Revenge Sex: A West Coast Hotwifing Novel, Book 1

by Jasmine Haynes

  The remainder of the meeting was somewhat repetitive no matter how Holt moved it along. Clay already knew the salient points. His mind didn’t wander so much as focus on two things at once.

  It had all gotten fucked up. He’d had sex with a subordinate, then he’d walked out on Ruby. He’d have forgiven Ruby for bringing Bradley into his home. She was correct: he’d let her change the rules. He hadn’t cared. He’d been sending her mixed messages. But what he’d done with Jessica in his office had been momentous. It had changed how he felt about Ruby. He’d suddenly recognized that his relationship with her wasn’t enough. Yet he wasn’t the type to simply throw in the towel on three years without a by-your-leave. He needed time to think, evaluate, regroup.

  Then there was Jessica. What he’d done was unconscionable and against all his principles. Yet it didn’t change the fact that he wanted her. She was no longer just his employee: she was a woman he wanted badly. As her boss, he wouldn’t sabotage her career at West Coast because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Which was why he’d apologized to her this morning. What they’d done couldn’t happen again. He’d compromised her, his ethics, and company policy.

  Yet he was still caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Because he couldn’t turn off what she’d turned on. The mix was like a match to a powder keg, ready to explode.

  At this very moment, her panties were in his jacket pocket. On Saturday, they’d been in his back pocket right along with Ruby’s condom. He’d felt the soft cotton against his hand just before he’d tossed the condom on the coffee table. He’d thought of Jessica almost every moment since. He couldn’t stop.

  “Got a minute?” The meeting was over. Holt stood at his elbow as the others filed out.

  “Sure.” Exiting the conference room, Clay walked slower than the rest, letting the distance grow so they wouldn’t be overheard. They passed human resources.

  “Is Ruby all right?” Holt wanted to know. “She never calls in sick.”

  True. Ruby was as healthy as a horse. He’d often wondered if it had to do with a good sex life. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Holt raised one brow. “Don’t you know?”

  They’d stepped inside the annex to Holt’s office. This was Ruby’s domain, a neat area that included two comfortable chairs with a side table between them for magazines. It was where Ruby stood sentry behind her desk, sequestering Holt when he needed it, fielding his calls, vetting his visitors, getting them coffee if it was desired. She was the showpiece, but she was also a damn good executive admin.

  Holt eyed him when he didn’t answer. “Trouble in paradise?”

  He wasn’t merely Clay’s boss, but also his friend. They’d gone on numerous business trips and talked over drinks. Holt knew why Clay’s wife had divorced him. He knew the kind of games he played with Ruby and that their relationship was based primarily on sex. And Clay knew Holt—who’d married young, divorced young, and had one daughter—liked to play with dominance and submission. They didn’t, however, get into girlfriend bashing or overly deep personal discussions.

  But Clay had to tell him something. “I’m staying at the Marriott for the time being.” The statement held a wealth of information.

  Holt nodded, getting the subliminal message without pressing for details. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “You’ve got my cell number if you need to get hold of me.” He paused. “And Ruby and I have agreed never to bring our personal problems into the workplace.”

  “I trust you both.” Holt clapped him on the shoulder. “Ruby was long overdue for a day off.”

  Two women would have taken hours to say what needed to be said. Men weren’t like that. He’d take a few nights for thought and strategy, determine what needed to be done. Then he’d do it.

  * * * * *

  Clay had left Ruby.

  Jessica stood at the copy machine in HR, her ears roaring, heart pounding. She’d been on her way to pick up some payroll paperwork. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, barely stopping outside the door to Holt Montgomery’s office suite. But she’d heard. Ruby was sick today, and Clay was staying at the Marriott.

  Yet he said he wanted to keep his professional relationship with Jessica intact. Which meant no fooling around with her.

  A fist closed around her chest, making it hard to breathe. What did it mean? That he didn’t want Ruby anymore, but he didn’t need Jessica either?

  Chapter Ten

  Ruby wore her fuzzy pink slippers and her baggy sweats. Comfort clothes.

  On Sunday, she’d been sure Clay would come back. She hadn’t done anything that bad. But he didn’t come home. He didn’t phone. Monday morning she’d called in sick. She figured Clay needed a sign of her contrition, like she’d been so upset this weekend that she couldn’t even make it into work on Monday. Of course, she was upset, totally. It would have been very difficult to go through the motions while Clay was at work upstairs in his office. The perfect solution, a sick day.

  He still hadn’t called by Monday afternoon. She dished out a bowl of ice cream. Some comfort food was in order.

  The doorbell rang, and her heart leapt with joy. It would be just like him to ring the bell.

  It wasn’t Clay. “What on earth are you doing here?” she snapped.

  Bradley stood right where Clay should have been standing, his face hangdog and apologetic. Of course, he did look good in faded jeans that outlined his lovely package. “We’ve got to talk, Ruby.”

  “No, we don’t,” she said, starting to close the door. All she needed was for Clay to show up and find Bradley here. She was not making that mistake again.

  But Bradley put his foot in the door. “I quit.”

  She gaped. “Why the hell would you do that?” This wasn’t the economy to walk out on your job.

  “So he doesn’t have anything to hold over me.”

  “Clay wouldn’t hold anything over you.” Clay wasn’t like that. Then again, she hadn’t expected him to walk out either.

  “He’d have made our lives miserable.” He gave her such an earnest look, with caramel brown eyes like a worshipful pet.

  But really, he wasn’t making sense. “Why would he do that?”

  “When you leave him for me.”

  It wasn’t a good look for her, she knew, but Ruby let her jaw drop. “Are you insane?”

  “It’s the only way, now that he knows about us.” He smiled, making his stubbled chin more prominent.

  She remembered that she didn’t really like the scratchiness of his overgrown beard between her thighs, and her face always felt a little tender after she’d kissed him for too long. “I would never leave Clay for you.”

  His features seemed to droop like a sad puppy. “But—”

  She cut him off. “We had sex. That’s all. And now you don’t even have a job.”

  “I’ll get another one,” he said, his gaze hopeful.

  “Right,” she snapped. “You’d be better off begging Greg to take you back.”

  He put out a hand, then dropped it as if he’d thought better of touching her in this mood. “Please, Ruby,” he pleaded. “It can all work out and be perfect for us.”

  “What I had was perfect.” Bradley had screwed it up. What if Clay threw her out? She couldn’t afford anything in this quality of neighborhood on her salary. Then she took advantage of the fact that Bradley had removed his foot from the jamb and slammed the door in his face. She threw the deadbolt for good measure.

  Pulling aside the lace curtain that covered the narrow side window, she looked out across the expanse of lawn. Bradley climbed into his car and sat. And sat. As if he figured that eventually she’d have pity on him. What had she seen in the boy, other than the fact that he’d caught her at a needy time when she’d found a new wrinkle forming at the corner of her eye. She loved the way she looked, she was proud of her trim body, but even Ruby was sometimes taken off guard. It was a weak moment.

  She should have listened to Clay. There was a
very good reason for not having sex with anyone she worked with. And for not letting him into her own bed. Because when the guy got absolutely hysterical with love for her, he knew where she worked and he knew where she lived.

  If Bradley didn’t leave, she might have to call the police.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Ruby kept a low profile—something she was not used to doing—did her work and was exceptionally polite with anyone who tried to get in to see Holt. Her smaller office fronted Holt’s more spacious one, but at least she had a window.

  After being cooped up yesterday, the sun streaming through the open blinds felt good on her arms as she did Holt’s filing. She had a perfect system and could her fingers on anything at a moment’s notice. She would not let one of the AP girls file for her the way Clay did. They’d screw up her system and make her look inefficient.

  She didn’t consider going up to see Clay. He was in his man-cave, that thing men did when they had to think. It was best to let him do it. He’d get over it. He’d hate it if she whined.

  Her intercom buzzed. Holt wasn’t the kind who drove a girl crazy with constant demands. Oh yeah, she’d had bosses like that.

  She pushed the button. “Yes, Holt?”

  “You got a minute?”

  “Sure.” She clicked off.

  Holt’s office was multi-functioning. Two monitors occupied his large desk, so he could switch between tasks. Holt was a marvel, always doing more than one thing at once. A six-person capacity conference table in the corner was for hands-on meetings, and by the big bank of windows, he had a sofa-and-chair grouping for more informal discussions with customers, investors, and industry professionals. All the filing was done out in Ruby’s annex.

  Holt was seated behind his desk. Ruby daintily took the chair next to it, which was used for informal one-on-one discussions. She didn’t bothered to pull her skirt down over her knees. Not that it would reach anyway.

  “Are you okay, Ruby?” His brow knitted in concern.

  “I’m fine.” Dammit, what had Clay told him?

  “You were sick yesterday. I was worried.”

  She dipped her chin slightly, looking up at him. “Worried?”

  Holt Montgomery was a good boss, a fair man, intelligent, witty, and drop dead gorgeous. He was a fit fifty-two, with sexy gray hair and a strong face that had far fewer lines than a man his age deserved. He’d married very young, and his only daughter was thirty-three years old. He never forget her birthday, never made Ruby run out to buy a present for her. She’d never been the mothering type, but there was something about a man who doted on his daughter. It the same way she felt about Clay and his boys. How could you not admire a man who was an exceptionally good father?

  He was looking at her, as if he wanted something more from her. She thought she knew what it was. “Clay left—”

  He held up his hand. “Not my business. What is my business is whether you’re up to working today.”

  Whether you’re up to working? He sounded concerned about her feelings. But that didn’t make sense. She was his secretary. Why would he care? He was a good boss, not some touchy-feely kind of guy.

  “I’m here,” she said, which should have told him everything.

  But Holt kept insisting. “I know. But I’ll also understand if you need another day.”

  She stared at him. His face didn’t give away anything. Being a CEO—or a gambler—he had to have complete control over his features. She couldn’t tell whether he was disapproving, or if he even knew why Clay had walked out.

  She wasn’t about to give him any more information. “I can work just fine.”

  Clay had probably painted her in the worst light. She’d cheated, no caveat, no mention of the fact that he actually sent her out to screw other men.

  Then she smiled, to take the bite out of her tone. After all, Holt was a man and her boss, and she’d learned at an early age that it was always best to keep the men in your life happy. “But I really appreciate your concern. Is there anything else?”

  He gazed at her a moment longer, his eyes irritatingly unreadable. “No, Ruby. Nothing right now.”

  “I’ll get back to the filing.” She gave him one more smile before she headed out the door. Once she was back at her own desk, the smile faded from her lips.

  Not only had Clay left, worse, he’d talked to Holt about it. That meant things were far more serious than she’d imagined.

  The problem was that Ruby—who had a plan for everything when a man was involved—didn’t have a clue what to do.

  * * * * *

  After his initial apology on Monday, Clay hadn’t said a personal word to her in two days. He was all business all the time. Jessica had waited. Nothing happened. He hadn’t even looked at her like he’d ever touched her. Licked her. Made her come.

  How was she supposed to make him notice her?

  By Wednesday morning, she’d been ready to scream in frustration. Until she’d gotten an idea. A brilliant idea. Right after lunch, she had a meeting with Clay about the construction-in-progress account,.

  And during lunch...

  “That was fucking hot.” Vince. He always knew the right thing to say.

  Jessica licked her fingers, then rubbed his semen into her chest, around her nipples, trailed it down her abdomen.

  They were in her bed; his place was too far away.

  Jessica checked her watch. She had twenty minutes, plenty of time to dress and make it back to work.

  “We should do this more often,” Vince said, relaxing against the pillows, arm over his head, eyes closed, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Lunchtime quickies are great for reenergizing the afternoon.”

  “I usually don’t have time.” Jessica normally showered after a booty call, but she’d seen the benefits of wearing the scent of sex as if it were perfume.

  She didn’t want to think about how she was blurring the lines between work and personal, that she was actually coming on to her boss, that it could only end in—

  “Hey,” Vince said, thankfully cutting into her thoughts. “I got a line on a controller position for you.”

  Her heart jumped all the way to her throat. There was only West Coast, only Clay. Jessica swallowed, ratcheted back. “Oh?” Good, she sounded mildly interested.

  “Jack is turning in his resignation on Friday.” Vince had gotten his current contracting job through his buddy Jack, who happened to be controller.

  Jessica nodded for him to go on, but her belly was crimping. She couldn’t leave West Coast, couldn’t leave Clay. Things had gotten all messed up.

  Vince scrubbed a hand through his gray hair, then smiled. “Give me your resume, and I’ll have him put in a good word for you.”

  She rolled out of bed, reaching for her clothes on the vanity chair. “I have a good shot at making controller at West Coast.”

  Vince snorted. “Look how long you’ve been waiting. They like their good-old-boy network. Women don’t get a chance there.”

  Silicon Valley was a small world, especially when you were a contract tech writer who got around. This wasn’t the first time Vince had said the like.

  “They aren’t sexist,” she insisted, zipping up her skirt. “It has to be the perfect fit.”

  Vince shot her with a finger. “You’re the prefect fit. They should have given you the job already.”

  He was killing her buzz with a dose of reality. But Clay wasn’t like that. He hired the best person, regardless of gender.

  A niggling voice crept into her head. So why was Clay interviewing outsiders this week?

  “He’s going to give me the job,” she said emphatically. Clay wouldn’t pass her over.

  At least she’d been sure of that until Wednesday night, when her whole world had tilted on its axis.

  Vince rolled, then crawled across the bed like a sleek jungle cat, leaning down to grab his jeans. Then he looked at her. “Did you ever think that if you worked at another company, you could have your darling
Mr. Blackwell any time you wanted?”

  “I don’t expect to make these fantasies reality.” But a telltale flush crept across her face. She was not going to tell Vince what she’d done with Mr. Blackwell, or why she’d wanted a lunchtime quickie.

  “You’re living in Lalaland, sweetheart,” Vince said, but his voice held its usual good-natured chuckle.

  “I’ll email you my resume.” She agreed so he’d stop nagging her.

  She finished dressing, freshened her lipstick, fluffed her hair. By the time she was on her way back to the office, she’d convinced herself he was wrong. Everything would be fine. As she walked upstairs to her office, everything else ceased to matter but what happened in the next few minutes behind Clay’s closed door.

  The scent of sex was all over her. Clay would go wild once he got a whiff of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  He’d completed the entire goddamn meeting with the door closed, Jessica’s no-nonsense voice in his ear, and the heat of her thigh only an inch from his. The top three buttons on her blouse were undone beneath her blazer. Clay could smell the sex on her. The only outward effect above the table? His hands shook.

  But below decks, his cock was like iron.

  Goddammit. She’d been out fucking. A lunch-hour booty call. Hadn’t she learned he was attune to whatever she did, that he was the male lion sniffing out every move she made, that he was insane with the thought of another man touching her, fucking her, making her come.

  She was talking, her sexy voice getting under his skin. “Yes,” he said. He’d say yes to anything at this point. He wasn’t listening to a word she said. Instead he was thinking how that prim, professional skirt would look shoved up around her waist.

  “Good,” she said. “Then that’s how we’ll handle the CIP account.”

  What had he agreed to? Who the hell cared? All he wanted to do was bury his face between her breasts, taste her skin, lick her clean.