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“More,” I gasp. “Please! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—”
Gasping, I jerk upright in bed.
My sheets are a tangled mess around me, my skin hot and clammy with sweat. I’m a wreck, my body hovering on the verge of orgasm, panting and breathless and full of conflict.
“Holy fuck,” I breathe, pressing a shaking hand over my mouth. “That was… insane.”
I’ve had sex dreams before, but never like that. Never that clear, that real. Never about a boss—or a man I’d already watched jerk off in front of me. How many men have actually done that, though? A creep on the bus a few years back. Jason, once, but only because he was watching porn instead of sleeping beside me. Never when it was purely about me.
My nerves are alive with need, desperate for release. But I can’t do that again. I won’t.
I can’t control what my dreams are about, but I can at least control what I do when I’m awake. I already made myself come while fantasizing about having sex with my mysterious, dangerous boss once, and that was one time too many, obviously. It’s probably why my sleeping mind decided to torture me like that. I gave my subconscious plenty of fodder for a fantasy as I conjured up all those images of Lucas fucking me over his desk while I touched myself in the bathroom.
This is getting to be too much. I’m like a damn junkie, out of control.
Trembling and unsteady, I slide out of bed and shuffle across my bedroom, illuminated only by the thin gray streaks of pre-dawn as I make my way to the bathroom. A shower will help clear my mind—I hope.At the very least, it’ll get the smell of sweat and desperation off me before I have to see Lucas face to face again.
I take my time in the shower. I woke up so early that I have a lot of extra time to kill, so I might as well use it. The routine of thorough hygiene centers me, and the concentration of using a razor on my legs and armpits brings me fully awake.
As I scrub every inch of myself, the dream begins to fade. Dream touches, no matter how realistic, dissolve when compared to real sensations. Because that’s the point here, isn’t it? That wasn’t real. It would never, ever happen.
You are not going to fuck your boss, Sophia.
So he’s a bit of an exhibitionist, whatever. I’m sure there are some lines that even he won’t cross, and if he tries, my boundaries are firmly in place.Firmly.
I have a text waiting for me when I finish getting dressed. It’s Cassidy, asking how everything is going with my new job. I hesitate for a moment, chewing my lip as I try to decide just how much to tell her.
ME: It’s going well, despite the weirdness of how I actually got the job. Good people, lots of new stuff to learn. Definitely a challenge, but I think I’m up for it. How’s the car hunt coming?
CASSIDY: Ugh. Test drove the hatchback yesterday and it redlined at 32 mph. Can I keep yours for a couple more days? Sorry, I know you hate the bus. If I could get from work to a car lot before they were all closed, I totally would.
I smile at that, relieved that Cassidy took my vague answer in stride. If I told her everything that’s happened, or even part of it, she’d freak out and turn it into a whole thing. Or maybe just point out that itisa thing already, which is something I would really rather ignore. It’s not a thing. I won’t let it be a thing.
ME: Sure, no worries. Just let me know when you find something, I don’t mind taking the bus for a while longer.
It’s not like Lucas really keeps track of my comings and goings anyway. Not on paper, that is.
Putting down my phone, I turn my attention back to getting ready for work, since there’s no telling how late the bus is going to be running today.
I dry my hair and apply some light makeup, and I’m walking across my apartment with a piece of toast clenched between my teeth when something outside catches my attention.
Damn it.
My apartment building has assigned parking spaces, but it can get a little cut-throat anyway, with some visitors or residents happy to claim any empty spot they can find for themselves. It irritates the hell out of me, because I pay for that parking spot, and the last time someone stole it, they left their car sitting there for a week.
The blue sedan looks more expensive than anything else in the lot, but that doesn’t do much to soften my annoyance. What, just because you drive an expensive car you get to park wherever you want?
I open the window as the driver gets out and call down, “Hey! Excuse me!”
He looks up, and I give him a little wave.
“Yeah, hi. Would you mind moving your car? That’s my spot.”
“Miss Sophia Gallo?” he asks, a tinge of confusion to his voice.
My only response is to narrow my eyes at him. How does he know my name, and why would it matter? My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance down at it before answering, expecting another text from Cassidy. But the name that flashes on the screen isn’t hers.
LUCAS: I sent a car for you. Pack a bag, we have work to do out of town. It will take a few days.
