by TC Matson
“I want something catchy and easy to remember without being cheesy,” Easton says, explaining he needs a great marketing strategy and tagline.
The room falls silent to the crickets and frustration laces the wrinkles between his brows. I mean, this is his marketing team. They should be spitting out ideas like the ringing of the stock market bell.
“What about security ensuring your safety?” My thoughts fly out my mouth and all eyes flick to me. Suddenly, I feel like sinking underneath the seat’s cushion. Both of Easton’s brows raise and the corner of his lips have a slight tic. “You’re supposed to be safe in your own home, but people don’t feel like they are. They’re still afraid. Tweak it so it’ll work as a reminder they’re safe in your hands.” I shrug, trying to ease off my discomfort of being out of my league. I couldn’t sell hand warmers to an Eskimo. Besides, knowing me, I probably just plucked that from a commercial I’ve heard and am about to get fired for plagiarism or trademark intrusion.
“Find out if it’s taken. I like the sound of it,” he orders to Chris.
He peers back at me with a fascinated smile, and it sends a buzzing warmth to flow over my skin. It lingers for a second—a ghost peek—and then he’s back to business, explaining how different the functionality is and how they’re moving from buttons to touchscreen, which will eliminate most of his old panels.
He describes the easy-to-activate panic button integrated on the home screen, but something doesn’t sound right to me.
“If it’s easy, won’t you experience accidental emergency calls?” I interrupt.
He shifts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I asked the very question. The developer stated we had a few different options to choose from. One being a tap, where the individual would have to press it X number of times before activating the emergency call. The other option is a long press for a certain amount of time.”
“As a female, a long press during an emergency would feel like an eternity if I was panicking, therefore it would more than likely be abandoned. But tapping it would be easier with hands that are already shaking. Maybe in quick succession?”
Heat creeps up my neck causing my skin to prickle from his grin. I shift slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building between my legs.
He continues, but I’m gone, lost in the heat. My focus is no longer on his words or work. It’s him.
He ditched his suit jacket and stripped from his tie moments before the meeting, leaving him in only a crisp white dress shirt with his cuffs rolled up to his forearms and his black slacks. His chest is impressive, not matching my idea of what a CEO would look like. Instead, it’s large, wide, muscly, and it tapers down to slim hips. His arms look strong and safe, enticing as they offer protection and warmth, like they’d hold you with ease as he makes love to you.
He takes small steps in one direction, and then the other, gracefully dominating his area. His lips are appetizing as they round each word they form, his tongue occasionally sliding across to wet them. His eyes are a dazzling green, penetrating when they land on you. You could fall into them as they drink you up and hold you hostage. I bet with the mood right, there’s no refusing him. His—
“Miss Campbell…”
My name rips me from the fantastic visions and I come slamming back to earth with a small jump and staring into a set of very knowing eyes. Mortification shatters me.
“Can you grab some waters?” His tone is alluring. “Cold waters, please.”
Oh, my God. I want to vanish into the tiles of the floor.
I nod without voice or eye contact, too embarrassed that once again, I’ve been busted gawking him. On trembling legs, I rush into his closet and grab several waters. With shaking hands, I pass them out. Conveniently, the food delivery chimes and I rush the hell out to get it. The catering staff follows me back into the very room I need to escape from and lays out the platters on the table before leaving.
I escort them back to the elevators and then sneak into the bathroom.
Me: I just got busted completely ogling Easton BY EASTON!!
Britney: LOL Please tell me you two were alone???
Me: I couldn’t be that lucky. It was in the middle of a meeting with twelve other people.
Britney: You’re in the bathroom?”
Being friends for so long, she knows I need the cold water.
Me: Yes.
Seconds later my phone rings.
“He doesn’t know what you were thinking of. You could’ve been dreaming about Channing Tatum’s fine ass. I wouldn’t sweat it,” she tries calming me down.
“Oh. He knows. The way he looked at me. God, Brit. He sent me for cold waters. I can’t believe this.” I drop my face into my hand.
She’s cackling. “He’s used to women checking him out. I bet you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you should be.”
“I’m his assistant, Brit.”
“Go back in there and own it. So what you checked him out. He’s hot as hell and he damn well knows it. There’s isn’t a woman alive who hasn’t snuck a peek at his sexy existence.” She pauses. “Just think of all the women in the world who have crushes on their bosses, except they have old and wrinkly balls. Go in there and picture him having those. Betcha that will keep you from fantasizing.”
I laugh. “Do not ruin my visions.”
“Then be proud he’s drop dead gorgeous and you get to work right beside him. He could stink and smell like moth balls. He could be grumpy and like to yell with horrible breath.”
I inhale. “I’ll call you later and tell you how I survived this. I’ve got to go back in there.”
We hang up and I place my hands under the ice-cold water in an attempt to cool myself the hell down.
It doesn’t work.
Slowly. Reluctantly. Placing one heavy foot in front of the other, I make my way back into the meeting. I stick toward the back of the room as I go to my seat. I do everything in my power not to look at him, scared he’ll only confirm he knows exactly what I thinking. I doodle while listening, keeping my eyes peeled on the paper, and occasionally jot down something that makes it to my ears that seems important. Everyone around me has made a plate to eat, but I’ve lost my appetite.
Thirty minutes later, he dismisses the meeting and I’m on my feet and out the door in a flash. I’m not sticking around to talk…to face him. I don’t care if he needs anything, nor do I give a crap about anyone else right now. I need to get the hell out of here immediately.
I toss my notebook on my desk, snatch up my purse, and slip into the elevator crammed with other employees.
This has to pass. Hopefully sooner rather than later. I can’t be crushing on my boss. I’ll end up losing my job.
The moment I shove into my apartment, my phone buzzes and dread fills me, worried it’ll be Easton calling me out again and ready to blast me for my unprofessional gawking…
Randy: I know you’re tired. You’ve been running through my mind all day.
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Surely he doesn’t think that was good?
Me: This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in you or having a relationship.
Screw it. I’m already having a bad day. Might as well go out with a bang.
Randy: Was it the cheesy line? Sorry. I’ll take it back.
Me: It wasn’t. I just don’t have the time to date. Sorry again.
My phone falls silent and I drop face first to my bed.
Today has sucked…
Zoey
Yesterday, Easton was a no show. He texted me early in the morning to let me know he wouldn’t be in. Still dwelling on the humiliation, I didn’t care to inquire the reason why since his calendar was empty. I was happy to not have to look him in the eye.
Then this morning, he came in, said a quick impassive good morning, and shut the door. When I stuck my head in and brought him more coffee, he was on the phone and didn’t acknowledge me.
He never emerged from his office for lunch a
nd now that the day has passed and it’s quitting time, I swallow my pride and knock on his door. He’s sitting behind his desk, jacket and tie are gone, the top buttons of his navy shirt undone. My heart leaps at the sexiness but cramps at how stressed he looks.
“I’m heading out. Do you need anything?” I ask quietly.
“No. Thank you.” He doesn’t look up.
“Don’t stick around too long. Everyone needs a break,” I say and then shut the door.
As I wait for the elevator, sympathy begins chewing through me. When the doors swoosh open, the feeling becomes a full-fledge boulder on my chest. I sigh and turn back.
“What do you need help with?” I ask, dropping my purse on the couch.
“Nothing.” His eyes are as grumpy as he sounds.
I cross my arms across my chest. “What can I help you with?”
He raises an irked brow. “Go home, Zoey.”
My courage is high, coursing through me as I park my courageous ass on the couch like some sort of protest. “You can either let me help or I’m holding down the couch and keeping you company. Either way, it’s better than what I had planned. I’ll help or hinder. Your choice.”
He pushes away from his desk and steeples his fingers. His gaze is heavy with exhaustion mixed with vexation. I brace for the chastise. “What about your flower friend? Shouldn’t you have plans with him?”
I scrunch my nose and wave my hand dismissing the thought. “He’s not my type.”
“Even after flowers?”
“And two meals all while delving into how important role-playing games are in his life.” I pinch my face again. “Trust me. I’m not interested.”
He studies me, his eyes roaming my face. “Why are you single, Zoey?”
The question makes me snicker. I shrug. “I don’t know the answer to that. I seem to attract the weirdos, lameos, joblessos, and whatever O’s are left after that.”
He nods like he understands, but I know there is absolutely no way he knows what picking from the O list is like. He can be as picky as he’d like with all the women throwing themselves at him and never make it to the list.
“Go home to your pretend pregnant hamster. I’m almost done here,” he says and I swear I saw a slight tug on his lips. He almost smiled. Almost.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” I try again.
He pulls back up to his desk and glances at the papers. “Good night, Zoey.”
I grab my purse and when I reach of the door knob, he calls out.
“Are you taking the train?” There’s a sense of urgency under the composure.
“Unless there’s a car out there with a pretty bow on it, then yes,” I deadpan.
Dissatisfaction spreads across his expression. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried lightening the mood. “Let me take you home.” He stands.
“No!” I blurt in panic. “I mean, I’m fine. I’m good.” I rush out in a mess.
“Either I take you or I’ll call Clint. You’ve said yourself the weirdos come out at night and you just admitted you attract them all. I prefer you safe.” His hard lines crack as a smile stretches across his face. He spreads his arms to the side. “It’s in my blood.”
I chew my lip, my eyes wide. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this for years.” My insides are vibrating, but my voice streams out steadily. “Really. I’m fine, but thanks.”
Except I’m not fine. I’m trapped in the elevator with him. With the sexy smelling cologne that makes me want to grab him by his face and slam my lips on him. With his lustful body. With…him. All the things I don’t want to be this close to.
He gestures for me to lead the way and doesn’t speak as we stride down the hall and enter the parking garage. But once the large metal door clanks behind us, shutting out the rest of the building, he gently grasps the back of my elbow and ushers me to his fancy ass blue sports car that I’m sure costs more than my apartment rent for five years.
With his hand on my skin, I’m liquid. He opens the door and helps me in. The moment he shuts the door to walk around the car, I take a deep breath trying my best to quell the nervous lust brewing inside of me.
“Where to?” he asks with a devilish grin.
“Union City,” I mutter, suddenly feeling shy.
I’m sure he lives upscale and I’m in an unstylish apartment.
We drive in quiet with only the purrs of the engine and the sound of the wind flowing past the car for half of the trip before he breaks the silence. “Tell me again why you don’t have a car.”
“I’m in walking distance of almost everything. I don’t see the need for one.” It’s the truth even if it’s half a lie.
“What do you do if you want to take a trip outside of the city?”
“Rent a car,” I reply. “But I don’t travel often. Usually I visit my parents once a year.”
“You don’t feel strapped to the city because of it?” He peers at me out of the corner of his eye.
I shake my head. “I’ll get on a different train and go the opposite direction if I feel that way. Sometimes it helps to scuff up the scenery. You should try it.”
“I live downtown as well, but I still drive.”
“I see that,” I deadpan and it draws a chuckle out of him.
He pulls into the parking lot and starts to seek out a place to park. My nerves rush my every cell. The last thing I need is Easton Langley walking me to my door. “You’ve brought me home, Mr. Security. I’ve got it from here.”
I really need to work on not being so flirty.
“You sure?” His tone is laced with concern.
Our gazes meet and it feels like he’s just as unready to see me go as I am him. My body lights up, electricity crackling the air around us. There’s a tug…a lure. My spine buzzes with a magnetic pull that is becoming harder to resist. The image of his lips on mine flash behind my eyes. I blink away and quickly bound out of the car against my own desperate fantasies. As much as I want to, I don’t look back as I enter my building.
Easton
I’ve been flying across the damn country, meeting after business meeting, pursuing a few large jobs, only to come back and be cooped up in my office.
Aspire—it’s a multi-million-dollar contract and I’m determined to obtain it. I’ve been fervently putting together proposals, working with the developers to produce a product Aspire can’t refuse. I feel I’m on the brink of things since Aspire’s CEO, Mr. Roth, has called me twenty plus times in two weeks. He’s an awfully impatient man. Old-fashioned down to his bones. Business is competitive and he damn well enjoys reminding me of it. Vague threats…ones I overlook.
There’s a tap on my door and I sigh. Zoey’s been on my mind, an ache in my dick. I caught her absently staring at me like I was the very thing that got her off. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin flush, those sexy lips nibbling on the end of her pen. Talk about difficult to fight off the visions of my dick being that pen.
And then last week, we shared a look, one that caused energy to sear my skin as it sizzled around us. I was seconds away from reaching out and claiming her mouth when alarm spread across her face and she fled from me. No doubt she felt that shit too. Afterward, I went home and jerked off so fucking hard in hopes to get rid of all the desire. I should’ve known it wouldn’t do a damn thing. It only fueled me.
“Come in,” I call out.
Her beautiful long blonde hair is pulled back and braided. She’s in a gray skirt with an orange blouse flattering her skin color. She’s the very reason why I’ve been working outside of the office so much and if I’m here, I don’t stray far from my desk, worried I’ll cave to my desires.
“You’re staying late again?” she asks, her voice sugar on my ears.
“Yes.” I check my watch. Time, yet again, has gotten away from me. “Business never slows.”
“Aspire?” She approaches my desk looking down at the file.
I nod.
“Need any help?”
I despise th
ose words. They force me to stray into the depths of my own fantasies of fucking her on my desk, hearing how she sounds as she comes undone with my dick embedded in her.
“No,” I answer, praying this time she doesn’t stay. That’s a battle within itself.
She shifts and then walks to my closet. I try—not very hard—to keep my eyes off her ass, but they move involuntarily to her. My imagination strips her of her clothes, picturing smooth skin, the sexy curve of her hips, firm and pert tits, a smooth pussy. I shake my head trying to rid the image and adjust my dick.
She hands me a bottle of water. Oh, the irony. “Here. If I knew you had whiskey, I’d pour you a glass.”
I tip my chin. “It’s concealed in the bookshelf. Helps calm the nerves. Safer than drugs.”
“Want a glass?”
I’m most positive I do not need to drink while she’s here. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Miss Campbell?” I tease and her eyes go wide. I chuckle.
I watch her sexy ass move, her hips side to side as she walks to the couch. I bet it’s exceptional bare. Again, I rip my view off her and onto the designs of the new panel.
“How’d you start Langley Security?”
I glance up to curious eyes.
She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’ll save it for another day when you’re not so busy.”
I’m not ready for her to go. “By chance,” I answer and it stops her from leaving. I force back the triumphant smile and shove away from my desk. “One day my father and I had an ugly argument. Didn’t help I was sloshed and struggling with a horrific accounting class.”
Her head jerks back as surprise raises her brows. “You took accounting?”
“Requirement for a business degree. If it were up to me, whoever came up with the accounting rules should be nickeled to death on a freezing cold day.”
She laughs and it’s a damn beautiful sound.
“It escalated to a shoving match and spewing of hateful things. He had me against the wall by my collar and told me I’d never amount to anything in my pathetic little life. I stormed off after a few choice words. I was incredibly angry with him. I sobered up while wallowing in my self-pity. The same night a friend of mine’s apartment was broken into.”