Undercover Boss: A Dirty Office Romance (Soulmates Series Book 8)

by Hazel Kelly

  “Of course.”

  “I kind of miss the unprofessional you.”

  “The unprofessional me or the unprofessional us?”

  She nodded. “The latter.”

  My eyes dropped to her lips, and I took a step back. “I need a drink.”

  She was quiet for the rest of the class, but the energy we didn’t put into talking, we put into mastering the steps. I even let my wrist flick once or twice, and when I finally stopped tripping over myself, I found the courage to dance even closer to her inviting curves.

  Eventually, I stopped checking on my mom and Eddie’s progress across the room, determined to be a worthy dance partner to this woman who’d become my favorite obsession.

  Was she really that great? Or was it just that I felt great when she was around?

  And if there was a difference, did it matter?

  T H I R T Y T W O

  - Gemma -

  “You’re sure you won’t come in for one drink?” Alex’s mom asked, her thin forearms draped across my open window.

  I turned to look at Alex in the driver’s seat, hoping he knew I would rather be awkward than rude.

  “Another time,” he said, putting the car in reverse.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, pointing at him. “Nice to meet you, Gemma.”

  “Same to you,” I said, waving at her and then Eddie, who was standing at the top of the driveway with his cap in his hand.

  “Sorry,” Alex said, taking off down the street. “But that’s about all the double dating with my mom I can take.”

  I laughed. “It’s no wonder she’s single.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How’s Eddie supposed to be himself when he can’t touch her knee without you noticing?”

  “You must be joking.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m only protective of her because she’s sick.”

  “She might be sick,” I said. “But she’s not dead.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means she’s not as fragile as you think she is.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, tightening his grip on the wheel.

  “Sorry.” I raised my palms. “Forget I said anything.”

  A frustrated expression twisted his mouth, and several minutes of silence followed.

  “Can we start over?” I asked after a while.

  “From what point?”

  “From when I told you I was too exhausted for a drink.”

  He pulled up to a red light and looked at me. “You getting a second wind?”

  “No,” I said. “But if you want to come up for one…?”

  “I’m surprised you still have the energy to make conversation after the way my mom bombarded you with questions all the way to and from that class.”

  “I thought she was charming.” And surprisingly youthful, all things considered.

  “She thought you were, too.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “She didn’t have to,” he said. “I can read her eyebrows.”

  “What?”

  “You know how some people can read lips. I can read my mom’s eyebrows.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s not at all creepy.”

  He glanced at me.

  “Reminds me of me and my dad, actually.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “Does your dad have expressive eyebrows?”

  “No,” I said, scooting my seat back a little. “Just tics that only I know about. Like he has this dent in one of his thumbnails he rubs when he’s nervous. And he always pulls the hair at the back of his neck when he’s struggling to think of something nice to say.”

  “You don’t think Jeanie will mind?”

  “If you come in for a drink? Not at all. Unless you drink all the grapefruit beer, and then she’ll probably Muay Thai your ass.”

  “Good to know.”

  “I know it’s not professional,” I said. “To ask.”

  “You threw professional out the window the minute you put on that dress,” he said without looking at me.

  “What’s wrong with it?” I asked, looking down. I loved this dress. I bought it when it was still a size too big for me (against my better judgement), and it finally fit…mostly because missing Alex had screwed up my appetite.

  “Everything,” he said.

  I hugged myself and looked out the window.

  “If you’re still off limits.”

  I peeked out the corner of my eye at him. Is that what he thought? That I was off limits? God, I’d practically melted in his arms a thousand times tonight! What the hell was wrong with this guy? Did I have to wave a red flag in front of my body?

  “I think I can still fuck you and do my job, though,” he said. “In case you were wondering.”

  My heart pounded in my chest.

  “I think I can fuck you and do anything, to be honest.”

  “Alex—”

  “Don’t say my name like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you think this is sustainable.” He pulled into the lot outside Jeanie’s building and turned towards visitor parking.

  “Like what is sustainable?”

  “Me keeping my hands to myself,” he said, pulling into a parking spot and killing the engine.

  I willed him to look at me and dropped my voice to a whisper. “So don’t.”

  T H I R T Y T H R E E

  - Alex -

  Gemma flicked a corner light on when we entered her apartment, and a ball of butterscotch fluff came over wagging its tail.

  She scooped it into her arms and held its little cartoon face up for me to admire. “This is Tinkerbell,” she said, letting the dog lick her cheek. “Can you hold on one second? I need to let her out.”

  She was gone before I could object.

  I looked around, surprised to find a picture of the recently deceased king of Thailand next to one of Jeanie and her family. Then I leaned against the counter, reticent to get caught showing myself around.

  Gemma appeared a minute later, the dog skipping in the door behind her and going straight for her little pink water bowl. “Sorry,” she said, her hips shimmying around the counter into the compact kitchen area.

  I watched her reach into a high cabinet, her lower back arching as she retrieved two glasses.

  “Do you have a craving for anything in particular?” she asked, opening the fridge. “Beer? A glass of white?”

  The glow from the fridge highlighted her gorgeous shape, and my dick stirred as my attention settled on her shapely ass.

  She turned and caught me looking.

  “Come here.”

  She shut the fridge door and came around the counter. “We might have a bottle of red in the pantry, if you—”

  “Stop talking.”

  She closed her lips.

  I leaned forward, savoring the scent of her hair as my breath teased her ear. “One last rumba.”

  She smiled at me and then struck a pose.

  I followed suit, flicking my arms into position.

  She danced around me, the bottom of her dress flitting against the back of my knees. Then she came to a stop, her round ass teasingly close to my groin. “We have no music,” she said, as if she’d suddenly noticed how quiet it was.

  “Who needs music when you can count, two, three, four,” I said, spinning her away from me.

  Her arm snapped straight, and I squeezed her hand to keep her from flying into the TV. Then she spun back to me, her chest panting against mine.

  “I don’t want to have to fire you,” she said, her breath mingling with my own.

  “Fire me for what?” I asked, letting my hands slide down to her hips.

  “For sleeping with your boss.”

  I dragged my lips across her forehead. “Sleeping is the last thing I had in mind.”

  “Alex—”

  “Shhh.” I leaned her back and nibbled the delicate fles
h of her throat with my teeth, sliding a hand along her collarbone and down over the valley of her firm cleavage. “I’ll die if I can’t have you again.”

  She lifted her head and wrapped a hand behind my neck.

  I brought her slowly upright again. “I can’t be near you like this and not have you.”

  Her eyes searched mine. “Prove it.”

  I kissed her before she could say another word, pulling her hips against my hard-on as I tasted her. Then I lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around me and started blindly down the hall, bumping into the wall between kisses until we reached a small room that was only about twice the size of the twin bed.

  “Unzip me,” she said, turning around.

  I took a deep breath and found the tiny zipper, which felt slippery between my anxious fingers as I revealed the smooth skin of her back, my free hand pinching her bra free as soon as the clasp came into view.

  She tried to turn around when the fabric fell over her shoulders, but I held her hips still and peeled her dress off, sinking to my knees as I pulled it to the floor.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  I scratched my nails down her smooth ass as I slid her thong down. “On your knees.”

  She only hesitated for a moment before doing what I asked.

  I bent her over the bed and found her wet slit with my fingertips. “You asked what I’m craving,” I said, teasing her entrance.

  A needy whimper escaped her throat.

  “It’s this,” I said, thrusting my fingers deep into her hot center. “It’s you.”

  She moaned with every twist of my wrist, soaking my hand with her hot silk.

  I grew harder every time she gushed, my mouth watering at how wet she was for me.

  “Fuck me,” she breathed finally.

  I couldn’t tell whether it was an exclamation or an invitation, but I undid my belt and pulled my dick out anyway, stroking it as she trembled around my hand. Then, when it grew so stiff it began to ache, I moved behind her and teased her swollen bud with the tip of it.

  “Yes,” she begged. “Give it to me.”

  I forced her open, and her tight pussy clenched around me as I buried myself in her warmth. She felt so good I feared I might pass out, and before I could steady my breath, she began circling her hips like she was trying to stir her insides with my dick.

  A guttural sound rumbled up my chest.

  She answered with a high-pitched whine.

  I dug my fingers into her hips and started fucking her from behind, finding a rhythm that made my dick swell with anticipation.

  She clawed at her bedspread with both hands, my balls slapping against her pussy as my knees burnt against the carpet.

  “You’re going to make me come,” she said, clenching big tufts of blanket in her fists.

  I spit on two fingers and found the rim of her asshole, massaging it as my dick thrust inside her.

  Finally, she cried out and gasped for breath, and I stuck a finger in her ass, sliding it in and out of her like I was doing with my dick.

  “Fuck!” she panted, flooding my cock with cum before collapsing in a heap.

  I thought about fucking my way straight through her orgasm, but I was too concerned about the way she’d just spasmed beneath me. In fact, her body went so limp, I withdrew in a panic and hoisted her onto the bed, flipping her over so I could make sure she was okay.

  She looked like someone who’d been given laughing gas.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her eyes stayed closed but her head fell back and forth like it was weighted on both sides.

  “Gemma, talk to me.”

  She dragged a hand down my chest until she found my dick, wrapping her hand around it like she wanted to make sure it was still there. “You are so fired,” she said, opening her lazy eyes.

  Relief washed through me when I saw that her eyes were smiling, and I collapsed onto my back in the tiny bed.

  A few minutes later, my eyes popped open when I felt Gemma’s lips around my dick moments before she dragged her nails underneath my balls, making every hair on my head stand on end.

  “Tell me how you like it,” she said, shifting her body over my legs.

  I groaned and slid my hands under my head. “Just like that.”

  She picked up the pace, her lips sliding through her own silk as she sucked me.

  “You’re going to make me come,” I growled.

  She moaned and my shaft tingled from base to tip.

  “Sit on it,” I said, overwhelmed with the desire to come inside her.

  She lifted her face, and I dragged her forwards and slammed her hot body down on my dick, sinking my fingers into her firm ass so I could slide her up and down my cock.

  “Come for me,” she begged, the taste of our sex mixing on our tongues. “I want to be full of you.”

  I came hard enough to shake us both, my load exploding inside her and coating my throbbing cock.

  I pawed at her hair and pulled her against me, my heart pounding against her firm tits as her greedy pussy milked me dry. “I fucking love you,” I panted, her body tensing in my arms as soon as the words left my mouth.

  As if we weren’t already fucked enough.

  T H I R T Y F O U R

  - Gemma -

  I woke in a panic when I realized there were heavy arms around me, but when I saw it was Alex, I relaxed again.

  Yet instead of comfort or happiness, it was guilt that overwhelmed me next.

  I mean, considering what I went through with Ray—what I survived—wasn’t it a bit soon for me to be waking up with a man in my bed? Especially a man I had a working relationship with?

  The only silver lining was that I didn’t think Alex realized what he said. At least, he hadn’t repeated it or called me out for not saying it back.

  Still, his words wouldn’t stop echoing in my head, and no matter how much I wanted them to make me happy, they didn’t.

  Instead, I felt anxious and inadequate. Because not only did I not believe he loved me, I didn’t believe he ever could, which filled me with a heavy sadness that was at odds with the peaceful expression on his sleeping face.

  Adding to my angst, I genuinely didn’t know if I loved him back. After all, my other experiences of “love” had only led to pain, heartbreak, and betrayal. So I didn’t trust myself to use the word, much less recognize the feeling.

  I slipped out from under Alex’s arm and crept silently from the room, grabbing my robe off the back of the door on the way out. Then I shut myself in the small bathroom down the hall and looked in the mirror.

  Why did I find it so hard to believe Alex could fall for me? Why did the mere possibility petrify me from head to toe?

  And then it hit me. The stakes. They were too high.

  It was one thing for a stranger to not love me back, one thing to get rejected by a man who only knew the grown-up version of myself I put forward. But with Alex, it was different. He knew the fragile adolescence from which I’d come, and while that should’ve made me more trusting of him, it only made me warier.

  Because a rejection from him would hurt so much more.

  Plus, I was supposed to be focusing on myself now, learning to be strong and secure in my singledom. Not jeopardizing my mental health and career for carnal gratification.

  I splashed some cold water over my face and stood dripping over the sink, watching the clear streams swirl down the drain as I remembered that my favorite employee had fingered my asshole while I came last night.

  I turned off the water and held a hand towel over my face, finally understanding why people weren’t supposed to fuck around with co-workers. Shit. How was I even going to face him after the way he’d tossed my body around last night, fucking me so good I couldn’t even think straight?

  Maybe I should fire him. Or transfer him to another location, at least. Would we have a better chance then?

  Ugh. We had no chance if I couldn’t tame my runaway thoughts, which seemed
determined to sabotage me at every turn.

  So what if a handsome, built, kind man liked me? It wasn’t the end of the world. Just my world.

  I lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down, resting my elbows on my knees as I tried to make sense of the situation.

  Obviously, steering clear of each other the previous week hadn’t done any good. It only made our chemistry more explosive when we got behind closed doors. And as freeing as it was that I couldn’t hold a thought in my head when he got me naked, I had responsibilities and obligations that I couldn’t let slide just because I was finally getting laid again.

  Finally.

  And laid so good. By someone I truly believed would never hurt me. Not in the ways I’d been hurt before, anyway.

  But something wasn’t right.

  I knew something wasn’t right, and even though I didn’t know what it was, I couldn’t ignore the fact that my intuition was usually pretty good. So what was it? Was he using me? Was he after my job? Was I the butt of some kind of bet?

  Why couldn’t I accept that what he’d said—that he loved me—was, at the very least, a nice thing to hear? Why did it seem like something was off? Like that wasn’t the whole story? Like there was something he wasn’t telling me?

  And why was I hiding in the bathroom when there was a gorgeous man in my bed, a man who made me feel safe and beautiful and smart? A man who seemed genuinely secure in himself despite my recent professional success.

  Seriously, God, hadn’t I spent enough of my life hiding in bathrooms? Wasn’t it time to face things head on? Or had I learned nothing in the last ten years?

  Maybe I was still the insecure fat girl who just couldn’t deal? Who doubted every second of happiness that drifted her way?

  No.

  I refused to be that girl anymore. She was dead. Gone. Nobody. Replaced by someone infinitely more loveable and successful.

  So why did I feel neither?

  And then it hit me.

  The whole thing was too good to be true. Of course. It seemed so obvious now. This many things couldn’t go right for me all at once. This was nothing more than a waking dream, a dream from which I would wake any minute.