We’re covered in sweat, and once I untangle from Bill, I begin to shiver. The seventy-degree temperature of the room feels like forty. Bill goes to the bathroom (allowing me to check out his ass once more) and comes back with towels for us. I lay it out on top of the bed, the lower half of my body still wobbly. The upper half is out of it, too.
I can honestly say I’ve never been fucked like that.
Bill pours us two glasses of water from the courtesy bottle. He sits next to me. His chest hair is matted down thanks to my sweaty self. I want to cuddle with him, continue to cocoon myself in his large, broad frame, but I’m not sure of the protocol here. I got to fuck my boss…now what? Do we go back to normal? Will I be sleeping on the pullout now that he’s pulled out of me?
Silence takes over the room. Slipping into conversation post-sex is difficult for any pairing. It’s ten times more excruciating now.
“So that happened.” I let out an awkward chuckle.
“Did it live up to your fantasy?” Bill says sarcastically, though I detect an earnest curiosity underneath.
“If this were a performance review, I’d give you a five out of five. Exceeded expectations.”
“Same. You get the max merit-based raise. You went above and beyond.” Bill cracks a big, beautiful smile, his teeth gleaming against his dark beard.
If only all performance reviews could be this enthralling.
“We both overdelivered on each other’s fantasies,” he says.
“Each other’s fantasies?” I cock an eyebrow, wondering if I misheard. “You fantasized about me?”
“Oh yeah. The tight pants you wear in the office didn’t help.” Bill falls back on the bed, and I fall with him. I rest my head on the soft underside of his bicep. “Fuck. How is this going to work tomorrow?”
“We’ll take the train to the airport, and when we land, I’ll call us an Uber.”
“Not that.” Bill waves his finger between us. “This.”
Right. It’ll be much tougher for me since I doubt I’ll be able to walk properly on top of acting properly.
He turns to face me, his eyes glistening with remnants of afterglow, sparkly flecks in the darkness. “When you…told me what you wanted to do tonight, you said it wouldn’t matter tomorrow. What did you mean?”
My stomach twists with the truth. I don’t want to ruin this perfect night, but I also can’t lie to Bill.
“Tomorrow I’m giving my two weeks notice. I’m quitting.”
7
BILL
And I thought fucking Tate had already knocked all the wind out of me.
“You’re quitting?” I ask.
“I was planning on putting in my notice when we returned from the conference.”
Well that explains his boldness tonight. HR violations and weird dynamics with your boss are meaningless when you’re leaving the company.
“I didn’t want to tell you during MCI because you had so many important meetings and were negotiating that big partnership deal. And…it’s not an easy thing, quitting a job and a boss you like.”
This is business. It’s not personal. But when you’re lying naked with your assistant, how can you tell the difference? The idea of losing Tate stings hard.
“Where are you going? How much are they offering? I can beat it.” I don’t want to lose Tate. Not only because he’s a phenomenal assistant. How can I get through a day of work without seeing his sunny face in the office? How can I build trust and a shorthand with a brand new person?
“It’s not about money.” Tate turns on his side, props himself up on his elbow. “I’m going to be the EA for a CEO of this biotech startup that’s developing breakthrough cancer treatments. They just raised a new round of funding based on some promising drug trials. I feel a calling to them.”
“Because of your grandmother,” I say.
“You remembered?”
