by Lily Cahill
The sweats were too big and too long on Catalina, covering the ample curve of her ass. The soft gray cashmere made her rounded bottom look like a pillow that Everett wanted to bury his head in, but at least she was covered up. The T-shirt backfired, however. She must not have been able to wear a bra with that dress, and now her tits were straining against the fabric, and Everett could make out the outline of her nipples through her shirt. She kept her arms crossed for the bulk of the evening, but every time she typed something on his laptop her arms unfolded, and he lost his train of thought. He might have been better off just working alone tonight. Who knew that Catalina Flores had a body like that.
Chapter Five
Catalina
Catie was sitting across from Everett in his massive office. Their was no desk between them, and Everett's hand was trailing up the side of Catie's leg, to the hem of her skirt. She looked down at his fingers, her heart heaving in her chest. He looked into her eyes, and Catie wanted to say yes. To beg him to keep going. She spread her thighs slightly, letting his hand wander farther, but he didn't move her skirt. He pulled her chair toward him, making her legs split more, resting on either side of his.
"Pull up your skirt." He ordered her like he was ordering her to make a phone call or fire someone. Her stomach twisted and she obeyed, licking her bottom lip and not breaking his eye contact. She was so wet there was no way she could hide the dark pool gathering in her panties.
"Show me," he commanded again.
With trembling fingers, Catie pulled the small strip of fabric away from her pussy and let her boss stare at her. Let him see how turned on she was just from his words.
"Yes." The word came out like a hiss, and Everett's eyes were locked on Catie's exposed pussy. He ran one finger lightly up her opening, spreading her juice up and over her clit, circling the wetness there. Catie let out a groan. He toyed with her, his finger sliding back and forth from her clit to her hot center, pushing against her opening without entering her.
"How long have you wanted to fuck me?"
Catie couldn't speak. Her breathing had gone ragged, and it was all she could do to stay in a sitting position.
He stopped and pulled away. Catie moved herself closer to the edge of her chair, vainly trying to find Everett's hand again.
"Please," she begged.
"How long?"
She was biting her lip and desperate for him to touch her again. She moved her hand to touch herself, she couldn't bear the lack of friction now, but Everett grabbed her wrist and held it too hard. His steel gray eyes stared into hers.
"How long?"
Still, she resisted. She couldn't let him know how long she'd wanted to fuck him. He couldn't know that she'd had endless nights of wet dreams.
"Since forever. Since the fist day. Please, Everett, please."
He slipped his hand back to her pussy, and this time he plunged his fingers all the way inside her. She screamed out in pleasure.
He pulled her to her feet and bent her over his desk, ripping her panties down, and pulling out his cock. He didn't ease into her with it, he just gave it to her. He gave it all to her in one hard thrust.
He grunted, and she moaned like there was no one else in the office who could hear her. She moaned louder than she did in real life. And Everett matched the intensity of her moaning with the intensity of his thrusting. Sliding his cock slowly out of her only to ram it back in again. Over and over until Catie was on the edge, feeling like she was about to burst. Everett's hands dug into her hips as he held her tighter, and she let go. She let herself go completely.
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck me. Everett. Yes." She couldn't stop the profanities from flying. She had never come this hard, and all she wanted was more of his cock. She felt him release, and as he collapsed on top of her, his body sweaty, she felt herself come down from her high. Everett kissed her shoulder and then her neck, brushing back her ruined hair and kissing along her face. It was such a delectably sweet moment, but then Catie woke up, and panic seized her.
#
Catie blinked her eyes and looked around the room. She knew exactly where she was. Shit, shit.
She'd just had a wet dream about her boss in the man's living room. Why was this her reality? The room was dark, and she blinked again, trying to get them to adjust. She had to get out of there before Everett woke up. Even if he didn't know what had happened, she was sure he would be able to tell just by looking at her. And even if he couldn't, she absolutely could not look at him. She hadn't had one of those wicked dreams in months. She thought her subconscious had gotten over its obsession of sleeping with Everett Bowen, but apparently not. It seemed that falling asleep on his couch got her subconscious all kinds of worked up. That dream was vivid. She still tingled thinking about it and blushed a furious red at the thought that there was even the slightest possibility that Real Her had made any kind of noise while Dream Her was coming. Oh God. Just the thought. She had to get out of there. She needed to find her phone and her purse and get the hell out! She pushed the dream from her mind as she flung the blanket off of herself. She didn't remember having a blanket. But then again, she barely remembered falling asleep. They'd worked so late.
Everett's couch was impossibly sleek. A smooth, black leather with a seat that titled slightly back. She maneuvered herself over the edge, trying to use the one small sliver of light that was poking through the curtains to scour the floor. She spied a small, boxy shadow that could be her cell phone across the room. She angled for a better position and moved her torso too far forward, shifting too much of her weight off the couch and falling in a tumble to the ground. Shit, that was loud. She froze, straining to hear any movement coming from the bedroom. The only thing worse than having to look Everett in the eye and make small talk was to have him come out here and find her splayed out on his white carpet, crushing the fibers that his maid probably painstakingly fluffed daily with a fork.
She crawled on the ground, across the room, and toward Everett's bedroom door where she had thought she had seen the phone. She felt around the carpet along the way, just in case. She found her dress, crumbled in a dark heap next to her purse. She was going to have to wear that thing home. In the light of day. She cringed at the implication. Making her way home from Everett Bowen's apartment wearing a tight black dress and heels. She was going to do the walk of shame and she didn't even get any. Dreams didn't count. Gina had reminded her of that often enough.
Her fingertips grazed the cool metal of the phone. She let out a sigh of relief, her shoulder muscles relaxing as she inched her fingers over the phone and slid it closer, wrapping her hand all the way around it.
The overhead light flicked on, and Catie froze in her tracks. She looked up to Everett's bedroom door, expecting to be peering at his feet, but it was still closed. Craning her head around, she found the source of the light. Everett was standing in the front doorway of the apartment with a half-smile, more of a smirk. A single dimple appeared in his left cheek. A half-moon of boyish impishness that broke his executive armor. It felt like a little prize any time she made him smile. Catie had dreamed about licking that dimple.
She'd been crawling around on the ground, and he wasn't even home. Everett had two coffee cups and a bag of something that was leaving little grease spots on the paper.
"What are you doing down there?" Everett asked, looking down over the coffee table. Her ass probably looked huge in this position. She sprang up from the ground and brushed herself off.
"Nothing."
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"I was just looking for my phone."
"Wouldn't that have been easier with the lights on?" His eyes dropped just for a second from her face, and she remembered that she was wearing his T-shirt. Without a bra. She crossed her arms over her chest.
"I ...." He could have just let her get away with the "looking for her phone" line. But no. Everett didn't let people get away with things. "I didn't want to wake you." The sentence came out too quickly--over-
compensating for how long it took her to find an excuse.
"You weren't going to sneak out on me, where you, Catalina? It's not like we slept together or anything."
Fire burst on Catie's cheeks. No slow burn or creeping blush. Just instant, red-hot fire and the image from her dream burning in her mind. Her bent over Everett's desk. Oh God. She had to get out of there.
"No," she stammered. "Well, maybe. Yes. I was going to sneak out so I didn't wake you. And I really have to go. I'm running late."
Everett placed the coffee and pastry bag on the white, diamond-speckled countertop and walked over to the windows, drawing back the curtains and letting early morning sunlight filter through the floor to ceiling windows.
"It's barely after seven in the morning. What could you possibly be late for?"
She racked her mind. Brunch? Church? The farmers' market? There was literally nothing she could be late for this early on a Saturday. Except for meeting up with her dignity. It was impatiently waiting for her at home.
Everett pulled two square, white plates from his cupboard and put them down on a hightop table in a nook just off his kitchen. It looked out over the whole city. Everett must have felt as though he lived his life in the clouds. Floating from work to home and back again. Living above all the chaos and just sitting on a perch, observing it all. He was looking at her now, like she was a curious animal in the wild. His eyes were slightly squinted, like he didn't know what to expect from her. It wasn't a look she was familiar with.
"I have disgusting black coffee. Hot and bitter, just like you like it." Her coffee cup was on the side of the plate now, and he was bringing croissants out of the bag. Way too many for the two of them, but they looked flaky and delicious--drizzled with chocolate, flaked with cheese, topped with almond slivers. She remembered that she'd never actually eaten dinner last night as her stomach rumbled an audible complaint to stay.
"See. Your body wants you to stay."
The heat burned in her cheeks again. He had no idea the things her body wanted.
"I guess I can skip my thing," she said, trying to hold onto her lie.
Everett narrowed his eyes at her, and his lips tightened in mock seriousness. "I really appreciate you doing that for me."
Catie rolled her eyes at him. The hightop chair, white and sleek with a half back that matched the rest of the clean lines in his apartment, was surprisingly comfortable.
Everett had already stuffed a sizable chunk of ham and cheese croissant in his mouth when Catie ripped into an almond one, the dough peeling off in strips revealing a custardy center. She popped a bit into her mouth, and her eyes went wide as her saliva glands went into overdrive.
"Oh my God," she said, covering her mouth to talk. "That is so good." She looked at the croissant like she couldn't believe it was the same thing that was in her mouth. That any croissant could have that much flavor to it.
"I know." Everett was nodding his head. "I might have to move because I'm developing an addiction. I'm not so sure that's powdered sugar on the top of yours there." His finger was pointing while moving in little circles, and he flicked some sugar off her pastry.
"Hey, back off, you've got your own." She pulled the croissant away from his prodding hand.
"Yeah, but the almond ones are my favorite."
"Then I guess you should have taken the almond one."
"But then you wouldn't have gotten try it."
She slid the half of the croissant that was still on her plate over to him and he reciprocated, sliding his plate toward her with what was left of his savory pastry.
"The ham and cheese is pretty good, too." He licked his fingers before picking up the sweet croissant. He bulged his eyes and took an obscenely large bite, leaving just a small piece between his fingertips. A few flakes of crust sprayed out of Catie's full mouth as she failed at stifling a puff of laughter. Which made Everett laugh and cough through gritted teeth as he tried to swallow the rest of his bite.
His phone buzzed and he answered it, still smiling.
"Hello," he coughed out. The smile faded from him face, his dimple blending back into his cheek, smooth and professional again. And then his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed into a scowl.
Chapter Six
Everett
"I'll be there in five." Everett threw down his phone and pushed back from the table. "Get dressed, we have to go in to the office."
"It's Saturday."
Everett didn't answer her. He strode quickly to his bedroom, grabbed his briefcase, but didn't bother to change into a suit. He was trying to suppress the panicked feeling rising in his stomach and up to his throat. Jesus, this was bad. One dumb mistake may have just put his business, his future, and the environment at stake. Muscles clenched in his jaw at the thought of it.
No, this was something they could deal with. He could fix this. With Catalina's help, he could fix this.
"Why are you just standing there?" He was shoving his computer into his bag and grabbing the sheets of notes that were spread around the living room.
Catalina stood in the middle of the apartment letting Everett spin around her.
"I can't go in like this. I'm going home. I'm going to shower and change. I'll meet you there in an hour."
"No. I'll send someone for clothes. You can shower in my private bathroom, if you must. But I need you right now."
Catalina put her hands on her hips, still refusing to move. The sight of her stillness just made Everett more jittery with energy. "I came running when you asked last night, I interrupted a date for it. But I'm not doing this again unless you tell me what's going on."
He considered Catalina for a long moment. "One of the interns filed a sexual harassment lawsuit."
The color drained from Catalina's face, and she closed her eyes.
"This is my fault." Her hands were clenched at her sides.
Everett paused in his frenzy. "It's not your fault."
"I do the exit interviews. I should have known if this was going to happen and dealt with it. If there's a lawsuit, it means I failed at my job."
"You're not clairvoyant. It's a miracle we've gone this long without having any incidents." Everett had gotten cocky with how smoothly the interns had come and gone, and now he felt blindsided by getting hit with a fear he'd long ago forgotten.
Catalina grabbed her crumpled dress off the floor and ran into the bathroom. Changing faster than Superman, she emerged from the bathroom looking hot as hell. Everett couldn't waste time staring at her, they didn't have time for him to ogle her. He called for a car, his eyes not leaving her. She was standing straight and tall--she was back to the professional and competent Work Catalina that got shit done. She had her cell phone out and was typing something into an email. She was probably contacting the rest of the Bowen Enterprises lawyers or looking up the top ten tips for keeping an intern quiet. He didn't know how Catalina seemed to be an expert in everything, but she did. He imagined that she had access to her own secret brotherhood that was constantly at the ready with a how-to list for any outlandish or inane project he gave her.
He should have been the one so competent. He, after all, did have a secret brotherhood. The Billionaire Bear Brotherhood, or B3, as they were known to the public. They were a tightly-knit network of bear shifters. He'd gotten all of the initial funding for his business by being in B3. The last hundred dates he'd been on were set up through their matchmaking service. That's where he worked out and how he got into exclusive events. But even though he knew he could call on them for anything, he usually called on Catalina instead.
The private elevator leading to and from his penthouse pinged, and Catalina strode in without looking up from her phone.
"Which intern?" she asked, clicking off the phone and looking directly at Everett. Catalina's face was blank, and she didn't betray any hint of disapproval in her voice, but it didn't keep Everett from feeling guilty. He wanted to tell Catalina that he hadn't slept with her, that it was a wrongful lawsuit. But of course
, it wasn't. Other than Catalina, they'd never had an intern he hadn't slept with. This was just the first one who had sued.
He looked into Catalina's unblinking eyes after a long pause and answered, "Mandy."
Catalina's head leaned forward and her jaw dropped. "Mandy? Mandy, the petite blonde who never wore underwear and bent so far over your desk that I actually saw her nipple slip out of her dress? Mandy, who's cooter I could pick out of a line up?"
"Yeah," Everett said, his head dipped so that Catalina wouldn't see the smile creeping on his face. Even though she was chiding him, he couldn't help but be amused. "That Mandy."
"Well, at least we know it'll be difficult for her to claim non-consent." Everett flinched at the word. He may have slept with his share of women, but there was never, ever any question of whether or not it was consensual.
"I saw that flinch," Catalina said brusquely. "You are not allowed to flinch. This mess is your fault. As your lawyer, I will never, ever say that again. But you have been asking for this lawsuit. Just because a woman works for you and wears a short skirt, that does not mean you have leave to sleep with her."
Catalina had never been that direct with him about his behavior. He couldn't miss her downturned mouth and disapproving scowls when the latest intern spent a long lunch in his office, but she'd never actually said anything. Instead, she begged him to hire someone with substance every time they were considering a new intern. And yeah, she'd once told him point blank not to hire whatever skirt he was chasing, but she'd never actually admonished him.
He'd wanted to explain to Catalina more than once the reason behind all his late night and early morning and mid afternoon escapades. He wanted to tell her that he was looking for his soulmate. That the only way for him to know who he was supposed to be with was to sleep with them. That's how it worked in the shifter world, and he didn't have time to be choosey. It was a lot easier to bed a girl and know if she was the one than it was to get to know someone and decide if you liked them. He wanted a mate. A partner. He just didn't have the luxury of time. He did have the luxury of a secret brotherhood with no end of sexy women to date and a business that hired young co-eds. There were millions of women in the city alone, yet only one in the entire world was his. He wasn't going to be one of those old shifters who died alone in the woods desperate to be surrounded by nature and unwilling to be in a populated area long enough to find his mate. The more women he slept with, the more likely he would find her.