by Nikky Kaye
“Watch it, Madeline. I’m not a hundred years older than you.”
“Classical?” she suggested.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “You want me to fall asleep at the wheel?”
“Point taken.” Scroll scroll. “How about the Beatles? Hey, did you ever see them in concert?”
She giggled when I growled at her.
By the time the fool was on the hill, she’d started to drift off. The album ended, and without shuffle turned on, silence filled the car again. Within moments of peaceful stillness and the rhythmic sound of the tires slapping the highway, she was out like a light. I was jealous, but couldn’t hold it against her.
For a retreat weekend, I didn’t feel very refreshed. In fact, I felt exhausted.
It was surprisingly hard work resisting my own desires all weekend. I’d never had to work so hard at it before. Never had I felt so impulsive or so close to being out of control—and all over a woman.
But something in my chest twisted as I looked over at Madeline, and over the previous forty-eight hours I’d accepted that I wanted her. I wanted her, and I was going to have her—any way she would let me. It was a good thing I was an excellent multi-tasker.
In the quiet car, with her breathing quietly beside me, it seemed like as good a time as any to fantasize about her. I imagined her in my shower, on my kitchen island…
The tires on the cement made a rhythmic white noise, though muffled by solid German engineering. My eyelids felt heavier as we bore down the road. After the third time I found myself shifting in my seat to stay awake, I decided to pull over at the nearest rest stop.
She woke as I stopped at the far edge of a picnic area, bereft of cars.
“Do we need gas or something?’ She straightened her legs, her toes stretching underneath the glove compartment.
I swiveled in my seat toward her. “Are we going to do this?”
“Do what?” She peered at me. “Road head?” she squeaked.
“No.” I smiled. She may not like pink, but her blush was very becoming. There were several places on her body I yearned to see all rosy and warm. “Though I would definitely take a rain check on it, if you’re offering.”
“I thought you were offering,” she joked.
“Touché.”
“I wish.”
With a gentle click, I undid her seatbelt. “There’s always making out.”
Her gaze was riveted to me, curious and open and she let me twist my hands in either side of her open coat. I pulled her toward me, thrilling at her small gasp.
“Making out? How old school of you, sir.”
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I said.
She looked me straight in the eye and repeated, “You don’t want this.”
“Liar.”
I kissed her. Each time I kissed her, I fell further under her spell. My body had been in a constant state of tension all weekend, and my soul wasn’t far behind. She kissed me back, but hesitantly at first. Her lips drifted across mine in the lightest of touches. Was she unsure?
When I drew back a little, she glared down at the console between us, and I realized that her timidity was due to the obstacle in the car, not in her mind. Hauling her to my lap was a great idea in theory, but impractical unless she wanted to almost sit on the steering wheel.
I opened the car door and got out. She watched me as I walked around the front of the car. Her eyes were still on me when I opened her door.
“Back seat. Now.”
She raised a delicate eyebrow at me, but the corner of her mouth also perked up. “I’m sorry?”
Oh right, the magic word. “Please.” This is why I’d hired her, after all. I wasn’t always the best communicator.
I stepped back to offer her assistance. When she took it, the electric feel of her skin against mine unnerved me, and like an idiot I dropped her hand. She climbed out of the car and closed the door behind her, then leaned against it.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I don’t know. What are we doing?”
“Dating?” she guessed. “But what about work?”
I tilted my head as I considered it. “What about it?”
“Do you think we can still work together and see each other? I mean—you are my boss. Everyone probably already thinks we’re sleeping together since we shared a suite this weekend.” She put her fists on her hips. “Really, Gage, that wasn’t the smart—”
I covered her mouth with my hand. “Let it go. As for the office, are you going to charge with me sexual harassment if I do this?”
Her eyes widened when I reached inside her coat with my other hand and palmed her breast. Her nipple hardened underneath her sweater and bra. Wordlessly she straightened, reaching up to tug my hand away from her face.
“Only if you do that at the office.”
“I want you.” I simply could not be blunter. “What do you want?”
“A raise?”
I doubted that she meant my own pulsating erection. My hands met at the small of her back; she was trapped between my body and the car behind her.
“Are we negotiating?”
She shook her head, her cinnamon-colored curls floating around her shoulders. “I am not trading sexual favors for money,” she informed me. Her tone was extraordinarily prim, considering the fact that you could barely get a piece of paper between us.
I grinned. “I don’t want your money.”
“What? No, I meant—ugh!” She reached up to smack me on the side of my arm.
“Madeline, as you noted earlier this morning with the assistance of a foam bat, I am very good at putting things into boxes. I’m sure we can successfully compartmentalize our relationship outside the office and still perform at work.”
She blinked up at me, her eyes shining. “You had me at ‘compartmentalize.’”
“Smart ass.”
My mouth covered her smile as I pressed her back against the car. Immediately she welcomed me inside, the tip of her tongue touching mine in a long, slow kiss—the kind that kneecapped you like a gangster. It was a good thing I could brace myself against the car, because her taste, her smell, the feel of her body were all threatening to fell me.
I’d never dated a lot, much to my mother’s—and her friends’—disappointment. In college I was a geek playing video games, and when I started making money I wanted to stay in control. That meant control of everything, including my libido.
Maddie’s hands skimmed down my back to the hem of my leather jacket. Her fingers traced along the waistband of my pants, making my skin crawl in the best possible way.
“Back seat?” she whispered against my lips.
I hadn’t planned to take her in the back seat, only… borrow her a little, make out like lust-ridden teenagers. Looking around, I saw a lonely picnic table, a trash can designed to keep out wildlife, and a lot of trees. There was nobody around…
“What would we do there?” I had ideas of my own, but wanted to hear hers. It was still a fairly sleek car, not exactly a station wagon.
She tugged my head down, her mouth close to my ear. “I still haven’t gotten my hands on you yet,” she said. Oh god.
“No, you haven’t.”
“I bet you I can make you come without even touching you.”
Something in my spine rattled. “Miss Jones, you can be very persuasive.”
“That’s why you hired me.”
“Has anyone ever called you ‘spunky’?”
She squinted, her hands stilling maddeningly on my fly. “Maddie, Madeline, Mad, Kid, Maggie, and Red,” Her hand moved further down the front of my pants. “But no Spunky… yet.”
“Smart ass,” I said again with a groan, inwardly cursing as an SUV pulled up about twenty feet away. The heat of her body was driving me insane. I wanted to be inside it. But it would have to wait.
“You’re being repetitive.” She tsked.
A young couple fell out of the nea
rby vehicle, catching my attention. The woman then pried a crying toddler out and took it over to the grass. With a sinking heart, I shook my head and reconsidered my plan. “No back seat.”
“Awwww.”
Her pout utterly disarmed me. Then she shocked me a little with her next words.
“You’re right. I think we need to back up a bit.”
Her words clogged my ears, not quite making it to my brain. Normally, when I wanted something I went for it—all in, no excuses.
Conversely, Madeline’s spontaneity and feistiness belied a casual, noncommittal attitude, which stuck in my throat even more. I wanted her to give me all of herself, or at least one hundred percent of whatever portion she was offering.
“Back up? Madeline, I’ve already tied you up and made you come like a freight train,” I reminded her in a low voice.
Her face went bright pink with embarrassment. Her forehead bonked on my chest, her hands still on my waist. “Ugh, I know,” she muttered. The memory made me dizzy, distracting me briefly. The arch of her back, the rope on her wrists, the succulent taste of her—oh yeah.
“What do you want?” I asked her again, deadly serious. I tilted her chin up, not letting her hide while I tried to ignore the aching bulge in my pants. It got more painful when she pressed her knuckles against it.
She kissed the left corner of my mouth. “I want you to want me.” Then she kissed the right corner. “I want to be wanted, just for me.”
“I do,” I replied shakily. Actually, it alarmed me how much I desired her. It threatened to make me lose control, to unman me. Just telling her that gave her power over me that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.
The screeching of the nearby child and the white noise of the cars on the highway numbed my ears. Madeline took up the entirety of my vision; everything else around us was blurry and unimportant. I only knew the sun was shining because of the way it lit up her hair like a fiery halo.
But when I gazed into her eyes, I realized that her need wasn’t just about lust. There was a shadow of insecurity, of uncertainty about what or who she was. Knowing now that she was adopted, I tried to remember what she had said about her birth mother. The memory, despite it being so recent, slipped through my synapses like a computer worm.
Her hands slid up between us to briefly cup each side of my neck. “So let’s go home, and then tomorrow—” She smiled lazily. “—Or the next day, since my boss gave me the day off, we go to work. We just don’t let work get in the way.”
“You mean us get in the way of work.”
“Either way. We’ll give it a shot.” She shrugged.
Her confidence overwhelmed me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MADDIE
Three weeks after the mountain retreat, Gage and I had managed to separate our work and personal lives so successfully that we were acting like we were in high school and sneaking around like Romeo and Juliet.
We’d flirted relentlessly, had lunch together more days than not, dinner a handful of times, and logged a few epically hot make-out sessions on the leather couch in the corner of his office after everyone had gone home. For all that I complained at the retreat about working long hours, it seemed less of a hardship when my boss’s exacting hands and lips were on me.
But we still hadn’t gone any further than second base, leaving me perpetually hot and frustrated. Honestly, I wasn’t sure who I was getting more attached to—Gage or my battery-operated boyfriend.
At my, um, employer’s request, I began testing Happit on my phone. In the past week, I’d successfully scheduled my self-love sessions into a routine. And I’d been on time for work—mostly.
“Did Nikhil see us leave together last night?” I asked Gage one morning, my hands clutching the side of his door tightly.
I wasn’t sleeping with the boss—yet, but I still didn’t want to have a reputation. We’d spent too long talking at the end of the day, then even more time on the couch not talking. By the time we left, my stomach was growling and I was breathless from kissing. I hadn’t noticed that Nikhil was still there as well, until he waved as we passed his open office door.
Gage beckoned me to his desk.
I glanced behind me, but nobody was there. Phew. Wait, why was I sighing in relief? I could walk into my employer’s office without guilt or shame, couldn’t I? For god’s sakes, my desk was right outside the door! Rolling my eyes at myself, I went up to his desk, careful not to put my hands down and smudge the freshly cleaned glass.
He crooked his finger again, a smirk toying with his beautiful, addictive lips. Damn those lips. I was powerless against them.
“Well? Did he?” I rounded the desk to where he sat in his big cushy chair like a real billionaire. Someday I had plans for him and me and that chair.
So much for stealth dating. Everyone probably heard my loud squeak as he tugged me on to his lap, my arms flailing as the chair back reclined underneath us.
“What are you doing?” I scrambled to get off him, but his arms were wrapped around me like iron bands. “Someone might see us.”
“Who cares?”
“I care! Jesus, Gage. I thought you wanted to compartmentalize! You know, no ‘us’ at work?”
We both glanced over at the couch that we’d been entwined on the evening before, necking like teenagers.
“I think that ship has sailed,” he said, his fingers walking up my spine and his lips on my neck.
“Hmph.” I clambered off, almost falling on the ground in my effort to get away his Kryptonite mouth.
His smile was ten kinds of amused as he watched me adjust my skirt. “What, do you want to meet under the bleachers after school instead? Should I put a note in your locker?”
“I just thought we were backing up a bit.”
“No, Madeline, we’re just going slow. Too slow,” he added with a scowl. “By the way, I want to expand your job description.”
“To what?” I eyed him suspiciously.
“I’d like you to start coordinating all the office communication.”
“I thought I was only supposed to write your letters?”
“It was clear to me from the retreat that good communication is important for the company’s success, internally as well as externally.”
“But…” I didn’t know what to say. Was it a promotion? I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is this a way to give me a raise so I’ll owe you sexual favors?”
He held up his hands. “No, not at all. I just know that you can handle more responsibility.”
I snorted. “Yeah, sucking you off under your desk is a huge responsibility, Gage.” Which I had not yet done, regardless.
His glare was truly frightening, and not for the first time I cursed my impudent tongue. “Talk like that again, and I’ll blister your beautiful ass.”
Shocked into silence, my gaze flew to the floor. The way my belly flipped at his words startled me, but it was a sensation I was getting used to. Gage made me want to try all sorts of things; he already had. I dreamt sometimes about his rope tricks at the lodge and how he’d unraveled me.
“Come here,” he ordered. My feet moved before my brain did. When I was close enough, he grabbed my hand. “Look at me, Madeline.”
I looked up. He was totally serious, and refrained from pulling me onto his lap again. Instead, he kissed my knuckles but still kept me at arm’s length.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I didn’t have full confidence in your abilities. You are smart and capable. It’s time for you to recognize that and take some control over your life.”
I was horrified to find my eyes filling up, and tried to blink it back. My throat was tight. “Ironic advice from a man who just threatened to spank me.”
“That was a promise, not a threat. I respect you, and I expect the same consideration.”
“How does—” I whipped my head around, but there was still no activity in the outer office area, so hopefully nobody listening to us. “How is spanking me respectful, sir?” I h
issed. My insides fluttered, and I realized I would have to change my panties at lunchtime—again. I had begun keeping extra in my desk.
“Oh, it’s not,” he agreed grimly. “It’s a last resort. But I imagine you would respect me more for punishing you for your smart mouth if said smart mouth is running yourself down.”
My mouth fell open as I backtracked over his words again. “God, no wonder you need me to communicate for you.” Was that supposed to be some kind of compliment?
“Exactly.”
I wanted to bang my head against his desk. Or bang him. The two impulses were constantly at war within me these days. “I need to get back to work,” I said.
“By all means.” He dropped my hand after nipping the knuckle on my middle finger. “I’ve already sent an email to Susan about changing your job title and official description.”
Wonderful.
The rest of the week dragged, and the next one after that. Susan was only too happy to dump a ton of personnel information on me so that I could get to know every staff member on paper, for the purposes of effective internal communication.
And now I was being copied on almost every single email that went around the office, including banal stuff. In fact, Gage pointed to the banal stuff as what I could work on streamlining within the system.
My desk was a mess, my inbox was exploding, and the only time I spent on Gage’s couch was for a catnap on Thursday at lunchtime. He didn’t even join me, just sat there in bemusement at his desk, working through lunch and probably watching me sleep. It might have been creepy if he hadn’t also put a blanket over me and made sure nobody came into his office and disturbed me.
Because it never rained but it poured, in addition I was starting to get somewhere in my search for my birth mother. Unfortunately, Jones was a pretty common last name, so I’d found at least a dozen people in adoption registries online and through correctional services that had the same name as my mother. Now all this extra work was distracting me from my goal, which was very frustrating.
I was used to letting things like work and school float around me, like I was dragging my hand in a lake while sitting in a canoe. Now Gage had handed me the oars and demanded I row. By Friday afternoon, I was absolutely, one thousand percent ready for the weekend.