by Olivia Myers
Which is when he registered the fact that he hadn’t taken any precautions at all. Rhys blinked down at the glistening moisture clinging to his skin, the faint traces of the cum he’d flooded her with.
“Shit.” He tucked himself away, feeling his throat heat with embarrassment and shame. “Ms —” He stumbled over what to call her, awkward now as he realized just how badly he’d screwed up.
“Cassandra, I… uh… Are you on The Pill?” Rhys forced the words out through lips that still stung from the force of their kissing, heart hammering for an entirely different reason. There was the pill, and then there was ‘The Pill’, also known as Formula 426. It was birth control specially designed to be resistant to shifter sperm, their fertility being what it was.
Dragons were notoriously potent, which was why Rhys had never, ever forgotten to take every precaution available to prevent unwanted conception.
How could he have forgotten now?!
Cassandra’s flush, which had begun to fade from her milky skin, returned in a wash of coral. Her eyes slid to the side and she worried her swollen lower lip.
“Don’t worry,” she said after a moment. She straightened slowly, shoulders back as she drew her rumpled blouse over her bare skin. He mourned the loss of the sight of her luscious breasts even as he appreciated her making it easier for him to focus on the matter at hand.
She met his gaze with emerald eyes. “I started taking Four-Two-Six when I first came to work at Chimera. Just in case.”
Just in case she slept with one of her shifter co-workers. Warren employed a lot of them.
The thought made Rhys’s lip curl back from his teeth, but he swallowed the snarl that accompanied it. Territorial aggression was useless at the moment.
“Good,” he ground out instead. “That’s good.”
He took another step back, lifting hands that shook slightly to redo the buttons of his shirt that Cassandra had practically clawed open earlier in her haste to touch him.
Despite the monumental orgasm he’d just had minutes before, the mere memory of her touch made it twitch.
He dropped his eyes from her flushed face and concentrated on smoothing his clothing. It was useless, really. He could make himself look like nothing had happened fairly easily, but he was still drowning in her scent. In the scent of them together.
Rhys scowled.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Cassandra finish buttoning her own shirt and hop off the edge of her desk. She nervously tugged her skirt down, covering the triangle of wet blonde curls above the dark pink lips of her pussy.
He was surprised when she cleared her throat and began to speak.
“Once again, I find myself needing to apologize for my unprofessional behavior, Mr. Maddox.”
Rhys’s head snapped up at the embarrassed, slightly wobbly tone of her voice. She stood much as she had that first day, hands knotted in front of her, eyes on the floor between their feet. Only this time, her lips were swollen from his kisses, her gleaming blonde hair was mussed from his hands, and she smelled not only of peaches and cream but lust and him.
“What?”
He hadn’t meant to snap the word, but she flinched anyway. He couldn’t believe how perfectly ridiculous this morning was going. From surly and aroused, to just aroused, to experiencing the most earth-shattering sex of his life, to…
Honestly, he wasn’t even entirely sure what was happening now.
He’d meant to be the one apologizing, reassure her that what had just happened had no bearing on her job, and then make sure she understood that it would not be happening again.
No matter how much that last thought made his beast grumble in his chest.
“I know you’re aware of the effect you have on women, sir. I just think, perhaps, neither one of us was prepared for how, um… potent you are in terms of, well, me.”
Her cheeks were bright pink. Rhys stared down at them, trying to understand. She was talking as if she’d attacked him. He snorted, drawing her gaze to his face.
“I assure you —” Little rabbit, his beast whispered. “Ms. O’Hare, you once again have nothing to apologize for.”
“But —”
He cut her off with the slash of his hand. “There were two of us here just now, in case you need reminding.” He lifted one brow and was rewarded with the upward curl of her lips.
Rhys almost reached for her, to pull her back into his arms and kiss that mouth again. His beast practically purred at the thought before the rational, human part of his mind asked him just what in the hell he was doing. She was still his employee, at least for the moment, and he still didn’t do relationships.
Looking down into Cassandra’s heart-shaped face, he knew she was the type who’d want a relationship. She didn’t normally fuck her boss on top of her desk. He’d bet his considerable fortune on that. She probably had gentle, caressing, languid sex in bed. She no doubt called it “making love.”
And she deserved that. He wasn’t such an ass as to think she didn’t, or that it didn’t exist. It just wasn’t for him. Which she needed to know. He braced himself for tears, or anger. (Not a lawsuit though, not Cassandra.) He sighed. He no doubt deserved both for giving in to his own selfish desires.
Warren was going to kick his ass.
He coughed. “That being said, I should apologize.”
Cassandra’s brow furrowed, but he continued.
“I’m your boss, even if only temporarily, and I shouldn’t have crossed that line no matter how tempting —”
He cut himself off before he went down that road. The last thing he needed was to start thinking about how tempting she was. He’d have her back on the desk if he did that. In his desperation to keep from blurting out just how very much he wanted her, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“Even if I wasn’t your boss, I shouldn’t have given in to this. You’re a beautiful, sexy, interesting woman but I don’t do —”
“I understand. Sir.” Her voice was steady as she interrupted his rambling and when he met her gaze, her eyes were dry. She even smiled, though it was nothing like any of her nervous smiles.
It was wide and bright and reminded him of how Bridget used to smile at him. It hadn’t looked fake on her, but it looked all wrong on Cassandra’s round face. He scowled as she scooted around him and plucked her bra from the back of her chair.
“This was a momentary lapse on both our parts. Understandable, but over. We have a professional relationship, nothing more. Do you mind if I use your washroom? I’ll need to clean up.”
He blinked at her, his brain still sluggish with the aftereffects of that orgasm. It took a minute to process her words. Or, some of them anyway. He swept his hand at the open door to his office, and the washroom beyond.
“Of course. Feel free.”
Her smile didn’t falter at all as she gave him a brief nod and turned on her heel. (When had she put her shoes back on?)
“I’ll be just a minute and then we can see what needs to be rearranged for your afternoon.”
Rhys scowled at her back as she slipped from the room, not sure what to do with the sensation burning under his ribs.
She was being perfectly reasonable. No anger or tears or recriminations. And despite how wrong the smile was, he didn’t smell anger or fear or upset on her now. She still only smelled of herself, and him, and spent lust.
His beast, the green and gold behemoth always lurking under his skin, shifted in dissatisfaction.
He should be pleased. He was pleased. He’d gotten everything he wanted without there being any negative consequences. So why was his dragon threatening to tear through his flesh?
Rhys stomped into his office, threw open the washroom door, and glared at the steam billowing from behind the shower curtain.
“Cancel the rest of my day. I’m going flying.”
The words were more of a guttural grunt than anything, but he knew she heard him because of the sing-songed, “Yes, sir!” that drifted out.
>
He didn’t even bother stripping off the several thousand dollars’ worth of bespoke suit before shifting and launching himself from the edge of the balcony and into the air.
***
Cassandra hummed as she hit ‘Send’ on the email Rhys had asked her to make sure Martin in Accounting got before ten.
Well, ‘asked’ was putting it nicely. More like commanded from on high.
She couldn’t figure out the sexy, enigmatic CEO. More than just being part man, part dragon, Rhys Maddox seemed to have multiple personalities.
For the first week after the bone-melting encounter on her very own desk, he’d alternated between being stilted and overly polite and broodingly snappish. She knew he was unsure how to take her acceptance that nothing more would happen between them.
Cassandra didn’t think he’d overstepped a line. At no point in their encounter had she even thought about him stopping, let alone attempted to get him to do so. There had, as he’d said when she’d attempted to apologize, been the two of them there, after all.
And she may have only known him a few weeks at that point, but she knew he wasn’t the type to use his position in the company to control her or coerce her in any way. If she’d been a permanent employee, people might have attempted to complain about him picking favorites, except as his assistant she already got the highest non-management salary and benefit package regardless of whether she slept with him or not.
It’s not like he’d hired her because they were sleeping together.
Which they weren’t. It was just that one time. That one, amazing, toe-curling, never-t0-be-forgotten (or, likely, topped) time.
She could accept that, though. Not that she was super thrilled by the prospect. Not that she wouldn’t love to feel him inside her, hot and hard and driving, again. She would. She’d love to do that, and more, with her gorgeous, scary, and possibly a little insane boss.
But he was Rhys Maddox and Rhys Maddox didn’t get involved with, well, anyone, really.
She’d initially been embarrassed when he’d first stepped away from her and left her cold and naked and wet on top of her desk. It hadn’t helped matters when he’d asked about birth control and she realized she hadn’t even thought about asking him to wear a condom (which was monumentally stupid and reckless and something she’d never done before). She’d practically thrown herself at him the second he kissed her.
The embarrassment faded when he said he’d been just as carried away as she had.
Then, when she realized he was trying to explain that it was a one-time thing, there had still been a little embarrassment, sure. And definitely some regret that it wouldn’t be happening again.
But, Cassandra figured, lots of incredible things only happened to a person once. Winning the lottery, meeting your absolute idol, and having crazy hot sex on your desk with your smoking shifter boss, apparently.
She wasn’t about to wallow. She’d known what kind of man Rhys Maddox was every step of the way. Cassandra O’Hare might have been terrified of dragons, but she was no fool.
Which was another thing to rejoice about. It seemed that her skin-t0-skin encounter with the sexy dragon CEO had cured her of her irrational fear of his kin. She’d had to interact with several other elders from Rhys’s clan over the last several weeks, and not one of them had caused that freezing panic she’d experienced on her first day in Rhys’s office.
Of course, being in his presence still made her go a bit quivery, but the fear was more that she’d let on how very much she still desired him and make him feel uneasy.
“Is everything set for the party tonight?”
He didn’t even bother with the intercom, standing instead in the doorway between their offices to glower at her. She smiled in response. Partly because it was her standard professional smile, and partly because even frowning and looming, he still made her mouth curl.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Maddox. The caterers will be arriving at six to begin prep. Melinda and her crew will be done cleaning by five-thirty at the latest.”
It had taken his housekeeper and her assistants almost two full days to clean his enormous home in the Catskills. Cassandra had been there the night before, watching the industrious older woman bustle around issuing orders, and knew it would gleam like the jewel that is was when his guests arrived tonight.
It was just a small soiree, dinner and drinks for about thirty people in celebration of BurningStone’s record first quarter profits. Tonight, Rhys and the rest of the board would begin discussing which charities would be receiving what he referred to as “the excess cash.”
“And you, Ms. O’Hare?”
Cassandra shivered a little, remembering how he’d called her his ‘little rabbit’ when he was inside of her. She kept her chin up, however, and met his gaze.
“I’ll be leaving here in two hours, Mr. Maddox, as planned.”
She’d take the company helicopter up to his estate to oversee the last minute preparations. She was actually quite excited to see them. She’d never gotten to plan anything quite so grand working for Mr. Stebbins.
Rhys only grunted, spun on his heel, and strode back into his office. The door thunked closed behind him.
It hadn’t been left open a single time since that day.
For a little while, she’d thought they’d moved past the initial awkwardness. He’d seemed to relax around her once again. For two whole weeks, they’d worked together easily and companionably; they’d even shared a few lunches while planning the first quarter dinner with no problems apart from a few lingering glances or sudden silences.
She was still attracted to him, of course. And it was nice to know he was attracted to her as well. But she respected his wishes and sought to maintain a friendly but professional demeanor. She’d succeeded brilliantly, too—at least, it felt that way to her.
Rhys didn’t seem to agree, though. After one particularly potent moment at lunch where their knees had brushed under the table and it was clear both of them were remembering exactly how it had felt to touch a lot more than knees, things had once again become difficult.
Cassandra had immediately apologized for the accidental touch, but Rhys had grown distant and cold, and that was how he’d remained for the last month.
He wasn’t mean or cruel. He didn’t treat her badly. Even being autocratic and barking orders, barely acknowledging her efforts with a nod, he was still a nicer boss than Mr. Stebbins.
Still, she wished for the relaxed atmosphere of those two weeks, when he’d joked with her about her love of kung-fu movies, and she’d teased him about his fear (yes, fear—the great dragon shifter was afraid!) of rats.
For that brief period of time, she’d not just liked her job, she’d loved it. She’d even kind of secretly hoped Rhys might ask Warren if he could keep her.
But then she realized how dangerous that type of thinking was and shut it down. Soon, he would find a permanent replacement for Bridget and Cassandra would go back to Chimera and the only time she would see Rhys Maddox’s face anymore would be in the Life & Style section of the newspaper.
It sucked, and she would miss him more than she’d like to admit, but she was a big girl and she’d decided to just live in the moment. Like their explosive encounter, her time as his assistant was a one-time thing. Golden and not to be forgotten, but not forever.
Two hours later, she packed up her things, called a brief, “See you later! Fly safe!” (to which she got only a grunt in response) and headed across town to the helipad.
There was a landing pad on the Chimera building’s roof, but since so many of the employees were shifters who could fly on their own power, it was rarely used. Cassandra didn’t mind either the crosstown cab ride or the bumpy, noisy flight upstate. Both gave her time to run over all the last minute details for the party.
As Rhys’s assistant, she would not actually be sitting down to the formal dinner, but she’d be on the premises the entire time to make sure everything went off without a hitch. He’d assured
her that he didn’t expect that, but since it was her first real event, she’d insisted.
Cassandra stepped into the sweeping stone entryway of Rhys’s mansion, marveling at the beauty of it. She’d expected more opulence like what she’d seen at the BurningStone offices the first time she’d been to Rhys’s home, and was surprised.
Not that it wasn’t gorgeous. And there were definite touches of the lavish tastes of the dragon shifter in the gleaming crystal chandeliers and priceless artwork. But for a mansion, especially one owned by a disgustingly rich dragon, the décor was understated and comfortable with a lot of warm tones and inviting furniture groupings.
It was, without a doubt, the den of a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. But it was also apparent that he enjoyed sharing those things with company.
Cassandra tried not to think of Rhys having private company of the female variety here. It sent a distressing pang through her belly. Instead, she squared her shoulders and turned to face the short, bony woman who hurried forward with a broad grin on her face.
“Melinda,” Cassandra said with a genuine smile. “Let’s see how things are going, shall we?”
***
“To the best quarter at BurningStone yet!” Miles Dearden raised his glass of port in a toast. “And many more to come.”
Rhys clinked his glass against Miles’s, the smile on his face faint, though his satisfaction with their quarterly earnings was genuine.
“Hear, hear.”
Chelsea Thomas, one of his most trusted Senior Analysts, twirled her glass in her jewel-bedecked fingers. “Speaking of best yet, Rhys, I really must commend you on this little shindig. I might just need to steal the name of your caterer.”
Several other people chimed in with their praise as well. The tight feeling that had been living in his chest for nearly two months grew sudden teeth. He tried not to let it show on his face.
“Same caterer as always, Chels.”
Her penciled brows bobbed up. “Really?”
“Mm-hm.”
Miles’s wife tilted her head, long silver lashes fluttering in surprise. “They remembered I’m lactose intolerant this time.”