Bigshot Boss: A Bad Boy Office Romance
Page 12
I squirm in my chair. This is torture, pure and simple. It should be illegal. In fact, it probably is in some countries.
Somehow, though, I eventually manage to get my assignment done and emailed off to Charlene. I take lunch by myself and walk around the block a dozen times or so to try to burn off some of this nervous energy.
When I get back to the office, I do a little bit more work and then at long last, it’s almost three.
I make my way discreetly to the elevator. I can feel Sloane’s eyes on me but I refuse to meet her gaze. I hate having to lie to her — and to Ally — but I don’t know what else to do.
As soon as the elevator door closes behind me, I put it out of my mind. I pop a breath mint, reapply my lipgloss, and ready myself to see the man who’s been haunting my dreams.
I find him in his office waiting for me. He looks just as sexy as I remember. This time he’s wearing a dark charcoal suit and a deep maroon colored tie that brings out his eyes.
“Hi,” I say. I suddenly feel shy. He somehow has that affect on me, even now.
He doesn’t say anything, just nods with his chin at something behind me.
I turn and see the chair. My breath hitches in my throat but I force a smile. “Huh. You do have one of these chairs in here.”
He chuckles. “Did you think I was lying?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He crosses the room and drops onto the chair. He gives me a grin that makes me shiver and then beckons me over to him. Unlike the other times I’ve been in his office, this time I don’t hesitate. I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck.
His lips are the drug I’ve been craving and as soon as I feel them, my entire body relaxes. I melt into him.
For the longest time, we just kiss. Like teenagers. Only I feel wilder and more delirious than I ever did back then, with those awkward high school boyfriends.
Soon I’m burrowing down into him, grinding my hips against his. I can feel him getting hard underneath me and it turns me on immediately. Memories of our night in the SUV come crashing back, and soon I need to feel his cock inside me again. My body craves it. My pussy aches for it.
“I want you,” I whisper in his ear.
He makes a sound that’s something between a groan and a roar. I reach down to stroke his cock through his pants and he nips playfully at my ear, making me giggle.
Neither of us are interested in any more foreplay. I stand up just long enough to shimmy my panties down and kick them over to the side, while Trent undoes his pants and yanks his dick out. He strokes it slowly while I hover over him and then I climb back in his lap.
I hold myself over him again and slowly, oh so slowly, sink down. He’s so huge that he stretches me completely — if he was even a fraction of an inch bigger I don’t know if I could do this, but he’s the perfect size to fill me.
I bite my lip at the searing pain — a pain that’s mixed with equal parts pleasure — until he’s finally fully inside me.
“You’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. His words make my pussy spasm in pleasure and he groans again.
I start moving my hips against his, slowly at first. I’m just starting to pick up speed, moaning in his ear, when …
Knock, knock.
His office door.
Trent holds a finger to his lips. “Ignore it.” He mouths. He rocks his hips against me again but I’m frozen in place.
“Mr. Whittaker?” Oh God. That voice. It’s …
“Mr. Whittaker? It’s Charlene from Marketing. I need to speak to you about the catalog.”
“It’s my boss!” I hiss.
Charlene starts to twist the doorknob.
29
Hannah
I hop off of Trent’s lap and he hastily stuffs himself back in his pants. I smooth my dress down and try to get my breathing under control. My heart is racing and I’m sure my skin is flushed bright pink.
“Sorry,” she’s saying, as she pulls the door open and steps into Trent’s office. “Your secretary wasn’t there and it’s really important that I speak to you …”
She trails off as she notices me standing there.
“Hannah.”
“Hi Charlene.”
“What are you doing here?” Her voice is as cold as ice.
“Hannah was here to discuss some catalog copy with me. I wanted to get her opinion on naming some of the new fabrics and colorways we’re going to be using on this chair.”
He gestures to the chair we were just sitting in and I almost — almost — laugh. That’s when I notice my panties balled up on the floor next to the chair.
I try to catch Trent’s eye but he’s too busy staring down Charlene.
“I see,” she says, because there’s not much else she can say to him. Me, on the other hand — me she lances with the iciest eye daggers I’ve ever seen.
“We were just finishing,” I assure Charlene and stare pointedly at Trent. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Whittaker.”
“Of course,” he says politely. “Thank you for your most valuable input.”
I hightail it out of there before either of them can say anything further and then I race to the elevator. My heart is threatening to beat straight out of my chest and even when I’m back down on the eighteenth floor, I don’t even begin to relax until I’ve been sitting at my desk for a good ten minutes.
That was … God. That was way too close. I can’t believe we almost got caught. What am I doing?
I’m still shaking a few minutes later when the elevator doors ping open and Charlene walks out. Her eyes zero in on me immediately. She has to walk by my desk anyway to get to her office so I put my head down and try to look busy, but it doesn’t work.
“I would like to see you in my office, please,” she hisses as she goes by.
I get up on shaky legs and follow her across the room and into her office. She closes the door behind us and gestures at the guest chair across from her desk.
My heart is in my throat. This is it. I’m going to be fired.
Charlene turns to her computer. “I’d like to read you something,” she says brusquely.
Read me something? My mind is racing through the possibilities. Oh God.
Our Lovemail messages. Somehow she found out about them.
I brace myself as she starts reading.
“The toned arms will ripple delicately under your finger tips. The firm back will cradle you from behind, pressing against you, cushioning you, perfectly firm and yet soft at the same time. Sink into its bliss, let it caress the full length of your body … shall I go on?”
It takes me a second to even realize what she’s reading but then I finally figure it out: it’s the chair copy I sent her earlier today.
My cheeks go bright red. I hadn’t realized until I heard her read it out loud how utterly … well, pornographic it sounds.
Charlene shakes her head. “This is basically erotica, Hannah. We can’t publish this.”
“I’m sorry. I was … trying something new. I’ll rewrite it.”
“Yes, you will. I want a new copy in my inbox by tomorrow morning. I don’t care if you have to stay late to finish it.”
“I understand.” I start to get up and she doesn’t stop me so I breathe out a sigh of relief. I can’t believe I dodged that bullet.
I’m just about to pull open the door when Charlene speaks again.
“Hannah?”
“Yes?” I turn reluctantly around.
“If you ever go over my head with Trent Whittaker again, I’ll fire you so fast your head will spin.”
Her voice is icy cold and I don’t doubt that she means business.
“Yes ma’am,” I say, and then scuttle out of her office as fast as I can.
Once I’m back at my desk I collapse into my chair and put my head on the desk. The cool laminate surface feels good against my hot skin.
This is a disaster. I have to put a stop to this.
I pick
up my phone. My hands are still shaking. I flick over to the Lovemail app and am just about to delete it when the phone buzzes in my hand.
“You have 1 new Lovemail message.”
30
lovemail
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: Well
That was a disaster. (And more than a little frustrating, I might add.)
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Ugh
It was worse for me. (The disaster part, I mean.)
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: :(
Did I get you in trouble?
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: re: :(
No, I got me in trouble.
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: re: :(
So maybe seeing each other at work is a bad idea.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: :P
You think?
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: re: :P
Fine. Well, how about this — I’m going out to the country to visit Luke this weekend, on Saturday. Why don’t you come with me? You can see where the sausage gets made.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Sausage? Seriously?
Well, as weird — and strangely delicious — as that sounds, I have plans to hang out with my sister this weekend.
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: Metaphorical sausage, silly
Bring her along.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: I wish
Ha. She’d love that, but it’s not that simple.
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: ?
Why not?
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Because … reasons
I think I mentioned she has MS. She’s in a wheelchair.
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: Those aren’t very good reasons
I remember — but that’s totally fine. We can make it work.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Really?
She needs some special accommodations —I mean, not a lot, she’s pretty used to the chair, but…
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: Seriously
Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Maybe
Okay - well, let me talk to her. No promises though.
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: :)
From you, I’ll take even the promise of a promise.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Are you for real?
… That was so cheesy.
From: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
To: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
Subject: They call me the appeteaser
Cheese and sausage, baby. That’s how I roll.
From: sweetvixen@lovemail.com
To: misterbigshot@lovemail.com
Subject: Weirdo
I’m … logging off now.
31
Hannah
I find Ally, as always, parked on the couch. She’s eating something out of a brown ceramic bowl.
“I made fruit salad,” she says. “A big bowl of it. In the fridge if you want some.”
“Thanks.” Fruit salad does sound good, actually. I haven’t had much appetite since what happened in Trent’s office.
I go get a bowl and then take it back into the living room.
“So, you know how we’re going to hang out on Saturday?”
Ally turns to look at me suspiciously. “Are you canceling?”
“No! No, not at all. Actually, I have something kinda cool we can do.”
“Oh?”
“How would you like to go to the Loft & Barn workshop?”
“The workshop?” Ally’s eyes are already gleaming.
“Yeah. It’s where Luke Whittaker designs all the furniture.”
“Are you kidding? That is so cool!”
“Right?” I knew she’d be into it.
“How in the hell did you get me an invite? Is this a company trip?”
“No, actually, it’s … uh… a private tour, I guess you could say.”
Ally’s eyes narrow again. “What do you mean?”
“Remember I told you about how I’d been emailing that guy and he turned out to be my boss? Well, we’re kind of still keeping in touch. And he invited us out on Saturday to see the shop. Just us and him and Luke.”
I can see the war playing out on Ally’s face. She wants to be pissed at me for still being in touch with Trent — but she’s also desperate to go out to Luke’s studio.
“How deep are you?” she finally asks.
“Not deep at all!” I say quickly. “Well. Just a little deep. We’re sleeping together.” I admit. I hate keeping secrets from my sister.
“Hannah!” Ally looks horrified.
“He’s different than I thought!” I tell her. “Honest. He’s actually really sweet.” And sexy as hell, I add mentally.
“He could still fire you if this goes south.”
I shake my vehemently. “He wouldn’t.” I don’t mention that even if he wouldn’t, Charlene definitely might. No need to bother her with that little detail.
Ally is shaking her head. “I don’t know, Han. You say that now, but in a few weeks, when he’s moved on to the new flavor of the month, what are you going to do?”
“Thanks a lot.” Her words make me feel physically ill. Was she right? Was Trent just going to get bored in a couple of weeks?
“I’m sorry. It’s not a comment about you, I’m just trying to be realistic. How do you really know you can count on this guy?”
How did I know? I didn’t. All I had was the way I felt when we were together. The way he kissed me. The way he made me laugh. The way I made him laugh.
That had to count for something, didn’t it?
I shake my head, trying to clear it. This was stupid — it didn’t matter if she was right or not. Trent and I had agreed that this was just sex — so even if it did go downhill in a few weeks, that was okay. We would part ways amicably and that would be that.
Easy as pie, right?
I stab a piece of pineapple with my fork and bite down on it so hard that my teeth snap together.
“Do you want to go or not?” I ask Ally. I can’t help the irritation that seeps into my voice. “I just have to let him know one way or another.”
My sister stares at me for a moment, then gives me a half smile. “Please. Of course I want to go. Plus it’ll give me a chance to scope this guy out. Make sure he’s good enough for you.”
I can’t help but smile. “I think you’re going to like him,” I assure her.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she snarks back, but she’s smiling and I feel my irritation quickly start to dissipate. Funny how sisters can have that affect on you.
The next morning, I manage to sneak into the office without running into Charlene — or Sloane — but my luck only holds out until ten o’c
lock or so.
Charlene emerges from her office and claps her hands — her signal that we’re all to gather in the middle of the room. I pull my chair over along with everyone else, but I try to stick to the back so that I’m not directly in her line of sight. I had sent off my revised copy last night before I went home, but I hadn’t heard anything back from her about it, and right now I didn’t want to do anything else to draw her attention to me.
“Okay, people,” she trills, sounding relatively cheerful at least. “The photos and the product lists are starting to come through and that means we have a lot to get done in the next few weeks.” She pauses and looks out over us dramatically. “Unfortunately that means we’re going to have to work some weekends.”
There’s a collective groan in the room. We all knew it was coming but now it’s real.
“I’ve divvied up the team so that everyone only has to work every second weekend, which I think is more than fair. This weekend we have Jim, Hannah, Judy and Grant. Next weekend will be Corbin, Sloane, Sakshi, and Manny. We’ll rotate that schedule for as long as it continues to be feasible, but if we need to reevaluate, we will. Everyone clear?”
There’s another grumbling in the room but it’s more resigned this time. I can’t help but catch Sloane’s eye — she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. We both noted the fact that Charlene was nowhere on that list.
We go back to our desks and I’m just getting into the groove of my work again when someone comes to stand behind me and roughly spins my chair around.
“Huh?” I scramble as my earbuds are yanked out of my ears and I accidentally fling my mouse on the floor.