turned around, she was sitting up. As she stretched her arms over her head, the sheet fell down, exposing her perky breasts.

  “Whoops,” she said, pulling the blanket back up and tucking it under her armpits.

  “If I’d known it was going to be that easy, I wouldn’t have bothered making you breakfast.”

  She tilted her head. “You made me breakfast?”

  “It’s not much,” I said, walking towards her.

  She scooted back against the headboard.

  I set the tray down on her lap and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Only your favorite thing I hope.”

  Her face lifted. “Cheese on toast!”

  “Mature cheddar cheese on toast.”

  “My apologies. I didn’t mean to imply you would feed me any old cheese.”

  “And eggs. Cooked by yours truly.”

  “I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, her eyes scanning the plate like it was covered in chocolate truffles.

  “Let’s not get carried away.” I lifted one of the glasses of juice and took a sip. “I just figured last night worked up a bit of an appetite.”

  “It sure did.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. She was still wearing the earrings. “Last night was amazing, and this-” She gestured towards the tray. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I know. That’s what made it fun.”

  Her eyebrows came together. “Is this a flower from the vase by the door?”

  “I wouldn’t eat it if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “No one’s ever made me breakfast in bed.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Maybe my Mom if I was sick, but crackers and Sprite in bed is hardly the lap of luxury.” She lifted her orange juice. “But this- I mean- if I had sheets like this I’d never eat in bed.”

  “They’re the only set of their kind in the world actually.”

  She froze with the tilted glass of juice just an inch from her mouth.

  “I’m joking. They’re completely replaceable.”

  Her shoulders dropped as she exhaled.

  “They’re the same kind as they have in the honeymoon suite. Not that you really got to test them out.”

  “One of my many regrets about what happened in there.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Not.”

  “How is the cheese on toast?” I asked. “Considering you’re an expert.”

  She gathered the fingertips of her free hand together and kissed them all at once like an Italian chef cartoon. “Perfection!”

  “Oh good.”

  She used her fork to pack a folded piece of toast with scrambled eggs until it looked like a little breakfast taco. “Will?” Her eyes flitted up from her plate. She looked so innocent when she wasn’t all done up. Though I knew better at that point.

  “Yes?”

  “What are we doing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what is this? What are we doing here? With each other?”

  “I thought that was obvious. We’re having a good time.”

  She nodded and chewed. “Just having a good time?”

  “Do you disagree?”

  “No.” She took a sip of juice. “I just- I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?”

  “Is that it? Really?” Her attempt at sounding casual was failing miserably.

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Do you ever feel like maybe it’s more than that?”

  “More than having a good time?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Like having a great time?”

  She pushed my shoulder playfully, but I didn’t budge.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not like I’m a relationship expert or anything, but first you buy me jewelry and then you make me breakfast in bed. It just feels like-”

  “Like what?”

  “Like more than a one night stand.”

  I laughed. “Well by definition this isn’t a one night stand.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I feared I did, but I didn’t want to encourage her. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Well you must care about me.” Her eyes dropped from mine for a moment. “Or you wouldn’t go to all this trouble to spoil me.”

  “Of course I care about you.”

  “So this is normal for you? This is just your idea of fun?”

  Chapter 13: Ella

  “Yes,” he said. “Isn’t it yours?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he was messing with me.

  He scooted a few inches away, squaring his shoulders towards mine. The way his robe gaped open over his chest wasn’t doing anything to hurt my appetite, but the conversation was starting to spoil it.

  “What is it that you’re trying to say, Ella?”

  “I guess what I want to know what it is we are exactly?”

  He furrowed his brow. “We’re coworkers-”

  “And lovers.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “I think that’s more than enough, don’t you?”

  I sighed. I didn’t know.

  “You’re the one who didn’t want anything serious. You’re the one who’s so focused on your career that you weren’t even sure if you had time for fun.”

  “True.”

  “So don’t all of a sudden confuse things by pretending you want some kind of substantial relationship, some kind of meaningless label for what we have.” He drained the rest of his juice. “Trying to assign roles and expectations here is only going to ruin this.”

  “I know what you’re saying.” I moved the tray beside me on the bed and gathered my hands in fron
t of me. “But what if I did want something like that, something more?”

  He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Seriously?”

  I shrugged.

  “That wouldn’t be possible.”

  “Why not?” I crossed my arms in front of me. “I’m not saying that’s what I want by the way. I’m just asking.”

  He looked at me like he didn’t believe me, and he was right to. I barely believed myself.

  “Because we would both have to want that and I don’t.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “Ever?”

  “It’s not personal.” He picked up the tray and carried it back over to the desk.

  “It feels kind of personal. Maybe that’s only because I’m naked in your bed right now, but-”

  “Well it’s not,” he said. “I don’t want anything serious with you, and I don’t want anything serious with anyone else.”

  “You just want to have a good time.”

  He leaned against his desk and nodded, pulling his robe around him. “Yes.”

  “And to keep your options open.”

  “No. What options? What are you talking about?”

  “Are you sleeping with other people?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be a toy that you can play with until something else catches your eye.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I think I have a right to know.”

  “I don’t understand why it matters if we enjoy the time we spend together.”

  “So I can sleep around if I want?”

  He folded his arms.

  “Well?”

  “I would prefer you didn’t.”

  “Oh right. Cause you don’t like to share.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

  “Ella, I’m not sleeping with anybody else.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No.”

  I felt a burst of relief in my chest, but I didn’t dare show it.

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you whatever it is you think you want to hear just to make you happy when this isn’t serious, and it’s never going to be.”

  “Never?”

  He shook his head. “Never.”

  I felt my body go cold. “I see.”

  “And this bullshit arguing is exactly why it’s never going to be. I don’t see why either of us should have to make promises to the other that we can’t keep when there is nothing wrong with the way things are.”

  “So that’s how it’s going to be then? You just continue to get everything you want exactly how you want it, and eventually I’ll just be a casualty in a long line of lovers that amused you for a while.”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

  “You already have.”

  “Don’t be belligerent, Ella.”

  “Belligerent!”

  “For once I just need you to trust me when I say I have a lot more experience than you do when it comes to relationships-”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “And for a relationship to work both people have to want the same things. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I don’t want any of the things that you want.”

  “How do you know what I want?” I threw the covers off me and marched around the bed to collect my underwear. “You have no idea what I want.”

  “I have some idea.”

  “No you don’t. You don’t even know me!”

  “I know enough.”

  “You know what you want to know. You know what’s convenient for you. Because that’s what I am for you. Convenient.”

  “I’m not going to argue with that-”

  “Aghh!”

  “But I hope you know that’s not all you are. You’re more than that to me.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, but I’m not going to lie to you and bend over backwards spouting meaningless clichés just to convince you of that.”

  I pulled my dress up over my hips and put my arms through the straps one at a time.

  “I’ve tried to show you that I care about you with actions instead of words.”

  “Cause they speak louder, do they?”

  “In my experience, much louder.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry if I haven’t done enough to convince you that this isn’t just about convenience or toys for me.”

  I stopped when I got to the top of the stairs and fixed my eyes on him. “But it’s not about love either.”

  He looked at me with a straight face. “No.”

  I swallowed but didn’t say anything. I knew my voice would break if I spoke, and I didn’t want to cry until I got into the hallway.

  Which I did as soon as I closed the door behind me.

  At first it was a quiet cry, silent tears rolling down my hot cheeks while I waited for the elevator. But as soon as I got in it, I started to ugly cry- big hiccupping gasps of self-pity that made me feel like I was drowning from the inside out.

  What was my problem? Why did I even ask? Why would I even want a relationship with that jerk? How could he have sex with me like that- the way he had the night before- and say he didn’t have any real feelings for me?

  The wild stuff I could understand. The fucking was one thing, but last night he’d basically made love to me. Or at least it was how I imagined making love was supposed to be. It was tender and meaningful and more than just carnal gratification.

  Or at least it was for me. Perhaps that made me a fool. Maybe the fact that I was young meant I wasn’t as skilled at controlling complicated emotions as he was. I think my outburst proved that.

  Still, either he meant what he said- that this was just fun for him, spoiling me rotten and making me come every which way he could think of- or he was being dishonest.

  Part of me desperately wanted to believe that he was lying, that he did care, that for some reason he just couldn’t admit it. But why did he have to say it would never be more serious. I understood him insisting that he didn’t want to make me false promises, but he could’ve given me some hope.

  There was no doubt I’d blown my cover anyway. He knew now that I cared about him more than I ever intended to. I couldn’t pretend otherwise like he could- if he was even pretending. I couldn’t go on dates and eat breakfast in bed and look in someone’s eyes while I came with him and not feel more than casual affection.

  It was about more than sex for me and it was all his fault. He was the one that introduced the elements that made it more… the flowers, the dinners, that goddamn intimate shower we took.

  All of those amazing things we did together were supposed to be the highlights of a real relationship. Or so I thought.

  But I guess I would have to break things off or settle. Like I always did.

  Obviously, I was asking for too much. I’d had my share of commitment with nothing worth looking forward to and now I had a great relationship without the security of commitment. Maybe having it all wasn’t even possible.

  Unless you were Will fucking Abbott, the man who always gets what he wants, the man I wish had come running after me before I left the building.

  But he didn’t.

  Chapter 14: Will

  I thought about running after her. In fact, I thought about it for long after it was a feasible option.

  But what then?

  I could grab her and tell her what she wanted to hear.

  But I wasn’t sure what that was.

  And even if I did, I suspected it wasn’t something I would be able to say in good faith.

  I couldn’t believe she actually used the word love. She asked me if what was going on between us had anything to do with love. Like I was some kind of fucking expert on human emotion.

  I wanted to say no. I wanted to say that our relationship outside the office was purely
sexual, that I was aroused and motivated by what her body could offer me and nothing more.

  But it wasn’t purely sexual. On the contrary, there was nothing pure about my feelings for her. Not after the last twenty four hours. The earrings, the breakfast in bed, the sex we had last night. It was just as confusing for me.

  But she didn’t have to fucking try and discuss it just because we shared a tender moment. Just because at the last second I decided to be gentle, to enjoy her enjoying me. Just because there was a split second when I felt not so much like I was having her- but that I was giving myself to her- didn’t mean she had to read into it.

  Couldn’t she just fucking forget about it? It was only a few minutes?

  I should never have been like that with her. It was a mistake. I crossed a line. But there was something about seeing the way she looked when I laid her down on my bed in her little black dress, the feeling of her arms as they slipped away from my neck, the size of her eyes as she looked up at me and watched me undress.

  It made me want her in a different way, a more intimate way.

  I don’t know if it was a better way. I only know that it scared the shit out of me that I wanted her like that, and after her little accusatory outburst I think it’s fair to say it scared the shit out of her, too.

  But it was still just sex. Classy after dinner sex, but sex nonetheless. Sex with her boss. What even gave her the nerve to address the fact that we had both let ourselves down by being with each other that way?

  I couldn’t blame her, though. Once she had her clothes off, I was in charge. She couldn’t think straight. Last night she hadn’t even been able to hide how bad she wanted it. She was grinding her hips against me every way she knew how like her whole body was begging me to fuck her.

  I was the one that didn’t give in. I was the one that waited until we were both aching for it so bad it started to hurt. Only then did I give in to her. Only then did I push inside her, letting her suck me straight to her center until the air left her lungs.

  Even that was forgivable. What wasn’t forgivable was that I didn’t look away when I brought her to the brink. It was one thing to watch a woman come when her eyes were closed and her mouth was open, to watch how pleasure could twist her face. But it was another thing to look her in the eyes while it happened, to see the depth of her orgasm as it crashed through her.