Deny. Deny. Deny, Avery.
“Uh,” I start, my mind racing as I try to find the words. “I…uh. I’m not sure what you’re talking about?”
He stares at me for a long moment, then raises one eyebrow, like he’s ready to call me on the lie.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Avery? Do you really think I don’t see the way he looks at you? The way you look at him? And before you even consider trying to sell me some bullshit about how you look at him the way you look at all our coworkers, don’t. I already know that’s not true because you don’t look at me that way.” He finally pauses long enough for me to speak.
“I do.” The words are already out before I can even think about what I’m saying.
Did I just admit to my boss that I look at him and my paralegal like I want to rip their clothes off?
He’s going to fire me. Tonight.
“You do what?” he grinds out.
Whatever. I’m in too deep now. Might as well be honest.
“I do look at you that way. I always have. You’re the one who keeps me at arm’s length. And anyway, what do you care how I look at you? You dragged me out to your truck, kissed me, and then pushed me away. You made it pretty clear that whole night was a mistake.”
His jaw ticks. “It was a mistake…but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t want to do it.”
“Okay. Are we done here?” I ask, losing my patience with him.
“No.”
“James, you asked me to stay late, so I did. But I have plans and—”
“With Nash?” he cuts me off.
I scoff. “I never said I was seeing Nash.”
“I thought we already established that I’m not stupid, Avery. How far do you want to push me?” he asks, rolling up the sleeves on his shirt to reveal his tattooed forearms.
I inhale sharply, unsure if it’s a challenge or a threat. Regardless, the way he’s looking at me right now has me wanting to find out exactly how far I can push him.
“And what are you gonna do, James? What was it that you said the other night? Something about punishing me the way you want to? I don’t see how that could be any worse than what you’re already doing. You stomp around here, staring at me all the time. You assign me a shit ton of work, making me stay late most nights. You say and do things to get me all hot and bothered just to turn around and push me away. To what? Confuse me? Embarrass me? What more do you want from me?”
By the time I’m finished, I’m nearly out of breath. The silence stretches between us.
James doesn’t flinch. He just sits there, but I catch the faint tick in his jaw as he absorbs my words.
I expect him to launch into some lecture about professionalism or boundaries, but he surprises me.
He pushes his chair back and says, “Come here.”
“What?” I hesitate, sure I must have misheard him.
“Come. Here,” he repeats himself, his voice low.
I stand slowly, rounding his desk to stand in front of him.
The air is charged, a silent standoff. He leans forward, grabbing the hem of my skirt and pulling me toward him. I gasp at the sudden movement, my hands landing on his shoulders. His hands roam over my thighs and ass on top of my skirt.
I can feel the heat building between my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice a breathy whisper.
“Reminding you that I’m your boss since you seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to.”
