His Temporary Assistant: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy (Kensington Square Book 1)

by Taryn Quinn

  “I didn’t mean that,” she said after a moment, sounding chagrined. “I was just going to make a rude nooner comment, but not about that. I wouldn’t.”

  “Why wouldn’t you? You think I’m just like my father, don’t you?”

  “I do believe you aren’t married.”

  I let out a frustrated noise and signaled to get onto the highway. “That’s all that you see that separates us?”

  “No. I doubt your father would do all you’ve done for those sweet cats.” She shot me a quick glance. “Or look at them the way you do when you think no one is paying attention.”

  I swallowed uncomfortably. “I’m no hero. I don’t help to get praise.”

  “No, and that’s why you deserve it.”

  I merged onto the highway and grabbed my sunglasses, sliding them on. “I thought we were talking about my dating life.”

  “Why would we talk about that? I can’t see any reason.” Slowly, she crossed and recrossed her legs. “Can you?”

  “It’s a point of fact.”

  “And not my concern, unless you’ve forgotten your unbreakable rules regarding employees.”

  I tightened my fingers around the wheel. “I have a photo on my phone that indicates my rules can bend.”

  “You mean on my phone.”

  Ah, dammit, it was on her phone. I’d wanted to keep the picture, so I could stare at it when I was alone. So I could imagine what it would be like to live like that all the time. To just think of the pleasure of the moment. To take what I craved and give back so much more in return.

  “And yes, your rules can bend. But you never make the choice freely. You’re always led by the woman cursing you for unknown reasons with a sex hex.”

  “Probably just for the amusement of seeing me at your mercy.”

  “Oh, Mr. Shaw,” her voice dropped to a purr, “if I had you at my mercy, I guarantee neither of us would be laughing.”

  Neither of us spoke for the rest of the ride to her apartment, other than a few short directions from Ryan. The cat was mostly quiet, but she twisted around a couple of times to slide her fingers into his cage. Each time, she was rewarded with some action that made her murmur softly to him.

  I’d never been jealous of a cat before.

  Once I pulled into the small parking lot, I drove into the far back, near an alley partially blocked off with a chain link fence. A canopy of trees overhead provided some privacy, and no cars were parked close by.

  That was intentional.

  She frowned and took off her belt, turning toward me on her seat. “What are you doing? There were spots near the building.”

  I took off my own belt and undid the button on my jacket before shifting toward her. “Making a choice,” I said softly, cupping her soft cheek in my palm.

  The pulse just beneath her jaw fluttered wildly against my finger. “Of your own free will.”

  “Yes, but I can’t make any other choice right now. Not because of a sex hex,” I acknowledged as the cutest wrinkle formed between her brows, “but because you’re the most maddeningly intoxicating woman I’ve ever known. Now shut up so I can kiss you.”

  She smiled when our lips met, but that was the last lighthearted moment between us. I slipped my arms around her under her sweater and somehow lifted her into my lap with a minimum of banged knees and flailing arms, and she straddled my legs as if she’d been meant to fit in that very spot, steering wheel in her back and all. She coiled her arms around my neck and our lips refitted together on a long groan, one I was pretty sure we shared.

  I couldn’t stop sucking on her tongue, and she kept driving her fingers through my hair, tugging on my scalp with every twist. Her full breasts were mashed against my chest, her nipples hard and tight, and she tasted like a mix of sin, moonshine—the actual moon, not the alcohol—and the peppermint tea she’d had at work.

  I wanted to drown in her. To thrust between her legs with every bit of the savage gentleness with which I was attacking her sweet, sexy mouth.

  And most especially, to forget a world existed outside what we were like together.

  She scraped her nails down the back of my neck and swiveled against me, grinding her cleft against my very insistent cock. The purr of satisfaction she made in her throat gratified me in ways I couldn’t explain.

  “You came to play ball.” She nipped my lower lip, her lashes flickering over her sultry eyes. “Sir.”

  That single word made me grip her jaw that much more forcefully, my other hand lowering to her breast. It flowed into my palm, full and perfect, and she gasped into the kiss, her mouth battling mine for supremacy. I twisted her nipple and drew on her tongue as she rocked against me, testing us both.

  I had to have more of her.

  Breathing hard, I pulled back long enough for our gazes to connect. Then I lowered my head and sucked on her nipple like I had her tongue, hating the layers of fabric between us. Lightly, she scratched the back of my neck again, adding those little frissons of pain that made my shaft jerk every damn time. As if she loved pushing me to the very boundaries of my control.

  Getting some of my own back, I peeled down her jersey dress and swallowed a groan at the sight of her lacy low-cut red bra. Of course it was sexy. Everything about her was. I nudged that out of my way too and her hard brown nipple was there for the taking.

  Using my lips and tongue and teeth, I pulled hard enough to make her pant and squirm against me.

  “Fuck, we’re outside.” But she wasn’t pushing me away. If anything, she was clutching me closer, her fingers drawing alluring circles on the back of my neck as I licked and nipped her taut little tip.

  “Are you asking to fuck outside? Because we absolutely could. You taste like fucking peaches.”

  “So much swearing from such a normally repressed male.”

  Her rich, throaty laughter jogged something loose inside me. “You think I’m repressed?” I couldn’t decide if I was insulted or if she was challenging me.

  Daring me to prove her wrong.

  “Right now? Now I think you’re lust-drunk.”

  “And I think you talk too much.”

  I slanted my lips over hers, kissing her long and slow before capturing her nipple between my teeth once again. The last rays of the sun sparkled on her crystal necklace, dangling so erotically between her breasts. One of which I hadn’t given any attention yet. I freed the other and swallowed at its sheer perfection before I took her nipple into my mouth.

  Her hands returned to my hair as I devoted myself to my task. I was very good at focusing. And from her quickened breathing, she didn’t mind one bit.

  Distantly, I heard a meow. Then another. Concern pricked at the edges of my consciousness, but Ryan was moaning now, her nails rough against my scalp as she rode my cock through my trousers.

  “I want to taste the rest of you.” She had no idea how close I was to begging.

  How close to just pushing back my seat all the way and taking her right here, possible witnesses and potential public embarrassment be damned.

  I was burning up for her. My clothes felt too tight. I needed to get out of this tie, this jacket, these freaking torture device pants.

  And I needed to get in her. So deep that neither of us could think straight.

  Not that we were now.

  “Mmm. I think we can arrange—” She turned her head and gasped out a laugh.

  Panting, half crosseyed, I turned my head and discovered my new cat sitting on the passenger seat, watching us unrepentantly.

  “What the hell?” I tried to catch my breath, to resist her shiny nipple gleaming up at me. My lips were humming from just the feel of her.

  Ryan tipped her head against mine. “Did you forget to latch the carrier?”

  “No?”

  “That doesn’t sound very certain. Did you head bonk your way out, Smoky?” Her hand shook a little as she held it out to the cat, who rubbed his head against her in a clearly adoring manner.

  One I fully ide
ntified with, especially when she was seated on my lap. My damn zipper was about to bust.

  “Smoky is a great name. Do you like it?” I asked the cat, and then I frowned and pretended I hadn’t.

  Ryan’s laughter rumbled in her throat. “He’s probably hungry. Or has to pee.”

  “We all have needs.”

  “Don’t we just?” She arched a brow, clearly amused at me. She was recovering much faster than I was. “You have a setup at home?”

  “What kind of setup? I have bathroom and kitchen facilities like everyone else.” As her mouth curved, I leaned back against the headrest and took another moment to look my fill at her breasts before covering them back up. The last thing I wanted was anyone to wander by and get a glimpse of her like this. “I blame blood loss.”

  “You mean blood rerouting.” She rubbed against my painfully aroused cock. “So, about that fitting conversation...”

  I grunted. “I need a damn litter box. And cat food. I wasn’t thinking. I’ve never been a parent before. Pet parent,” I added belatedly, but it was too late.

  “You always surprise me, PMS.” Her expression softened beautifully in the fading sunlight. Her skin had the sexiest flush from the rasp of my whiskers, and her lips were puffy from mine. Her nipples were too.

  Just the way I wanted them.

  I brushed my thumb over her mouth. “I like seeing you swollen from me.”

  She nipped the pad of my finger before she slid a glance down my body to where my erection was still doing a mighty fine job of trying to escape my trousers. “Same goes.”

  Before I could say the words circling in my brain—how about we fuck like people who don’t work together—she let out a long sigh. “Let’s go to the pet store.”

  “Really?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Define better.”

  Her throat rose and fell on a quick swallow. “That was hot, but…”

  “But?”

  How was there still a but between us? All the many, many logical reasons aside.

  Ones I was not considering at all. Not until I’d handled the situation that was causing my precipitous drop in IQ points.

  She dropped back her head, exposing the long line of her throat. “I’m not looking to be your morning-after mistake.”

  “I made a choice,” I reminded her. “I kissed you with almost all my faculties intact.”

  “With a dick that hard, I doubt it. Impressive, by the way.” She climbed off my lap and managed to land in the passenger seat without flashing more than a forbidden glimpse of her thigh or crushing the cat.

  “C’mon, Smoky.” She scooped him up. “Let’s get you back in that carrier and go get you some toys and goodies.”

  I reached down to refasten my jacket and adjusted myself with a wince as she got out to settle Smoky in his carrier. I briefly worried about his potential to flee, but he didn’t seem to be a flight risk while she was holding him.

  Who could blame him?

  “Do you have pets?” I asked as she latched the carrier.

  She got back in her seat and clicked her belt back into place as I did the same. She looked seductively mussed with her lipstick partially worn off and her dress askew, and I couldn’t stop staring at her.

  “I have my hands full with plants.” She grinned, studying me. “Your hair is a wreck.”

  I flipped down my visor mirror and discovered she wasn’t lying. I tried to get it back into a semblance of order, and she huffed out a sigh before grabbing her purse. “Come here.”

  I came.

  She did some magic with her hair brush and some spray I didn’t question yet probably should have. “Have you ever tried guyliner? You have the eyes for it. That panty-melting golden brown.”

  “Not sure it’s the proper image for a law office,” I said dryly once she moved back.

  Luckily, she hadn’t added a pink stripe or God knows what to my hair. I just looked put together again.

  I had no reason at all to be disappointed.

  Smoky let out a plaintive meow, which was my cue to slip the car into Drive.

  We arrived at Pet-O-Rama a few minutes later. I wasn’t back to normal, but I was no longer prepared to take her in the front seat. Although I could be ready in an instant, should the situation warrant it.

  I had a feeling it wouldn’t.

  As I parked, Ryan quickly fixed her lipstick and rearranged her hair, ensuring that no one in the world would ever guess we’d behaved highly inappropriately. My biggest regret was that we’d been interrupted.

  “I had sex in a fountain once,” I announced as she was about to get out of the car.

  She glanced back. “Drinking or ornamental?”

  I had to laugh. “Ornamental. It ended with us in the back of a police car.”

  “Ouch.” She grimaced. “But did you get an orgasm first?”

  I frowned. “I can’t quite remember.”

  “I’m gonna go with no then. Pro tip—always make sure you have the orgasm first. C’mon, Smoky,” she said into the back. “We’re going in to get you all kinds of stuff. Daddy’s got a platinum card.” She climbed out to open the back door and free the cat from his prison.

  I was still smiling when it fully clicked in what she was doing. “You can’t bring a wild animal into a retail establishment.”

  She snorted as she nestled the cat against her chest. “Watch me, PMS.”

  She shut the door on my astonished expression.

  I joined them at the double doors and she tapped the sign that said pets welcome before we walked inside.

  We were immediately confronted with a leashed Saint Bernard who lifted his head and licked my likely terrified cat with a pink tongue the size of a chaise lounge.

  I expected the cat to hiss and jump down before running away to hide in the bowels of Pet-O-Rama, never to be seen again.

  Instead, Smoky turned his head and began to wash his face.

  “I thought cats hated dogs,” I said when my voice returned and we’d turned down an aisle with many fish tanks.

  “Don’t believe the hype.”

  “Hmm.”

  “All animals are as different as all humans are. Take you and me.”

  “You always get the orgasm first?”

  It took a father hurrying his young daughter down the aisle away from us for me to fully grasp I was not using my indoor voice.

  Ryan buried her face in the cat’s fur to stifle her laughter. Then she glanced up and gave me a sly look. “I’m going to say no. Because you definitely left me hanging in the car.”

  “Don’t blame me for that,” I said under my breath and nodded to the cat.

  She scratched his neck. “Don’t listen to him, Smoky.”

  I followed her down the maze of aisles after accepting the basket she thrust at me, vowing not to speak again unless I was spoken to—at least not before I’d had an opportunity to relieve myself properly in the shower.

  Obviously, I wasn’t capable of rational, voice-modulated discourse beforehand.

  We wandered through the store, filling the basket. Cats needed a lot of items, apparently, although they themselves were quite small. Things such as dishes for dry and wet food and for water. At least that was what I believed, but she shoved a fancy fountain thing at me and told me fresh was best.

  Next up were treats. Soft ones. Hard ones. She offered them along with a lecture about not overfeeding, which seemed counterintuitive since she was the one suggesting I offer my cat all manner of junk food.

  When the basket overflowed, I traded it for a cart, and Ryan put Smoky into the extra large bright pink litter pan she had selected. I expected the cat to jump out, but he seemed quite content to be pushed around while we loaded up on jumbo bags of cat litter—how much did one animal go?—and dry food containers and cans of food.

  Throughout, Smoky observed all, silently and without judgment. Well, without much judgment.

  It helped that she found a large catnip snake
for him to amuse himself with. Half the filling had spilled out and was smeared all over his chin and cheeks by the time we made it to the checkout line. I blamed my distraction with the destroyed toy for how Ryan was able to sneak a cat harness into our purchases.

  Also bright pink.

  Worst of all, it had a pouch-like add-on called a Pussy Papa. Or maybe that was what they thought you’d be called if any of your neighbors saw you wearing one.

  “I’m not putting this on,” I said once we were in the parking lot, and Ryan was loading Smoky into the carrier. I held the ensemble up by its two pink straps. “Not in this life or any other.”

  She shut the back door before yanking the contraption out of my hand and tucking it into a bag with some paw-shaped lights she’d added to the cart when I wasn’t looking. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with those either.

  “Being secure in your masculinity is sexy,” she informed me before closing the trunk.

  “My masculinity isn’t in question. What makes you think Smoky wants to ride around in that? We got him a leash, which again, he’s a cat not a dog. If he wants to go outside, I have a backyard. Fenced, I might add.”

  “Right, and all it takes is one errant wild dog to leap the fence and take him out. And you know they can climb, right?”

  “Oh, but he’s going to be safe strapped to my chest?”

  “Well, of course.” She reached up to pinch my biceps, fluttering her lashes. “Why, you could protect a little defenseless feline without even breaking a sweat.”

  “I can still fire you even if you’re a temporary worker.”

  She leaned up against me and whispered in my ear. “So you can get my breasts in your mouth again? You don’t need to fire me for that, obviously.”

  The part of me that cared obsessively about rules bristled. What we were doing—what I was doing—wasn’t proper in any way. Then she turned around and sauntered back to the passenger seat, putting a swivel in her walk that could’ve drawn me straight to the gates of hell.

  And I didn’t care about wrong or right.

  I got behind the wheel and glanced into the back. Smoky was sleeping head down, the partially destroyed catnip mouse mashed beneath his face.

  Clearly, I wasn’t the only one getting high on my own supply.