It was a long, awkward morning, with Erica obviously avoiding him. It bothered Brock more than he cared to admit that she was clearly hurt, and that he missed their easy interactions. Finally, Brock couldn’t put it off any longer and sent her a text, even though she was just one room away.
Got a second?
A moment later, there was a knock on the door and he drew a slow breath before calling, “Come on in.”
She walked in, her eyes looking every which way, far from the confident person he’d come to know. Even as he took in her pallor and nervousness, he couldn’t help but notice how good she looked. It seemed that she just didn’t have a bad day in her; she was beautiful morning, noon, and night.
“Can I help you with something?” she finally said, hovering in front of his desk until he waved her into a chair. “Run an errand? Reschedule a—”
“It’s not work-related,” Brock cut in, opting for blunt, since that was his comfort zone. “Are you okay, Erica?”
She gave him a look. “Not exactly. You know why. But I knew it would affect work, so it’s on me.”
He winced. “No, it’s just as much on me.” Then he didn’t know what else to say. Sorry? But he wasn’t. Not at all. And he’d told her what to expect, right?
There was an awkward pause between them, and Brock felt his thoughts racing. He didn’t know what had come over him. With the rest of the world, he was the suave and smooth businessman, able to handle and take care of anything. It was often said that no one and nothing could rattle him, and it was a rumor that he had often lived up to with pride.
But with this girl seated on the chair on the opposite side of his desk, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t nervous about what she was going to say when she left, he was worried that he was going to say something that would make her leave. She hadn’t said anything about the text that he had sent her that morning, and that fact in itself bothered him.
“If that’s all, then I’ll get back to work.” Erica got to her feet abruptly. “I’ll deal with it, Brock. I’m a grown woman. I made a choice last night. I don’t regret it, even if this is the result.”
Somehow, hearing that she didn’t regret it eased some of Brock’s own tension. He got to his feet and moved in front of Erica, to cut her off from the door.
She gave him a warning look. “I have work to do, Brock. Your work.”
The hurt in her eyes shattered what was left his walls and he reached out and hauled her into him, kissing her fiercely.
For one brief second, Erica resisted, but then she melted into him and he groaned with relief, plunging between her soft lips. “I’m sorry I’m such a shit,” he whispered, smoothing her hair back and trailing his hands down her lush body.
“Don’t talk,” she whispered, swiftly unbuttoning the front of his shirt and scattering kisses over his chest. “Just do, Brock. Before my brain full engages.”
Somehow, he broke away from her long enough to lock the door. When he turned back, she was standing by his desk, her shirt halfway off, just like his. Brock caught her lips again and ravaged them, before slipping the remainder of her clothing off and just taking a step to revel in the goddess who was now fully naked in his office.
“Fuck, you’re the most beautiful creature on earth,” he groaned, going to his knees and hooking Erica’s hips with one arm. He pulled her into him and set his mouth between her legs, feasting on the hot, melting warmth. Her muffled groans only spurred him onward to hold her legs wider open, tracing his tongue up and down her lips, nibbling at them, suckling, before plunging two fingers deep inside at the same time that he kissed her clit.
The way Erica bucked and writhed made it almost impossible to stop, and her breathy little gasps pushed him right to the brink himself, but finally he managed to pull away before he undid them both completely. They’d only have one time before someone or other interrupted them, so he wanted them both to come together.
Kissing his way back up her lovely body, lingering at the soft rise of her stomach and moving into the full swells of her breasts, Brock devoured each breast in slow turn before turning Erica to face the desk.
“I’ve fantasized about this constantly,” she whispered as he undid his pants, pulling out his rigid cock.
“Did you use just your fingers?” he whispered back, leaning into her ear as he slowly pushed himself deep inside, shuddering at how tight and wet she was. “Fuck, baby. Ahhh … fuck … yes.”
“No. Vibrator,” she gasped, as Brock reached around to stroke her clit in time with each thrust. “Brock … oh God … I’m already so close …”
Imagining her in bed with her legs splayed, her toy working between her beautiful pale thighs, making her shudder and scream in ecstasy, drove Brock half insane. He thrust into her wildly, and when she started to get too loud, he reached for his tie and stuffed it into her mouth, which seemed to make her even crazier.
She bucked against him, breath ragged, breasts heaving, her moans and whimpers resonating at the very core of his own body.
“Erica … Erica …” he growled over and over, biting her shoulder lightly as her felt her start to come, and the tightening around his cock triggered his own explosive orgasm, so violent that if the desk hadn’t been so strong, it would’ve been shaking.
He held her to him as he emptied himself deep inside, whispering raw nothings that he was glad nobody could possibly have understood, because they came from the softest part of him, his heart, where he never let anybody in.
Finally, Brock slipped out of Erica and turned her back to face him.
The dazed look on her face very nearly made him hard again and he leaned down to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, brushing a tender kiss on each breast before slowly stepping back. “I hate to let you go.” As he spoke, he realized he meant it more ways than one.
“Damn meetings,” Erica laughed breathlessly, beginning to collect her clothes. Brock didn’t make it easy on her, he admitted to himself later, interrupting her at every turn with another kiss, pressing his lips to each sweet, tender spot before it vanished beneath the unwanted fabric, until her blouse was finally fully buttoned and she somehow managed to pat her hair back into place.
“One sec,” Brock said, before she stepped out of the office. He picked up the phone. “Hey, Ange, do me a favor? There’s a package that was supposed to be delivered today and I haven’t seen it. Erica’s out on some kind of errand. Can you check? Thanks.”
A moment later, he hung up and smiled at Erica. “Coast is clear.”
As she smiled back and slipped out of the office, Brock stood there, frozen, staring after her, the realization sinking in more than ever.
He was crazy about her.
Damn it all.
Chapter 11
“I know, I know, I know.” Erica fended off Meagan’s scolding, hunching over the salad she’d been trying to eat ever since they got to their usual favorite lunch spot. She’d made the mistake of telling Meagan everything and was now paying dearly for it.
“You realize this is exactly what he wanted,” Meagan went on. “Paying off your debts was just an opener. He probably hired you because he liked how you look—”
“Stop!” Erica cut in, finally having had enough, and Meagan must have heard the edge in her tone because she finally shut up. “I get it. I fell for my boss—yes, I fell for him, it wasn’t just me climbing into bed with nobody—” she said in response to her best friend’s suddenly wide eyes, “I fell for him, and that was my first mistake. My second was taking the money, and my third was sleeping with him. But he hired me because of my talent, Meagan. You said from the very beginning that it would be about my looks and that was insulting then. It’s insulting now.” Throwing down a few bills, Erica stood up, giving up on lunch.
“Wait,” Meagan said hastily, getting up too and reaching out a hand. “Erica, I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t want
you to get hurt.”
Erica stood stiffly, hating the tears in her eyes. “It’s not like I think it’ll work between us. How could it? He’s a billionaire and I’m some college student off the street who happened to get lucky enough to be hired by him. He’s a playboy. He’s been completely upfront about that. He doesn’t want to commit. I get it. I’m fully aware of the fucking reality. But that doesn’t make a bit of difference in how I feel.” She grabbed a napkin, jabbed at her eyes with it, and walked away.
As she did, with Meagan hurrying alongside her desperately, Erica’s phone started buzzing, and she looked down at it. “I don’t know who this is,” she muttered, stepping outside of the café and answering. “Hello?”
“Yes, is this Miss Samson?” She didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes?” Erica said uncertainly, shrugging her shoulders at Meagan’s quizzical look.
“This is Officer Johnson. Ma’am, your father has just been transported to the hospital.”
Erica’s heart froze and she momentarily blanked out everything else the officer was saying until she finally registered the words heart attack heart attack heart attack, and they rattled around in her brain until they forced words from her lips.
“Oh my God. Is he going to be okay?” she cried into the phone, leaning into Meagan’s immediately supportive arm. “Where did you say he is? Is he going to be okay?”
“Ma’am, all I can tell you is that he is at the hospital right now.” The officer rattled off a name and address and then hung up, shaking violently.
“I’ll drive,” Meagan said firmly, having gathered the gist of the conversation from Erica’s reaction. As she guided Erica along the street, the world seemed hazy and out of focus.
She couldn’t bring herself to think of something bad happening to her father. She’d barely known her mother. Her father had raised her by himself and was the best man she knew.
“He has to be okay,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face as Meagan ushered her into her car and then sped toward the hospital.
The next 48 hours were a living nightmare. From the moment they arrived in the hospital until Monday afternoon, when yet another heart specialist arrived to speak with her, all Erica could do was sit helplessly by her father’s bedside, where he was surrounded by so much machinery that it felt like a factory. There were so many tubes in his work-worn hands that she couldn’t even hold one, so she settled for staying awake beside him, touching his shoulder frequently, whispering prayers and pleas.
The specialist rambled on about her father’s heart condition, the reason for the induced coma, all the things Erica had been hearing for days, and then threw one more iron in the fire.
“He’ll require further surgery. His heart is so badly scarred from previous trauma that we weren’t able to fully perform the necessary procedures the first time.”
Erica had barely recovered from hearing that, when the surgeon continued, “We don’t think he’ll need to be put on a transplant list, but he’ll require intensive care for quite some time, to get him back to health. And after that, he’ll need to see …”
Erica heard the long list of specialist and therapists and medications, even as she knew they didn’t have the money to pay for it. Her father’s pre-existing conditions had been the death sentence on any number of insurance plans they’d applied for over the years.
She managed to somehow thank the doctor and saw him to the door, then was sinking back into her chair when a familiar voice made her head shoot up.
“How is he?”
“Brock,” she exclaimed in surprise, jumping back up to her feet and realizing that in the chaos, she’d completely forgotten to call work. She’d simply skipped going in. “Oh my god, I’m so—”
Then he was beside her, drawing her into his arms, holding her tight. “Shh. How is he?” he repeated, and Erica broke down and cried for the hundredth time, leaning into Brock’s big, broad chest as he kissed her hair and whispered soft, reassuring words.
Finally, she drew back and managed to sniff, “How did you know?”
“Your best friend called,” he replied, snagging a tissue from a nearby box and gently wiping her face. “You should’ve called. I would’ve been here immediately, Erica.”
“I wasn’t thinking about anything except him.” She looked at her still, silent father and tears overflowed her eyes again. “He can’t die. He just can’t. It sounds so selfish, but I’ll be all alone.” Her voice cracked.
Brock slid an arm around her waist. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. I know I told you I’m not into commitment, and I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you.”
His words felt bizarrely discordant with his sudden appearance and she went from feeling reassured and supported, to alone all over again. It was like he just had to drive home that one point.
“I don’t even know what that means.” Erica drew away and folded her arms around herself, desperately cold in this lonely, sterile room. “What exactly are we, if we’re not committed?”
He grimaced and she kicked herself around the block, already knowing the next words out of his mouth. “I told you before … everything. I just don’t do that kind of stuff. I’m your friend, Erica. Your boss. Your friend. Your lover sometimes.”
She clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt. “Of course. You did tell me. I’m the one who deluded myself into thinking I could possibly be more.”
She needed to walk. She’d been cooped up into this room for too long. Needing air, she started for the door and headed down the hallway, not knowing where she was going, but unable to stop moving.
Brock kept pace with her easily. “Erica. I know it sounds terrible, but it’s honestly not you. I swear, the problem is all—”
“Oh, I know where the problem is,” she interrupted, taking the stairs two at a time. “And I’m no innocent. You were upfront, and I should’ve seen it coming. I let myself be bought almost from day one. My salary. My debts.”
“Whoa!” Brock protested, as she nearly slammed the door to the lobby in his face, still keeping close on her heels. “Yes, you looked drop-dead gorgeous when I hired you, but I don’t hire employees because of knockout legs and breasts that keep me hard 24/7. Damn it, Erica, I hired you because of your brain. Would you stop for just one second?!”
She had stopped, finally, and was staring at a magazine in the hospital’s giftshop. Reaching out, Erica picked it up and stared at the cover. Brock glanced at it and groaned. “Erica—”
It was a standard tabloid, supermarket style, filled with celebrities and diet tricks. And on the cover was her boss, her lover, her “friend” passionately making out with a certain celeb du jour.
“That wasn’t recent,” Brock began, and Erica waved him away, putting the magazine back down and resuming her endless walk.
“You don’t have to apologize. Like you said. We’re nothing. And even if we were something, which we’ll never be, I know, I know, that doesn’t matter right now. What does is that my father may be dying. That is all that matters to me, Brock. You are no longer important. Maybe you’ve never heard those words before, so hear them clearly from me.”
She pivoted and faced him dead on, not even angry as she looked into his handsome, shocked faced. All she felt was empty. Hollowed out. “You are no longer important. I would like to keep my job, because I have to once again pay my bills along with my father’s, but that is the only reason I don’t outright quit. Please don’t fire me. If I have to beg, I will. For him. Not for me.”
He blanched, but she didn’t have enough energy left in her to regret her words. “I would never fire you. Erica, I’ll pay for his care so you don’t have to worry—”
“Not on your life.” She drew herself up to her slight height. “I can take out loans. I will take out loans. I cared for him before, and I will care for him again. You’re not buying me a second time. Maybe it would be best for Dad. Probably it would be. But he’d die for sure
if he knew I let you give me one more penny. Thank you, but no thank you. So long as you’ll still have me as an employee, I’ll see you at work in a couple days. I’ll need a few days of leave to finish figuring things out here.”
Brock stared at her for a long, endless moment before silently nodding.
Nodding back, Erica exhaled a long, slow breath and walked away. This time he didn’t follow her.
Chapter 12
“I told her exactly what the deal was,” Brock muttered, downing another shot beside Jack at the bar. “Just like with every other woman, I was crystal clear on the deal.”
Unusually patiently, Jack sat and drank, just listening.
“She acted like I’d promised her … I don’t know … marriage, or something,” Brock exclaimed, waving at the bartender for another round. “What the fuck!”
Jack continued to sit quietly and Brock finally exploded. “What? Say something!”
“You won’t like it.”
Brock’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “When have you ever told me what I want to hear? That’s not how this relationship works.”
“Oh, so you’re committed to at least one relationship, then?” Jack said dryly.
“What is that—”
“It means that you’re a good guy, Brock, and you’re my best friend, but you’re one hell of a selfish son of a bitch.” Jack shook his head and took a slow sip of something or other that wasn’t a shot. What the hell had he been drinking while Brock had been downing drink after drink?
“Meaning?” Brock snapped.
“Meaning that her father could be dead as we speak and you’re making this entirely about you. You walked into that hospital room and some of the first words out of your mouth weren’t ‘I’m so sorry, baby. What can I do?’ No, you had to make sure she was crystal clear on your commitment issues first.”
The Alpha's Assistant & The Dom Next Door Page 5