Playing with the Boss (Red Hot Read Book 2)

by Max Henry

  I drop the answer without a second thought. “Sales.”

  “I’ll get onto that now.” He veers into his office, leaving me to scour the halls alone.

  I find my way to payroll, and get to work. “How are we today?”

  The middle-aged woman who I presume to be in charge peers over her glasses at me. “Fine.”

  She probably would have been a fox in her day, but age hasn’t been kind to her. Shit. Maybe it’s the job here? Whatever the reason, I know her heart still beats red, the lust in her veins very real as she tries to covertly look at me out of the corner of her eye while she types.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  I lean a hip into an empty desk near the door and cross my arms over my chest. Her eyes skim over the stretch of my jacket before she composes herself and swivels her chair to face me properly.

  “I’d like to see staff turnover figures for the past year, and also a year-end report on employment agency costs.”

  She frowns, lips pursed. “And you would be?”

  “Mason Roberts, ma’am.”

  Her face softens a little. No doubt the two of us have had email correspondence in the past, or possibly spoken on the phone. Clearly, she’s managed to connect my face to a name she knows.

  “When would you require these by?”

  I lay on the charm extra thick, ducking my head as though to act coy when all reality I peer out at the labels on the wall-to-wall filing cabinets. “Turnover figures by the end of the week, but if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to see the year end sheet now.”

  Her brow knits, yet one soft smile from my well-practiced lips and she sighs.

  “I can dig that out from the hard copy stored down the hall. If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I can photocopy it for you. Or I could take it to wherever you’re working while you’re here?”

  “I’ll wait.” I make a show of checking my watch. “I need to head out as soon as I have it.”

  I can see the cogs work in her mind. Why would I need that particular sheet of figures, and why now? I can tell you why: because it gets her the hell out of this damn office.

  She rises from her seat, dusting crumbs from the base of her blouse with a sheepish smile. I return it with a bold one of my own, causing a rose blush to pepper her cheeks as she passes by.

  One twist of my head confirms she’s down the hall and out of sight. With a swift kick of my foot, I send the door swinging most of the way closed and then set to work.

  Employees DA-EH

  The folder makes a soft sweeping sound as I slide it out, not too unlike the sound Lisa’s dress made as I hitched it around her waist last weekend. I said I couldn’t remember her name, but that was utter bullshit. She may not have given it to me in the bar, but fucking Alf couldn’t stop singing her praises when he explained she’d fill in for Rosie.

  Lisa East. Short, simple, and easy to remember.

  I flick through the pages until I come across her one, praying the information isn’t outdated. The questionnaire she filled in during the application process fronts her section, complete with phone number and, praise the Lord, her address.

  I check over my shoulder, guiltier than when I stole my dad’s Playboys at age eleven, and snap a quick picture with my phone. My fingers have barely left the spine of the folder when my oblivious accomplice returns. I pretend to be seated on the front of the empty desk, checking emails on my phone as she enters.

  “Let me know if you require anything else, won’t you?” She offers the fresh sheet of copy paper, still warm from the machine.

  I pocket my phone and fold the useless data in half. “Thank you….”

  “Susan.”

  “Susan,” I repeat with as much silk in my voice as I can muster. “Pleasure.”

  I leave the payroll office sure of two things:

  1. Susan will get herself off to the memory of me tonight—whether that’s with a vibrator or her husband, only she’ll know.

  2. I’ll be getting off tonight with one very real, very hot-blooded siren by the name of Lisa East.

  THREE

  Lisa

  My heart thrums in my throat as I run my hands over my skin-tight skirt and walk toward reception. I’ve made sure to arrive precisely seven minutes late on purpose. Late enough to let Mason know I’m in charge, but not too late to be rude or have him think I’ve changed my mind.

  It took a solid hour to convince my roommate, Emma, not to join us later when I phoned to say I wouldn’t be in tonight. She’d argued that it was hardly working when the business would be conducted at a bar after dinner, and although I tend to agree, there was no way in hell I was having anyone bear witness to this potential train wreck.

  “You’re lucky my cab is late,” he says when I arrive at reception.

  One leg is casually slung to the other, ankle to knee, and his arms spread over the backs of the adjoining seats to his. I glance around the space, thankful our nosey receptionist has left already, and opt to stand.

  “I had a few things to wrap up for the week.”

  “Huh.” He leans forward, all broad shoulders and thick thighs as he rests his elbows on them. “Don’t put in overtime on my account.”

  “I wasn’t.” I fold my arms, annoyed that he’d think I’m not usually this dedicated to my work.

  “Good.”

  An awkward silence stretches between us. If this is what our drinks will be like, then perhaps I should fake an illness and cancel? But then again, how often does a man this insanely hot ask you out? If I want to know more about him than what he shares in the office, or online, then this is the only way to do it.

  I stalked the ever-loving hell out of his tight ass once I had a chance to grab a bathroom break this afternoon. Perched on the lid of the toilet, I thumbed my way through his profile on the company’s website (which I would have never realized was his without a picture there to tip me off), his Facebook, and best of all, his Instagram.

  Oh, his Instagram. I sure know how he works out those shoulders now. Thank heavens for the ability to quietly stalk people without their knowledge.

  He sighs, loosening his tie as he leans back in his seat to check the parking lot. The cab hasn’t arrived going by the sour look on his face as he returns his focus to me.

  “Look. If you’ve changed your—”

  “Why would I?” His gaze narrows, jaw hard.

  I shrug, palming my purse at my side. “It’s just that… well, you look as though you’ve had a long week and—”

  “I have.”

  Seriously. Can the jerk let me finish a sentence?

  “Which is why I need this,” he states. “And after the news you got today, I think you need it too. Am I correct, Lisa?”

  Have the air-conditioners switched off already? Sheesh. I shift my weight between my feet, suddenly flushed. “Perhaps.” It all depends on what he offers.

  Could I use a drink? Hell yeah.

  A night out? Not really; kicking my heels off and ordering takeaway sounds like heaven.

  Could I use a good hard fucking, though? Well, who doesn’t need one of those to relax at the end of the week?

  “What’s on your mind?” He inclines his head, studying me.

  “Nothing.” I take two steps toward the large front windows and thank the heavens above when his cab pulls in the drive. “Your ride’s here.”

  “Our ride.” He rises from his seat, and I’m treated to a wave of his delicious smell when he moves toward the doors.

  I glance down the hall to find Alf’s office light still on. “Are you sure the rest of management won’t mind you missing their dinner?”

  “Not if they want me to put in a good word on why their jobs need to stay.” He smiles wickedly and then gestures to the door. “Ladies first.”

  My spine stiffens when he sets his hand on the small of my back, and then guides me before him. I’m all too painfully aware of his proximity as we exit into the late afternoon light and greet
the cab.

  Mason opens the door, again gesturing for me to go first. I slide on to the luxury leather seat—my first time in a corporate cab—and wait as he does so also. His presence seems to suck the air from the car, everything about the man commanding and oozing control.

  He gives our driver the address for his hotel and then relaxes into the seat. With his legs slung so wide, he intrudes over my side of the seat. I tilt my hips toward the door so as not to knock knees with the guy.

  Just because my hands itch with desperation to pick up where we left off last week, doesn’t mean I can’t keep some level of dignity. After all, first and foremost this is supposed to be an evening for me to show why I’m worthy of keeping my job.

  Isn’t it?

  “How often do you frequent the bar I saw you at last weekend?” Mason stares out his window as he asks the question.

  I frown and then twist my lips to one side before answering. “Emma and I go most Saturday nights.” Is this a test? One of his ways to judge my character? “Why?”

  “I want to know I’m not dealing with a loose woman.” He turns to look at me when I gasp. “You’ll forgive me for having such doubts after how we met.”

  I really can’t argue that. Damn it.

  “You perhaps could have asked the question a little more subtly, or maybe in an entirely different way… like not at all,” I sass.

  “Touchy.”

  “How often do you sleep with strangers in bars?” I add a little head wiggle to my question.

  He smirks, leaning across the seat to whisper, “I don’t ‘sleep’ with women in bars. I fuck them. Slightly awkward to do anything but that.”

  “Pig.”

  “Tease.”

  I lift an eyebrow, gaze falling to his full lips that hover mere inches from mine. The memory of his taste takes me by surprise, and to my horror, my tongue tingles at the thought of kissing him again.

  I swallow back the urge and lean away to look out my window. “Not far now.”

  “You know the place?”

  “Of course.” His hotel is one of few five-star stays in the city. “The company must have quite the budget spare after all if they put you up there.”

  “Perks of being away from home for so long.”

  “And what is at home?” I fist my hands in my lap, preparing for the answer. He doesn’t wear a ring, but with some men that means nothing.

  A low chuckle fills the cab as our driver eases us into the sweeping laneway out the front of the hotel.

  “Would you like to know if I’m married?” Mason asks.

  I give a little shake of my head as though to ask, “Well?”

  He smiles, setting a firm hand on my knee to stroke my thigh through the material as he answers. “No, Lisa. I’m not.” His fingers squeeze hard, demanding. “No children, either. I’m completely yours.”

  “No strings attached then?” He didn’t say no girlfriend.

  Mason withdraws his touch and then reaches for his door. “I never said that.”

  I’m left contemplating my options as he exits the cab. I could ask the driver to take me home and blow off this cocky son of a bitch, but then again… that ass.

  Live a little, Lisa. He’s asked me out after hours for a reason. I’m a sales executive. Nothing about my position is important enough to blow off drinks with management so that only leaves me with one logical reason for this.

  He really does want to pick up where we left off last weekend.

  Get out of the cab, Lisa.

  Now.

  FOUR

  Mason

  Everything about this situation is bullshit. I haven’t canceled on the boring old fucks for dinner; I won’t show up. I’ve also got no intention of discussing job security with Lisa; I only wanted a reason for her to join me that wouldn’t see her palm crossed against my cheek and a sexual harassment suit on the table.

  Although, a man could be forgiven for taking last weekend as an open invitation.

  “Will you be here for the whole month?” Lisa’s heels click across the marble foyer as we head for the lifts.

  “Two weeks.” I punch the call button before we’ve even stopped walking. Every second around this woman drives me closer to the point of losing control.

  I don’t lose control. Ever.

  And I’m sure as hell not about to start now.

  “When do we find out if our jobs are safe?”

  The door slides open, and I lead her into the lift. “I don’t know.” My finger hits the close button before the couple approaching can intervene.

  I catch a slight frown from Lisa. It seems my haste to keep us alone didn’t go unnoticed. If she minds, though, she doesn’t say. Instead, she leans her hands on the rail behind her and makes those beautiful fucking tits of hers pop.

  I turn my back to try and ease the growing hard-on in my slacks, yet her reflection is thrown at me from all angles. Goddamn mirrored lifts.

  “Well,” she mumbles, still lost in her musings. “I hope that when we do find out—if the news is bad, that is—we’re given time to prepare.”

  “Prepare?” I glance over my shoulder at her. “For what?”

  “Unemployment.” She frowns.

  “Oh.” I guess she must genuinely be worried about this. Surely if she’s as good as she says she is, then there’s nothing to be concerned about. She’d be snapped up in a heartbeat with a face like that. Society may have moved on from the fifties, but men are still men, and a pretty face still appeals when a person wants to screw you down for an extra five percent.

  “Not all of us have well-paying management roles,” she snaps.

  She folds her arms across her chest, doing nothing for my self-restraint. I eye the swell of her breasts in the mirror before me. She really is a knockout: all curves and softness. Goddamn, my fingertips still hold the memory of her supple flesh.

  “What would put your mind at ease?” The doors to the lift slide open on my floor.

  “Knowing I still have a job in a month.” She hustles past me, only to come to a sudden halt when she realizes she has no idea which direction to go.

  “Left,” I instruct, taking the opportunity to adjust my slacks while her back is turned.

  She starts down the hallway, taking her time no doubt so I can catch up and lead her to my door. I stay behind her purposefully, admiring the bob of her ass as she walks.

  “Enjoying the view?” she quips.

  “I am actually.”

  She sighs and stops, forcing me to take the lead.

  I slap her butt on the way past. “Can’t blame me when you package it like that.”

  “Are you honestly this much of a chauvinist?”

  “Depends.” I swipe my keycard at the lock two down from where she stopped.

  “On what?”

  “Do you like it?” I don’t wait for an answer and push the door open.

  The fresh smell of housekeeping greets me, everything tidied and put back in order since I left this morning.

  I duck my head back out the door. “Coming?”

  She starts with a huff, shoulders dropping as she edges past where I hold the door for her. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Lisa makes her way into the suite slowly, hand trailing the small cedar table as she drinks in the details of the room. “It’s pretty flash, isn’t it?”

  “Never stayed five-star before?” I could remedy that...

  “Never had the means or occasion to.” She stops at the glass slider, staring out into the darkening skyline. “I imagine it looks amazing at night.”

  “Hang around and find out.” I ditch the tie and get to work on the buttons of my shirt.

  She frowns, tossing a cautionary glare over her shoulder. “A rather inappropriate offer for management to make an employee, isn’t it?”

  I shed the shirt, not missing the way her eyes widen as they drift across my sculpted torso.

  “Hold that thought.” My hands make quick work
of my belt, a soft rose flush taking hold in her cheeks when I kick my shoes off and drop my slacks. Arms held out wide, I gesture to my state of undress with my chin. “See? No longer management, am I?”

  She chuckles—the most adorable sound—and turns toward the window again. “Clever.”

  “You know, you could do the same—get down to your underwear—and then we could rid you of the ‘employee’ title as well.”

  She lifts a hand, one eyebrow raised. “Careful. You’re toeing the line there, Mason.”

  One word and she throws me off my game. It’s the first time I’ve heard her say my name. I want to listen to her say it again. Repeatedly. Especially while I fuck her.

  “You better get a wriggle on if you want more than standing room only,” she gently coaxes. “Friday is busy in the city, as you can imagine.”

  “Of course.”

  She takes a seat in the armchair at the foot of the bed while I pull a clean pair of jeans and a dark gray button-down from the small closet. With every passing second, the frustration grows.

  I’m doing what’s polite, not what’s necessary.

  Mere feet from where I stand is a red-blooded female. One who has shown apparent interest in me, and one who I’m most definitely interested in, in return. It’s a goddamn crime not to show Lisa what she does to me—a fucking sin not to treat her like the goddess she is.

  I toss the jeans and shirt on the foot of the bed, not stopping as I stalk to where she stiffens in the seat. Her eyes go wide, her lips parting to say something as I reach for her, yet I don’t give her time to voice a single syllable as I tug the woman to her feet and crush my mouth to hers.

  Her body is rigid against mine at first, yet with each sweep of my tongue, each pinch of my lips, she softens. Her back arches over my arm, her ass firm in my hold as I press her hips to mine.

  A whimper escapes her lips as she pulls back, the pupil of her eyes flaring when she undoubtedly recognizes the erection that presses against her thigh.

  “See what you do?”

  Her throat bobs as she swallows, inviting, supple. I duck my head and place a heated kiss to her jugular; her breaths fast and flustered.

  “The things I wanted to do to you last weekend,” I muse with a shake of my head. “Are you game?”