Her Boss' Package: A Billionaire and Virgin Romantic Comedy

by Ruby Steele

  I'm so screwed. I can't keep working here, even though I worked so hard to get this internship. Tears blur my vision. I wipe them away, though, because I can't break down here.

  I'll just have to quit. I'll have to tell Jenny that I can't commit the time necessary for this internship. I'll apologize, get my stuff, and run far, far away.

  But by the time I manage to write my notice, Jenny has left for the afternoon and won't be back.

  I barely restrain myself from hitting my forehead against the wall in frustration. Maybe I could just...not come back tomorrow? That makes me wince. Jenny deserves better than that, and I shouldn't screw her over because I'm stupid enough to screw myself over.

  Ugh, I think I might really puke. I'm still hung over, my head's pounding, and I wish I could die of embarrassment. It would be less painful than sitting here, trying to get work done, when the man of my fantasies and nightmares is only down the hallway.

  Gabriel Carter. I groan inwardly. Why does he have to be so hot? With his dark hair and eyes, chiseled jaw, golden skin. HIs muscles bulging against his suit jacket, the way his white teeth flashed. How his voice was like velvet against my skin, how hot his fingers were against my own...

  I shiver. Get a hold of yourself. Fantasizing about my boss is how I got into this mess!

  That evening, I hole myself up in my room, not wanting to talk to Tiff or Beth. Neither of them knows what I did. Tiff was too drunk last night to remember my freakout over my phone, and Beth was already asleep when it happened. I try to get homework done, but it's no use.

  I can't concentrate on anything but Gabriel, those topless photos, and putting in my notice.

  The next morning, I have my notice printed out and in an envelope. Going to Jenny's office door, I knock. No one answers. I knock again. Nothing.

  "She's not here," Greta says. "She's sick, I think. The flu."

  My stomach churns. I can't wait another day—or week!—to put in my notice. "She's for sure not coming in?"

  Greta eyes me. "Totally sure. Why, what's up?"

  I shake my head. Greta, as Gabriel's assistant, is definitely the last person I want to confide in. I give her a weak smile. "It's nothing. It'll keep until she gets back."

  I tell myself I can wait until Jenny returns, but when I hear Gabriel's voice speaking to Greta, I know I can't wait. I can't hide out in my cubicle and hope he doesn't notice me. What if he figures out I was the one who sent those photos? I'll be fired on the spot. Panic swirls in my gut. If I get fired from this internship, then I'll have a hell of a time getting another one. I'd be better off quitting now and never looking back.

  I know what I have to do. I have to give Gabriel my notice instead.

  It takes me until it's almost five o'clock to get the courage to knock on his door. I'm close to fainting when I hear his deep voice say, "Come in!"

  I'm shaking. I'm very close to vomiting. My hands are clammy when I finally turn the knob and step inside his domain.

  His office reflects him: decorated in dark shades of wood and neutral colors, it's commanding. Intimidating. Masculine. It smells like cedar and spice. When I see Gabriel sitting at his desk, his suit jacket draped over a nearby chair and his shirtsleeves rolled up his forearms, my mouth goes dry.

  His arms are sprinkled with dark hair, and I can see the ropes of muscle from here. He pushes his fingers through his dark hair as he grimaces at something on his computer screen.

  When he looks up and sees it's me, that grimace transforms into a seductive smile.

  Whoosh. My stomach drops to my toes. I don't know how I'm still standing.

  "You can come in," he says casually, gesturing at me. "Unless you're afraid of coming into the lion's den?"

  Yes, I'm terrified. You'll eat me up in one gulp. Your dark eyes will hypnotize me and I'll be your prey—and I'll be begging you for it.

  I shuffle toward him. I'm stiff and awkward, and the envelope in my hand is definitely getting crinkled from my desperate grip.

  I try to find the words, the explanation, the apology, but the only thing that emerges from my throat is a squeak.

  I want to die. Right here, right now. And as Gabriel's eyes smolder with something I can't define, my body heats in response. It's such a strange mix of emotions that I can barely define one before another one takes its place.

  He rises from his chair, rather like a big cat getting up from a nap, and he leans against his desk, his arms crossed. Raising an eyebrow, he asks, "Did you need something, Miss McMurray?"

  The envelope is hot in my hand. I gulp.

  "Um, that is, I needed to give you this." I shove the envelope in his direction. He doesn't take it. "Jenny isn't here, so I thought I'd give it to you."

  He looks at the envelope like I'm offering him a bag of manure. "What is it?"

  "My notice." My voice is breathy. I'm blushing so badly that I'm fairly certain my face is on fire. "I'm putting in my notice. I know it's sudden, but I don't think I can commit to this internship like I thought, and it's not fair to you, and I'm sorry that I took someone else's spot, although I hope it's early enough that you can find someone else—"

  He plucks the notice from my fingers, effectively stopping my babbling. Just shut up, Kate. You're almost done with all of this.

  Just as my heart twists at the realization that this will be the last time I'll see Gabriel, he looks me straight in the eye and rips the notice in two. Then in fours. And then it's mere confetti, which he lets flutter to his feet.

  Well, I expected a lot of reactions, but definitely not this.

  "So, was that a no?" I finally ask.

  His grin is lazy, but his eyes gleam. As he steps toward me, I have to stop myself from bolting. "That was a no. You see, Kate, I've been watching you, and I think you could use some special attention."

  I blink. "What?"

  "You have a lot of potential." He strokes his chin. "I'd like to harness it for myself. So I've decided to be your mentor."

  "You have?"

  He clucks his tongue. "Kate, don't you know what you're worth? No? Well, then, I guess I'll have to show you. I want you to meet me in my office every day at ten AM. We'll start a plan of action and go from there." Through this speech, he's gotten closer to me. So close that I can make out the dark stubble on his jaw and cheeks, and how his face could be carved from marble. Yet his lips look soft, and as he gazes at me, I can feel my body responding in kind.

  "So, is it a deal?" he asks.

  "Uh, sure. Of course. Sounds good to me."

  I'm going to be spending time with Gabriel. Every day. Alone. In his office.

  Oh my God.

  OH MY GOD!

  I'm speechless. I'm dreaming. I need to pinch myself, but my body isn't working. It doesn't help that I can smell him, and I can almost feel the heat from his body.

  I look down to see one of the bits of my notice near my foot. Leaning down, I begin to pick up the ripped up pieces of paper, only because I can't think of what else to do.

  Gabriel crouches down beside me. He touches my thigh—just a brush, just a momentary touch—but it's enough that a million different fantasies fly through my mind.

  "Don't worry about the mess. I'll get it." He lifts me up by my elbow, and his fingers on my arm make me shiver.

  "Okay. Thank you, Mr. Carter, for this opportunity."

  He escorts me to his door. "You're welcome. But I'll only teach you on one condition."

  "Oh?"

  "Don't call me Mr. Carter ever again. It's Gabriel."

  I don't know how I manage to leave his office without tripping over my feet. "Okay, Gabriel," I murmur, his name like candy on my tongue.

  The predatory smile he gives me as I turn to leave?

  I tell myself I just imagined it.

  4

  Gabriel

  I begin to mentor Kate right away. The first day she comes into my office, she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. She won't stop blushing, and I have to restrain myself from tellin
g her that I know she was the one who sent me those photos. But she's so shy, so awkward, that I know I'll have to draw her out of her shell at the beginning.

  It also gives me an opportunity of studying her. She's a beautiful girl, despite her clothes and demeanor. Normally I'd assume she was playing at the shy thing just to make me think she wasn't a threat. That's what Diana would've done. She was the master at manipulating people to get what she wanted.

  Kate, though? She's as pure as the driven snow.

  And I want to be the first one to make that purity something dirty.

  I've never claimed to be a nice guy, not when there's something—or someone—I want.

  And I want Kate McMurray: underneath me, on top of me. I want her pressed against the wall as I pound inside of her tight depths. I want her riding me, those magnificent tits bouncing along with her. I want to make her scream my name until she's hoarse.

  I need to fuck her more than I've ever wanted to fuck any woman.

  "You need to keep eye contact," I instruct her during our third session together. I try to adjust my cock without her noticing. "The first person to break eye contact is the one that loses."

  She looks up at me through her hair and tries to hold my gaze, but she's the one to break first.

  "Come on. I know you're better than that." I get up and lean toward her, standing while she sits. For some reason, I want her to push me. Not bow to my every whim. I know she has a backbone somewhere, it just hasn't been uncovered yet.

  She stiffens as I press closer. We're not touching, but I can smell her: roses and something indefinable. My cock is unruly; it just wants to be inside her. Now.

  My brain, though? It's still keeping its cool. At least for now.

  "Kate, look at me."

  She looks at me.

  Her eyes are a pretty brown, almost golden. It's a damn shame she keeps her eyes downcast, because those eyes deserve to be seen. She holds my gaze, her chin jutting out. When I'm the first one to blink, I smile.

  "Excellent. Just like that." I return to my chair. Steepling my fingers, I ask, "Why did you apply for this internship?"

  She pushes her hair out of her face. "I want to work in marketing, and yours is the best company in the city."

  That makes me grin. "Flattery will always get you far. But it's not going to get you far enough if you just hide all the time."

  She seems to struggle with what to say, but I don't try to get her to speak until she's ready. Finally, she says, "I'm not always like this..."

  "Like that?"

  A blush blooms on her cheeks. "This shy. You—you're kind of intimidating."

  I'm taken aback. Not because I've never been described as much, but because she said it. Because I'm a sick bastard, it only makes me want her more.

  What I really want to ask her? Where did the girl who sent me topless photos disappear to?

  I know she's in there somewhere, underneath all that shyness and blushing.

  I decide to poke the hornet's nest, see if I can get stung. "Does it matter if you find me intimidating? If you let on to people that you're intimidated by then, they'll use that to their advantage. You have to put on a brave front, even if you're so scared you feel like you're going to faint."

  "Do you ever feel like you're going to faint?"

  I grin. "No. But I hear it's something other people feel. Those are also the same people who make excuses for themselves. That they can't be successful because other people are holding them back." I lean back in my chair, watching her. "The only person at fault is yourself."

  That gets a reaction. Her full lips thin, and her eyes narrow. She looks fucking gorgeous when she's pissed.

  "You only say that because you've always been the one in control. It's easy to act like no one is holding you back when that's literally true." She folds her arms across her chest.

  Rising from my chair, I brush my hand across the back of her chair. Not enough to touch her, but to let her know how close I am to her. She sits up straighter.

  "Those sound like a lot of excuses. How do you think you're going to be successful in your career if you just make excuses?" I move so I'm leaning against my desk, facing her. "Sounds like a whole lot of bullshit, to be honest."

  She jumps up, outraged. "I thought you wanted to be my mentor?"

  "I do."

  "Well, you're doing a shit job of it!"

  She's breathing hard, her tits pushing against her blouse. I can just make out her nipples through the fabric. My mouth waters.

  I can't stop myself from moving so there's barely a breath of space between us. To my delight, she doesn't back away. She holds my gaze, just like I taught her, and she doesn't look away.

  "Good job." I touch a tendril of her hair; it's silky soft. I see her catch her breath. "You're getting there."

  I can tell when a woman's aroused: the flushed cheeks, the parted lips. The glassy eyes. Oh, and the nipples—dead giveaway.

  I planned to wait, to savor, but I have no more self-control.

  Wrapping my arms around her, I capture her mouth with my own. She makes a sound in the back of her throat, but when I lick the seam of her lips, she opens to me with a low moan. She's all curves and desire in my arms. It drives me fucking wild.

  I kiss her until she has to pull away, breathing hard. Her lips are red and kiss-swollen. With a growl, I delve my fingers into her hair, wrapping the strands around my fist, and kiss her harder.

  She surrenders completely. I press my cock against her, and she gasps. Just to toy with her, I rub my cock against her soft belly, wanting her to know how much I want to fuck her.

  If she's as virginal as I think she is, she's never felt a cock in her life. That only fills me with an intense, almost barbaric, satisfaction.

  She's mine, and no one else's.

  I'm close to ripping her blouse open right there in the office when someone knocks on the door.

  "Mr. Carter? Your 3:00 is here," Greta says through the door.

  I swear. Kate is dazed and flushed, and it takes her a moment to realize that she needs to make herself presentable.

  Then, her eyes widen. "Oh my God," she mutters as she tries to put her hair back up. It's no use. She looks like she's been kissed, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.

  When she tries to scamper like a rabbit out of my office, I say, "Wait."

  She waits.

  I want to see her face when I tell her this. Turning her toward me, I brush my thumb across her bottom lip. She trembles.

  "You'll come again tomorrow?" I ask her softly.

  She hesitates—then nods.

  "Good. Oh, and Kate?"

  She blinks.

  "I plan to see those tits of yours in person, but thank you for sending me the photos. They've kept me well occupied this past week."

  "You...? Oh my God. You did get them." She claps a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God."

  Greta knocks again. "Mr. Carter?"

  "You better get out of here." I kiss her cheek. "See you tomorrow, Kate."

  She doesn't say a word. Instead, she practically runs from my office, almost knocking into Greta.

  And I can't stop grinning the rest of the afternoon.

  5

  Kate

  "So you're seriously wondering whether or not you should sleep with your sexy-as-fuck boss who's totally into you and already kissed you and would clearly do more to you if you let him?" Tiff gives me a wry look as she sips her mojito. "Girl, I'm not going to say it, but you're totally—"

  "Wise not to jump into this without thinking about it," Beth interjects. "I think anyone would have reservations.”

  Tiff rolls her eyes.

  After Gabriel kissed me, I didn't know what to think.

  Okay, that's a lie. I knew exactly what to think: my "sexy-as-fuck" boss, as Tiff termed it, wants me. I have a V-card I desperately need to cash in. And who would say no to Gabriel being the one to take my virginity and make me a woman?

  Pretty much no red-bloode
d woman would say no.

  I sip my drink slowly, not wanting a repeat of my twenty-first birthday, even if it did result in sending Gabriel those topless photos. Which he totally knew were mine from the beginning. A blush crawls up from my chest to my ears as I think about his whispered words in my ear.

  He wants me. Me! Kate McMurray, awkward intern, perpetual virgin. The girl who can't get any guy on Tinder to message back. It's unbelievable.

  "Look, Beth, we both know you're boring," Tiff says, "but Kate doesn't need to be." She turns her gaze back to me. "You'd be an idiot to say no. He was a good kisser, right?"

  I nod. Just thinking about that kiss sends me into a tailspin of desire. Want, want, want is all my brain can think.

  Tiff nods. "If he's a good kisser, then he's going to be good in bed. Now, if he just slobbered all over your face? I'd say no, too. No matter how hot a guy is, if he sucks in bed, well, that's just depressing." She finishes the last of her mojito with a slurping noise.

  Beth sniffs. "And did nobody mention that this is Kate's boss? No? Or is that just unimportant."

  "It's unimportant," Tiff says.

  The part of my mind that's saying this is a bad idea grows smaller with every moment. I'm all electricity and lust. All of the pros and cons of this? Fall by the wayside. There are only pros.

  So many, many pros.

  "I'm going to do it," I announce.

  Tiff's smile turns into a toothy grin, while Beth looks like she'd like to object but decides against it.

  "Awesome. Yes! High-five!" Tiff slaps my hand and then leans toward me. "You have to give us all of the details. All of them."

  "Not all of them." Beth elbows Tiff. "You're such an enabler."

  "Hey, somebody's gotta live a little out of us three." Tiff pinches Beth, which just sets off a pinching/poking fight that is only stopped when I ask them for sex tips.

  "Oh, honey, do we have some studying to do tonight," Tiff says, looking like this is going to be her biggest project this side of her undergraduate thesis.