by Elaria Ride
Of course, being a single parent does present its own problems.
Even if I'd been interested in dating, I wouldn't have anyone to watch Marco — and I don't trust him with just anyone. His daycare provider was carefully vetted, and she only works during the day. The only other person I trust him with is Sylvie, my boss from the old location. Sylvie’s watched Marco on several occasions, but mostly when Mike and I had legal stuff to straighten out. She’s a natural with kids, even if she swears up and down she’ll never want any of her own.
Oh, yeah… and also there’s the issue of my body — which has never been what you'd call athletic or svelte in the first place. I’ve had a huge ass since early puberty, except I’m also thick in a number of places that similarly thick celebrities have managed to surgically reduce.
It would be hard for me to fathom anyone’s body looking worse after birth than mine had, but my breasts have gotten (and stayed) larger, which I don’t mind. Still, seeing someone right now is at the bottom of my list of priorities; I’m making it by just fine with my salary, but I don’t exactly have a lot of extra money for things like dates and clothes.
So when Sylvie, my former boss, had approached me about a transfer last month, I hadn't been in any position to refuse. She’d explained that her brother, Finn, owns the new location, and that he’d been in need of strong employees. According to her, my presence had also been "specifically requested" to fill that void — to the tune of a 25% raise.
I couldn't possibly have turned that down, even if it meant a longer commute. I'd tried to press for more information on why Finn had requested me, specifically, but Sylvie had just given me her trademark smirk and refused to divulge anything.
Sylvie had also failed to mention that her brother is absolutely gorgeous and easily the hottest man I’ve ever seen. So in a way, she’s to blame for my…distraction.
Anyway, here I am, just one day on the job.
And, of course, in true Marina fashion, it looks like I've already blown it.
I’d never dropped a single glass of wine the whole year I worked at the other winery, and I’ve managed to destroy an entire case today.
Pathetically, all I’d had to do was make eye contact with Finn when he walked in the door. A single glance at his all-American smile, at his chiseled jaw, as his rippling muscles, had caused a level of destruction that even I hadn’t made before.
Lovely.
I bite my lip, staring at my feet.
Honestly, I wish Finn would get this shit over with; I deserve to lick my wounds and return home.
As if on cue, the office door creaks open, wrenching me from my thoughts.
"Marina?" calls a deep, lumbering voice from inside.
I swallow. It's now or never. So I tilt my chin up and march through that doorway: If he wants to fire me, so be it.
I take a few steps inside and close the door with as much docility as I can muster.
Finn — my boss, the one I’d literally dropped an entire case of wine over — is sitting calmly behind the desk, looking unfairly attractive with his huge beard, red flannel shirt and rippling muscles.
But as hot as he is, he looks so out of place in this setting that I almost laugh before I catch myself. In an office adorned with mahogany and Tiffany lamps, he's vaguely reminiscent of Paul Bunyan in Buckingham Palace.
"Yes?" I ask, in my best attempt at being polite.
He glances up at me from his wing-backed chair and offers a gentle smile, gesturing to the empty seat in front of his desk. I sit down as my heart thunders in my chest, and I start fiddling with my hands, purely out of a need to do something.
There are few more beats of strained silence as I continue to stare at my lap. I squeeze my hands even harder, so hard that my rings slide and down my fingers.
Seriously, what the hell is going on? What kind of boss requests your presence in his office and they does absolutely nothing when you’re inside?
I give him a few more moments to collect himself before finally ripping my head up to stare at him…and it’s then that I directly meet his intense gaze.
Oh.
I’ve never seen him this close before, but for the first time, I notice that his eyes are a sort of rich tawny brown. They’re deep-set. Big. Kind-looking.
He clears his throat and I blush.
Great. He caught me staring at him. Remind me, again, why the hell this man is allowed to be so handsome?
“Marina,” Finn begins softly, folding his massive hands on top of his desk. He stares down at them like there’s something uncomfortable he has to say… something he’d sooner avoid.
Well, that more or less settles it, doesn’t it?
I am getting fired.
I grit my teeth and glare down at my lap again. All of a sudden, I feel like that little submissive version of myself again — the one who had been under Mike’s control way too long.
I take a deep breath and remember my promise to myself: I can’t afford to let this man have the upper-hand. I just moved to a new job site — because of him! My commute is now twice as long, which means I’m forced to spend less time with Marco. The raise is nice, but not enough to justify a termination on my permanent work history.
No. I’m not doing this. He can’t fire me; I don’t even care about a damn severance package. I’m far from being useless or unskilled. I’ll get back on my feet, with or without anyone’s help.
I’m quitting.
I clear my throat, preparing my voice to exude a confidence I don’t feel.
“Finn,” I start, interweaving my hands. “I won’t let you fire me.” I shift a little in my seat and turn to face him, summoning as much pride as I can muster. “Because I quit.”
At my pronouncement, an awkward silence fills the space between us.
Almost immediately, I get that crawling, tingling feeling on the back of my neck, one which suggests I’ve completely misread something. I look at him, confused.
Finn’s eyes are filled with a combination of bewilderment and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, like he has no idea who or what is sitting in front of him
“Um… what the hell are you talking about?” he asks, incredulous.
I arch an eyebrow; I know they say brawny isn’t brainy, but even he can’t be this thick.
“I won’t allow you to fire me,” I repeat slowly, blinking. “For breaking all the—” I give a vague wave over my shoulder in the general direction of the tasting room.
“Oh!” Finn releases a gentle chuckle as his posture visibly relaxes. “No, no…sorry I — ”
Then he stops abruptly, cocking his head. “Wait, did you seriously think I called you in here to fire you?”
He peers back at me with such an earnest, innocent look that I can’t help but believe him.
Weird.
“Uh, well, yeah.” I’d have thought that much was obvious.
He gives me that charming little laugh again.
“Marina,” he sighs, shaking his head. “You know how many bottles of wine I’ve dropped? You know how many cases I’ve dropped? If I’d gotten fired for every single time I was a klutz—”
“— yeah, but you own the place!” I cut across him. “What are you going to do? Fire yourself?”
The second the words leave my lips, I clamp my mouth shut. It occurs to me that if I’d said that to Mike, he would have fixed me with a mean stare and clenched his jaw. And he probably would have put a freeze on my bank account, just for my cheek.
But almost as quickly, I realize that Finn isn’t Mike.
He’s not glaring and judging…he’s just staring at me with a playful smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
“So you are from New York,” he says, as if that explains my behavior. His smile evolves into a full-on grin. “I wasn’t sure.”
I make a face. “Yeah, sorry. The accent likes to slip in, especially when I’m being a smart ass.”
&nbs
p; Finn lets out a booming laugh. His hands come up to cup the back of his head as he reclines back in his chair, and I can’t help but notice how the fibers of his flannel shirt stretch at the muscles of his pecs and forearms.
Honestly, can you blame me? He’s quite…yummy.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he says, oblivious to the fact that I’m staring him down. “Because I happen to like smart asses.”
I blush a little and shift in my seat again.
Ok…he couldn’t possibly be flirting with me…right?
He has to know enough about me from Sylvie — I was fairly close with her, after all. There’s no way my history missed him completely: I’m a fat single mom with so much baggage that even Southwest Airlines would charge me extra.
But then I cock my head, allowing myself to take him in, to read him like I’d read the body language of any bar patron. There’s definitely something in the air between us that feels…charged.
I know it’s completely inappropriate. I know I just met him. I know he’s my boss. But still… I can’t help but think those eyes of his would be smoldering, penetrating, during sex.
Yes…I can see it now…I’d slide myself down on his cock, feeling him groan beneath me, and he’d just peer up at me with those eyes as I rode us both into oblivion —
He clears his throat, ripping me from my scandalized thoughts.
Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s almost like I’m trying to get fired.
I bite my lip and glance back at him, hoping he has no idea what I’ve just been envisioning.
“I didn’t call you in here to fire you,” he says, with a newfound air of directness. I can’t help but notice, though, that his voice sounds gravelly, almost like he’s been thinking about me just like I’ve been thinking about him…
“Look,” he sighs, running his hands down his face. “I called you in here to introduce myself.”
For some reason, his cheeks redden; he stares at a spot above my head, like he has something else to say that he’d rather not share.
But unlike him, I don’t have time for this, regardless of how gorgeous he is. Or how much I want him.
“And?” I prompt, arching an eyebrow.
His eyes flit down to mine again.
“And,” he continues, the slight pink tinge of his cheeks having escalated to a full-chest flush. “I requested you from the other branch…because of your people skills.”
…Wait, what?!
Haha!
Yeah, ok, that’s a good one.
I snort, unable to help myself; he’s definitely full of shit.
“Because of my people skills,” I deadpan, crossing my arms over my chest.
But he just dismisses my rebuttal with a wave of his hand. “No, seriously, Marina. I’m not kidding. I’ve watched you a lot, and today alone I’ve seen how well you handled— ”
And perhaps because of my so-called “people skills,” only one part of what he’s saying even registers with me.
“ —you watch me a lot?” I demand, torn between being amused and alarmed.
There is a pause in which his blush extends all the way to the roots of his hair. He groans at his inadvertent admission before bringing his enormous hands up to cover his face.
I giggle from my seat in front of him.
Yeah. I’m definitely feeling amused over alarmed…despite his size, Finn couldn’t be threatening if he tried.
Still, I want to give him a chance to regain some semblance of his pride; I sit quietly in front of him and wait for him to make the next move, even as my heart thuds loudly in my chest.
In the mounting silence, I’m suddenly filled with this thrilling combination of trepidation and excitement, an exhilarating butterflies-in-the-stomach type feeling that I haven’t allowed myself to feel since the whole Mike clusterfuck began.
I bite my lip. Finn’s reaction confirms it, doesn’t it? This gorgeous, muscular lumberjack is actually attracted…to me.
Somehow.
My eyes rake over his sinewy form, over the tendons of his forearms connected to the palms that are still covering his face.
Well, what was it my abuela always said? Corazón no es traidor…the heart sees further than the head.
If he’s actually attracted to me, I’m not going to question it; my actions in the past few hours definitely suggest how badly I need to get laid. I squirm a little in my seat, but for entirely different reasons than before; I can now feel a liquid pounding in my center, pooling between my—
“Marina,” he blurts, interrupting my raunchy contemplations. His face is still bright red, and now he’s staring down at the table.
“Finn,” I repeat, just as forcefully. I can’t suppress the smirk that’s tugging at the corners of my lips.
He takes a deep breath, and I can tell that whatever he plans to say next has taken him some time to admit.
A second later, I’m proven correct.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he whispers, eyes still downcast. His words are so quiet, so quick, that they’re almost strung together.
A silence hangs between us again as I let his words wash over me.
Goddamnit. Why does he have to be adorable on top of everything else?
“You think I’m beautiful?” I echo, genuinely seeking an answer. I know he’s attracted to me; that much is obvious. But to think I’m beautiful…?
He gives a curt nod, finally raising his eyes to meet mine.
Fuck…I was right; his eyes are absolutely smoldering when he’s turned on.
Which I now know — beyond a shadow of a doubt — that he is.
I swallow and stare right back at him.
That charge has returned to the air between us, almost like an electric current that draws us together. I watch his chest rise and fall quickly, just as mine is… and my eyes are compelled to stare at his lips.
Oh my… those lips. They’re slightly parted as he takes shallow breaths, and they look like they’d be perfect for kissing, long and slow. When his tongue darts out to moisten them, I can’t help my mind from constructing a scene in which I’m spread out before him on the desk, that brown hair bobbing between my thighs.
I’m so lost in the fantasy that I don’t even notice that his eyes are trained on my mouth, too. I glance up at his eyes again. Shit. They’re hooded, pulsating with lust, even deeper than they were before.
And all of a sudden, a thought dances across my mind: I’m going to kiss him.
I’m not sure how I know that, exactly… I just do. It’s one of those facts of life: The sky is blue. The grass is green. And I’m going to kiss him.
As if on cue, our bodies begin to drift closer and closer until I’m leaning on the desk, and he’s fully tilted forward in his chair.
For just a moment, we share each other’s space, our mouths mere centimeters apart. We’re so close I can smell his aftershave, so close I can smell lingering remnants of sawdust on his clothes. And the moment is so heated, so ready, that I’m not even sure which one of us moves first…
Our lips finally meld together, sliding on top of each other from across his desk. Fuck… his lips are heaven; I release a soft moan as they gently, coaxingly caress mine.
I’ve never been kissed like this: That much is for sure. I’ve never been treated to what a kiss like this can do to a girl… I’ve never considered that something so tender, so imploring, would be just as capable of reducing me to a pulsing puddle of want.
I brace myself on my palms and tilt even closer; I need to feel more of him. Finn groans from deep in his throat as he arches against me, his hand coming up to caress the base of my neck. Our height difference is so pronounced that I’m nearly as tall as him, even though he remains seated.
Hell… he’s an amazing kisser. The best I’ve ever experienced, if I’m being honest with myself.
His lips provide the perfect pressure — soft but insistent, and for the first time in my life, I can tell that I’m kissing someone who not only tol
erates me taking the lead… but encourages it. So I allow myself to dominate, allow myself to seize control of what I want. Of what I’ve always wanted.
Without a second thought, I extend my tongue forward, pressing it against the gentle pivot of his lips, and I’m rewarded with his throaty groan. It’s a deep, primal sound, one that sends even more liquid trickling to my panties, my hands gripping his muscled arms.
We get lost in the kiss for a few more moments and I’m surprised to find that my hands have naturally drifted to the hem of his flannel shirt. With a newfound sense of bravery, my fingers to move up up up beneath the fabric…and yess…he’s not wearing an undershirt. He’s still panting in my mouth as I begin caressing the muscled planes of his stomach and sides.
I continue my explorations across his abs, and he starts making the most delicious grunting sounds from the back of this throat. I feel his arm reach around to touch me, too, just on the swell of my stomach —
But unfortunately, this is where everything falls apart.
Because now all I can think about is the last man who touched my stomach. Now all I can remember is how rude and nasty he’d been in describing how my stomach looked after I’d given birth to our son.
Now all I can think about is how I’d caught him screwing someone in his office.
Just like I’m about to do.
Shit.
I freeze beneath his touch as the moment shatters, right before my eyes. Finn releases me without question, and we turn away from each other, still panting in the confines of this office, one in which the atmosphere has risen several degrees.
I bite my lip, desperately trying to regain control of my libido. For a second there, I’d actually allowed myself to believe I was someone else…actually allowed myself to believe a hook-up might be possible.
But things like that aren’t possible for girls like me, are they?
“Shit. I’m… I’m sorry, Marina,” Finn mutters a few seconds later. “This was completely unprofessional of me.” His face is bright red again, although his voice has taken on a gravelly timbre that betrays the sentiment behind his words.
