Page 40 of Under Her

I can see the lines of stress caused by my sexual frustration etched around my eyes.

Ugh.

Solely wanting Morgan is even causing me premature aging.

For fuck’s sake.

I drop my forehead against the mirror and let out a groan.

I’m so fucking horny, it hurts.

I stand back, away from the mirror, and decide to get dressed.

But, when I open the door and step out of my bathroom and into my office, as I left my work clothes in there, I’m halted in my tracks, finding Sierra sitting on the edge of my desk, waiting for me.

“Hi,” I say slowly, cautiously.

“Hi.” She smiles, like it’s not odd that she’s here, in my office.

“Where’s Chrissy?” I ask, my eyes going to the door, as if I can magic her up just by looking at it.

She shrugs. “Lunch, if I had to guess.”

Great. So, I’m here alone with her. And I’m dressed in nothing but a towel.

I haven’t had a chance to have a talk with Sierra. I’ve been too busy. Mostly working with Morgan on the proposal. And, on the few occasions that I have seen Sierra, I’ve been with Morgan, and that’s definitely not a chat I’m having around her.

“So, um…what are you doing in here, Sierra?” I curl my fingers into the waistband of my towel, getting a firm hold on it.

“I want to talk.”

And, from the way her eyes drag down my body, pausing on my cock area, and how she grazes her teeth over her lower lip, I know talking’s not the only thing she wants to do.

As if my life isn’t fucked up enough as it is, I now have to deal with this.

“Well, just let me get dressed, and we can talk.”

I start to move across the room to grab my clothes, but she hops off my desk, blocking my path.

“Sierra…” My tone is a warning.

But it’s one that she doesn’t heed because she advances on me. I back up because I don’t know what the fuck else to do, and before I know it, my back is against the wall, and she’s pressed up against me.

“I thought you’d come for me, but you haven’t, and I’m bored of waiting, Wild. So, I’m here to take what I want. And I want you.”

Ah, shit.

She trails a finger down my chest, and I catch hold of her wrist.

She doesn’t look pissed off. She looks…excited. I guess she likes it rough. Not that I remember anything from that night.

“It’s not going to happen, Sierra.”

Her eyes flicker with dislike, but she doesn’t move away.

“I’m your boss.”

“Morgan’s my boss,” she counters.