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Suddenly this new job isn’t looking so bad after all.
Not too bad at all.
Chapter Three
Becky
Going from the view of Dillon’s huge body, my hands on his rock hard abs and his to die for good looks, to my boss?
Well. It’s enough to make my panty fountain dry up.
It’s like cream versus moldy old cheese. And Dillon is the cream. I can feel it.
I want it. Want him. Deep inside me, and I only just met him like twenty seconds ago.
Mr. Sawyer motions hastily for me to come in and shut the door.
I stand in front of his huge desk, feeling like a school kid about to either get praised or punished.
I know I’m safe from the lecherous advances of my boss, so what gives in calling me in on my own time?
I would ask. I should ask, but being out of my apartment is one more way I can avoid another run-in with my landlord who also happens to be my downstairs neighbor.
“Well, you’ve met Dillon,” he says, almost accusingly as he scans my chest before my face.
Old habits, I guess.
“You okay?” he asks suddenly, which is rich coming from him. The guy looks positively unwell, way worse than I remember him looking back when I first got this job.
Might have something to do with all those all night drinking bingers and gambling sessions, but who cares. As long as he keeps paying me, I’ll do my job.
“I’m fine,” I reply, my voice cracking and my cheeks flushing in tune with the heat between my legs.
The memory of Dillon is hard to erase. I’m standing right where he just stood, breathing in his manly scent, and that cologne.
Whatever it is, I want a bathtub full of it to dip everything I own into it in sequence. Forever reminding me of today.
Reminding me of him.
I feel my whole body flush with heat and then cold as I realize…
Crap. I’m gonna have to work with this guy.
He’s gonna watch me for like ten hours a day, five days a week.
I swallow hard, trying to find spit for my mouth but only finding a dry tongue catching in my throat.
“Are. You. Okay?” my boss asks, cupping both his chubby hands around his mouth like a megaphone, startling me back to reality.
“I’m fine,” I smile, clearing my throat and managing to wet my lips just enough to speak.
“Well, don’t go getting sick on me. I’m already down two for tonight,” he grumbles, his brow clouding over as he reminds himself of something that looks like causes him worry and pain.
Like maybe an employee calling him out for being a sleazoid?
“I’m fine, Mr. Sawyer,” I chirp, showing him just why I’m still the best girl for the job.
Always smiling. Always lying to assholes like him. Always gonna turn up for work, especially now that Dillon’s gonna be here.
“Humph,” he murmurs to himself, eyeing his vodka bottle again.
“You’re safe with him,” Mr. Sawyer tells me, a matter of fact.
“Trying anything not work related with him… that would end badly,” he reflects with a frown, absently pouring himself a huge drink and taking the whole thing in one loud gulp.
“Badly?” I ask, looking interested but feeling a stab of hurt in my chest, knowing exactly what he means.
You can show Dillon how things work because there’s no way in hell a man like him is gonna look twice at a girl like you.
That’s what he really means. I guess it’s true myself, but I don’t need a life sized shit like Sawyer reminding me of the fact.
Those eyes he made at you. That ‘crease’ in the front of his pants when he left…
Was that the behavior of a man who really isn’t interested?
Who knows? But I have to admit, there’s a little part of me that’s dying to find out.
Even if he isn’t interested in me like that, it’d be nice to have a security guy who wasn’t such a jerk.
All the other staff come to think of it. All jerks, all rotten fruit from the same type of crap head tree that my boss fell from.
“Just make sure he keeps his eyes on the job and not on my girls. And for Christ’s sake, Becky. Do something with your hair, or wear some makeup for a change. We’re trying to look alive here,” he says loudly.
What he really means is maybe I should lose some weight.
I’ve heard it all suggested a ton of different ways, but I know what people mean.
I know the look.
Not Dillon’s look. He didn’t look like he minded what he saw at all.
“Is he going to be out front the whole time?” I ask, trying to sound legitimate with my question, but really needing to know if I’m getting him all to myself.
Everyone knows it, but we’re not supposed to say it out loud.
