I set my wineglass on the table and slide my chair back. I move quickly into the kitchen and tuck a roll of paper towels under one arm, unbuttoning my shirt as I stomp back into the dining room, gliding across the dark wood of the floor with absolutely zero grace.
“Fuck you, Lex,” I say as I toss my blouse on the table and start to wipe at the stain. It's never coming out of that fabric, let's just be honest about that. “Fuck you and your stupid pet project. Fuck your boring suits and your not so boring ties. Fuck you for being hot and knowing it.” I stand up and put my hands on the small of my back, looking down at my black lace bra and the bulge of pale cleavage sitting in the cups. I'm not a big, big girl, but I'm proud of my C's. They're substantial but not overwhelming on my admittedly short frame. I let my eyes flutter closed and try not to think of Lex as anything but an asshole to cuss out while alone in my townhouse. I don't imagine his big hands sliding up my sides and caressing my breasts, holding them taut in his hard fists as his …
The doorbell rings again, and I glance up at the silver clock on the wall.
It's one in the Goddamn morning.
“It's one in the Goddamn morning!” I shout, wondering who the hell is at my door. If I was smart about it, I'd check the peephole and probably call the cops. Strange things have happened to me in this city. One time, I opened the door to find two homeless people having sex on my stoop. I'd like to avoid that situation in the future. “One. In. The. Morning.”
I slide back the chain, flick the deadbolt and fling the door open. That would be the wine talking.
“Oh.”
I almost take a step back, but I end up tripping over the long legs of my slacks. These babies were made for heels, just so you know. Lafayette 148 New York Menswear Trousers. My favorite. I stumble against the wall and slide my hands along the textured sage paint.
“Oh? Is that all you have to say?”
“What in the fucking blasted hell are you doing on my doorstep?” I ask, my voice cracking just a bit. I can't tell if it's the wine or the darkly dangerous man standing less than two feet in front of me. I'd like to think it's the wine, but … the lie detector test might decide that was a lie. A giggle explodes from my throat before I clamp down on it and puff out my chest. I try to look dignified but the world around me is hazy and full of grape drenched dreams. I reach down to straighten out my blouse when I realize that – I'm not wearing one.
Lex Lyndon's gaze dips down to my breasts and hangs there. When he glances up at me, his eyes are glimmering and his mouth looks almost … happy. Smiling. I think he might be smiling.
“I spent the last few hours waiting in a disgusting, dirty fast food restaurant surrounded by screaming patrons and overly rude employees. And where might I ask were you?” He licks his lips and something flashes over his face. I can't tell what it is, but it's intriguing. I feel like I'm not seeing the whole Lex Lyndon. Some part of this equation is missing.
“Right where I was supposed to be. Here. Not thinking of you.” A muscle in Lex's strong, handsome jaw twitches. I swallow hard, past a rising lump in my throat. The street is aglow with the red and yellow lights of passing vehicles and the sounds of drunken shouting can be heard in the distance. It is, after all, a Friday night.
Lex's face is bathed in darkness, limned by flickering lights and haloed by the soft glow of the white christmas lights that drape the trees in front of my townhouse year round. His body fills my doorway, his chest only inches from the door frame on either side of him. His arms are up, pressing against the wood, holding him back from what I can only assume is rage. Seems like I've thoroughly pissed him off. Good.
“It's time you got a taste of your own medicine,” I say, and I almost giggle. Fortunately, I've got enough willpower to halt a horse, so I keep it back and lift my chin. Lex's eyes stay glued to my breasts. “Eyes are up here, sir,” I say sarcastically. Anything that happens now will undoubtedly effect not only our future working relationship but also my standing in the company. Coming over to my house in the middle of the night, ogling my breasts? I'm certain neither of these things will go over well in the hands of HR. Or my lawyer. I try not to smile when Lex's gaze crawls grudgingly up to my face. I can't see his irises right now; his eyes are solid black. I don't let that intimidate me. Lex is just a rich man in an expensive suit. Everything he is is superficial, and I'm not afraid.
But I am turned on.
Not necessarily a bad thing as long as I don't act on it. I have a perfectly nice vibrator upstairs with a wand attachment. I'm perfectly capable of pleasuring myself. I don't have to give in to Lex's demands – or play off this weird sexual thing building between us – but I don't see anything wrong with imagining him while I'm touching myself.
“You purposely ignored a company directive and left me to wait in a substandard establishment, costing the company time and money. Believe it or not, Miss Ashcraft … ” And he actually got my name right. Good for him. “I am an asset to this corporation.”
“You're an asset in other ways maybe but not to the company. What is it that you even do?” Lex's mouth twists into an angry scowl and he steps back, adjusting his tie. I'm not exactly sure what I meant with the whole other assets comment, but he didn't seem to register it. Thank God. If I'm not careful, this entire wine induced nightmare could turn into something bad for me, too. I have to keep things going my way and not stare at his … massive erection. ErmiGod.
I blink my eyes to clear the hazy spots and try to remain dignified and in control. Always in control. If my gaze dips down to grab another gander at that … wow, this must be the wine talking … at that big ass bulge in Lex's pants, well, who would know?
“My position in the company is hardly any of your business, Olivia.” Lex says my name like one might say a dirty word, something they'd like to taste but are too ashamed of. I wonder what that means? In my drunken daze, I cross my arms over my chest and smirk. Just like he did earlier at the office. “The only thing you need to know is that I have the power to get rid of you.” Lex lifts up the fingers of his left hand and snaps them. “Just. Like. That.”
“If that were true, you wouldn't have waited at a fucking Burger King for hours. Like, seriously, did you just leave?” Something's off – other than my drunken self, of course. There's something in Lex's expression, that same mystery I was picking up on before, that tells me he's getting desperate. But for what? I am so confused right now.
I smile.
“Even the fact that you went to the Burger King is off, buddy.” Um. Did I just call my boss 'buddy'? Well, whatever. It's better than 'twit', which is what he called me earlier. As far as points go, I'm still in the lead for being the least offensive. I grab another crotch shot and clear my throat, but Lex doesn't give me the chance to speak.
Instead, he closes the distance between us and puts his fingers on my bare arm. Trails of fire follow his touch and a groan escapes my lips before I can contain it. Crap. A pair of people stumbling past my house yell encouragement, bolstered by my lack of shirt I'm sure, as I stand here like a gawping idiot at the front door of my house.
“I'm not used to people talking back to me,” he snarls, tightening his grip. I don't back down. I'm not a pushover, not even when I'm drunk. Hell, especially not when I'm drunk. If anything, I'm liable to get downright nasty, drop that practiced professionalism I usually wear around. “Especially women.”
“Hah!” I shout, startling Lex enough that he releases my arm. A drunk guy with a beard sees me standing there in my bra and starts to stumble towards the steps that lead up to my front door. Okay. That's it. Enough lookie-loos for one night. I reach around Lex, my half-naked body pressing up tight against his firm chest, and shut the door. To reach the dead bolt, I have to push even further into him. This time, it's not just his firm chest that I'm feeling – it's his firm everything.
Holy sweet baby Jesus.
“Your erection is touching me,” I grind out a split second before Lex is pushing me back, breathing hard
, practically panting. We lock gazes for a moment as the room tilts and shifts, promising me that tomorrow, I will pay for my bottles of wine with a massive headache and terrible breath.
“You mean, you're touching it,” he growls out, sending a shiver down my spine. I study Lex's strong jaw, his ridiculously sculpted cheekbones, his chocolate brown hair. Chocolate. My mom was right – he really is a walking piece of sex candy. Lex blinks a few times and then schools his expression into a more refined asshole look – complete with smirk. “Which could be considered sexual harassment, could it not? Olivia, darling, it's starting to look like your proposed lawsuit's in a bit of trouble.” Lex looks down at me, his body heat scalding in the enclosed space. I wonder if he can tell that my chest is heaving with the effort of being this close and not touching? Obviously, he feels the same way hence the bulge in his perfect black slacks. “Considering this fortuitous turn of events, let me reiterate the obvious for you: you are fired.”
Lex starts to turn away, to leave on that note like he's won something.
I grit my teeth and grab at the sleeve of his monstrously expensive suit jacket. That one article of clothing probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. I glare at him, narrowing my eyes, watching his face swim against a background of sage green paint.
“I am not fired,” I tell him, throwing a certain amount of authority into my voice. “And you are not going anywhere until we work this thing out.” I expect him to pull away anyway. Of course he would, right? I mean, this is Alexander Lyndon that we're talking about here.
Only he doesn't.
He stops and turns back to me, nostrils flaring, eyes still black and vaguely frightening. He's so angry right now, I can practically smell the emotion on him.
So then why doesn't he just go?
I swallow hard and try to think past my hormones. I'm not the kind of girl that swoons over an alpha asshole in real life – hey, we all read those books, right? – and I'm not going to give in to a wide chest and sculpted shoulders. I have a brain inside my head, and I'm capable of making rational, adult decisions.
When I'm sober.
Eh … who knows how many bottles of wine later and things are a different story.
“You're going to kiss me,” I tell him because … well, honestly because I'm drunk. “And you're going to fuck me right here, against this wall.” Not sure where that came from either, but hey, let's roll with it. I lift my chin and dare him to argue against that.
He doesn't.
Instead, his smirk becomes a grin and his gorgeous lips part to growl out words I didn't even believe the man was capable of.
“Yes, ma'am.”
I realize certain formalities are in order, but I'm not about to turn down a good thing. Opportunity. My father's always said that's the difference between those at the front of the pack and those in the back. When you find an opportunity that makes good, logistical sense, you take advantage of it.
That's exactly what I plan on doing with Miss Olivia Ashcraft.
My fingers come up to tangle in the vibrant red of her hair at the same moment she wraps her hand around a fistful of mine. My first urge is to scowl and snatch her wrist away, but that's only because it's what I've been taught to do my entire life: take control. I'm always in control of everything: money, business, women. There came a point in my life where I looked around and realized there wasn't a single thing in my world that I couldn't bend to my will, manipulate or even outright command to fall into line.
That's when I started looking for someone like her.
Smart mouthed, completely and utterly full of herself, self-righteous.
This woman is a match for any man I've ever met, outspoken and completely confident in herself.
It's turning me on.
“Against this wall, Lex,” she whispers, and even pitched low her voice has power to it. “Right now.”
I'm not about to ignore that command.
My lips find Olivia's, her tongue thrusting against mine – nothing like those mewling kittens I bring back to my condo. If I have to mount one more spoiled little heiress brat or – even worse – a yes-woman with no spine and no sense of self-worth, I'm going to go insane. I can't take it anymore. Yes, Lex. Whatever you say Lex. These … strange, habitual creatures who seemingly don't give a shit if I label them as beneath me. Who lie there on my bed like dolls or bend over and scream my name before I've even touched them. The memories disgust me.
I yank Olivia's head back and lean down to put my lips against her throat – only she doesn't let me. She pulls my hair twice as hard as I pulled hers and bites at my lower lip, dropping her left hand down to my slacks. She wastes no time in pulling my zipper down, letting her fingers trail across the waistband of my briefs.
As soon as her fingertips meet the flesh on my abdomen, I feel a surge of passionate violence. I've been waiting so long for this, but maybe I can't do it? Maybe this need for control is programmed into my very veins? I swallow back the rage and use the force of my confliction to slam our bodies together, grinding Olivia against the wall of her townhouse. I wonder what the neighbors will think of this? I smirk against her lips and she growls at me, shoving my briefs down and freeing my cock.
My breath hisses through my teeth as Olivia pulls back and reaches down for her own pants, unzipping them as I slide my fingers through her hair and over her shoulders.
“Just so you're aware,” she tells me as she drops her slacks to the floor. “I still think you're a misogynistic piece of horse shit.” Olivia reaches up and grabs my hands, pushes them down to the plain gray cotton panties she's wearing.
How … unattractive.
And yet, horribly arousing.
This woman hasn't slipped into a pair of lacy nothings to attract me, to try to gain a slice of the power and the wealth that my family's built for themselves. She didn't even expect me – or any other man for that matter – to see what she was wearing underneath her utilitarian menswear trousers. Either that, or she didn't care. Doesn't matter much to me either way.
I grab the waistband on the panties and drag them down her hips, trailing my fingertips against her flesh as I go. She keeps her right hand tangled in my hair and leans her head back against the wall, allowing a single gasp of breath to pass through her lips before I hit the floor and watch her step out of the clothes.
As soon as I rise to my feet and she whispers in my ear, I realize we have a problem.
“Condom?” she asks, as if I carry them around with me regularly. That's hardly the case. Women come to me, fully prepared for the occasion. This sort of situation is … unprecedented.
“Fuck.” Olivia jumps when I say the word, leaning back and blinking at me like she's confused. Her lashes are dark, long enough that I have to consider whether or not they might be fake. But no. Whatever makeup she was wearing earlier in the day is gone. No eyeshadow, no lipstick, nothing. This too is so paralyzingly refreshing that it takes me a second to remember what it was that I was cursing about. “Fuck.”
“No big deal,” she slurs, and I realize that maybe she's had a bit more alcohol than I'd originally thought. Her witty repartee hadn't seemed to suffer much, so I assumed she was lucid enough to make this decision for herself. I pray that I'm not wrong as she licks her lips and looks up at me. “Wait here.”
I clench my fists by my sides and watch as she moves away, bare ass jiggling enticingly. It's all I can do not to move up behind her and grab her hips, shove her over that table, and fuck her until she screams. There might be some small amount of satisfaction in finding out if she'd submit to me, but it wouldn't last. As soon as we were done, I'd look down and feel disgusted. I'd go home and watch the world revolving around me and feel that horrid sense of being overwhelmed, like my plate is too full to even eat a single bite.
So I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
“For the love of God, woman,” I growl, prying myself away from that spot. If Olivia and I were … better acquain
ted, if she'd actually shown up for that meeting, entered into a contract with me, I'd stand here all night if she asked. But right now, Olivia is nothing but an unruly employee who makes my blood boil and my cock rock solid.
I take off after her and come to a set of doorways – a kitchen on one side, living room on the other. Even though both rooms are dark, I catch sigh of Olivia right away, ass up on the couch and snoring.
My lip curls as I stare at her, half in disgust, half in unbridled lust.
Olivia Ashcraft is asleep.
I can't even remember the last time a woman fell asleep on me because, well, a woman has never fallen asleep on me. Not once. Women have been throwing themselves at me since junior high school.
For a few moments, I just stand there in shocked surprise, admiring the round curve of Olivia's ass, the way her lips part gently, even though her cheek is smashed into a decorative throw pillow. One hand hangs off the edge of the couch, something shiny and silver clutched in her fingers. A condom. The woman keeps condoms in her living room. How I'd love to have an explanation for that one.
I move across the white carpet, loafers whispering softly in the pseudo silence of the townhouse. In the background, cars whiz by and drunken shouts ring out through the neighborhood, but in here, it feels like they're a world away. It's just me, my bare cock, and Olivia's bare ass.
“Hmm.” I pause on the opposite side of the glass coffee table and just stare. There's a temptation there to wake Olivia up by plunging my cock into her wet heat, but I have a feeling that wouldn't go over particularly well. This woman and I are still strangers.
Taming Her Boss Page 3