“I’ve never known anyone to complain of more inches,” he mutters.
Sweet Santa, did he just make a dirty joke? I stifle my laugh just in time. There’s a prickle between my legs, but more than that, I feel giddy. He’s relaxing a bit, letting down his walls. Letting his personality peek out. Maybe coming to this house was a good idea. “More isn’t always better.”
“Oh, Wellesley, you must know by now that more isn’t just better, it’s the best. Never settle for less, darling.”
Darling?
He moves so he’s standing right behind me. If I backed up a little to the left, I’d be in his arms again.
I take a deep inhale of his signature cologne. It’s woodsy and fresh with notes of birch and vetiver, and also hints of something sweet, like pineapple. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever smelled. I want to roll around in it and rub myself against him.
We’re cozied up together in a beautiful mansion with only a few inches of space between us. This is basically the start to my Dread Lord Fantasy No. Seventy-Five, the one where hehas a black turtleneck and calls me something endearing, like ‘sweetheart.’Darling.He still has his cutting wit, but he’s kind to me. Until he rips my clothes off and fucks me on the floor.
Or was it the bed? The floor might be Fantasy No. Seventy Six.
That’s right, I’ve fantasized about my boss so much that I’ve catalogued them. It’s bad.
But it doesn’t matter, because my fantasies will never, ever happen.
“You know, this is the perfect sort of place to take a vacation,” I venture. “Some time off. No meetings, no email.”
“Oh? And just who would be on this vacation with me?” He murmurs over my shoulder. The fine hairs on my neck stand at attention.
I fight to keep my voice steady. “A few friends.”
“Friends?” His gentle touch on my elbow turns me to face him. I’m still in my heeled boots, yet he towers over me. His face is blank, but his tone is self-deprecating. “What friends?”
Oh, right, he doesn’t have friends. Not since Marty passed.
“Maybe a… lady friend?” My heart is thumping so loud, he can probably hear it. I can’t believe I’m being so bold. I can’t believe he’s standing so close to me. If I lean in, I could lay my head on his chest.Fantasy No. Sixty Two.I’m aching for it.
“Lady friend?” His voice is low, almost a purr. “Who would you recommend?”
I can’t focus. He’s looking at me too intently. I lick my lips, and his gaze drops to my mouth.
Then I remember the tall blonde who strides into his office every Tuesday at two, and the warm fuzzy feelings disappear like I’ve been splashed with ice water. I could mention ‘Scary Sandra,’ but I don’t want to. The thought of him coming here with her makes me want to puke.
I’ve reluctantly accepted the fact that she’s the woman he’s chosen because who wouldn’t choose her? She’s striking, elegant, and put together.
Pretty much the opposite of me.
I take a few steps back, keeping my voice breezy. “Oh, I’m sure you can find someone to tolerate you. Lots of ladies would like to cozy up to your bank account.” I can’t believe I’m being so cheeky, but the crinkles around his eyes tell me he’s enjoying it.
“I don’t want them,” he says, and I feel even warmer. If this were Fantasy No. Twenty-Two, he’d sayI want you,right before ripping my clothes off and fucking me hard in front of the fireplace.
Never gonna happen.
I clear my throat. “Maybe you’ll meet one at the Thruster’s New Year’s party.”
His expression changes so quickly, I get whiplash. A storm cloud passes over his face.
“Enough dawdling.” His icy tone makes me shiver. “Let’s get to work.” He spins on his heel and strides away.
I stand frozen, cold to the bone.What just happened?For a moment, we were flirting just like in my fantasies, but it was real and wonderful. And then he just… changed.
What did I say?
“Hurry up, Wellesley,” he barks. He’s halfway down the hall. “Shanghai opens in ninety minutes.”
