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“Except, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your intellectual property or your company. I’m simply doing my friend a favor by showing up on her behalf so she can stay in the good graces of Dick Em Down Donald.”
I nearly choke on the laugh escaping my throat. “I’m sorry, who?”
She shakes her head and says, “Shit, I’m sorry. The guy who places all the temps has a real thing for younger folks. The people who let him have his way tend to get placed more, or at least, that’s what the rumor mill says.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Also not proven, so don’t go making a stink about it, Mr. Daniels.”
“You-” I pause, unsure of what to say, but I don’t want to stop talking to her, and this unsettles me. There’s no way I can get anything done while I’m thinking about her toned legs and the next outrageous thing to come out of her mouth … or what I want to come in it.
She speaks before I can get a sentence together. “Anyway, like I said, I’m not interested in playing007corporate spy. I’m pulling a double degree program to get my Bachelor’s and MBA in accounting by next August. I simply don’t have the time.”
“Well, do you have time for dinner?” I ask her.
“What?” The shock in her eyes isn’t a surprise. Her expression shifts into an inquisitive one.
“I’d like to take you to dinner and um, explain how things work here so you know how to tackle your duties professionally, and maybe there’s a way I can help you.”
“Does this have anything to do with the message I sent about wanting your cock hitting the back of my throat?” she asks me with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Now, who’s the sadist?” I quip. She shrugs. I say, “I’m not going to lie. You have quite the mouth on you, and I’m very interested in other things you have to say. But, I also need you to function well in this role, so I think discussing it over dinner tonight will be in both of our best interests. I’ll keep my cock to myself.”
“What if I don’t want you to?” she asks in the sweetest voice, with her eyes struggling to peel away from the floor. I rise from my seat, turning away from her because it’s getting too hard to control my erection.
A deep breath releases the tension out of my shoulders, but my dick won’t listen. Denise is trouble, and shit… I want to be buried deep in it.
3
Denise
The look on Declan’s face as he stands from his desk, turning his erection away from me is priceless. I guess I’m not as mad at Dalia as before because Declan Daniels is into me. Lust at first awkward text message is going to be a wonderful story we tell our friends when they ask ‘How did you meet?’
I should slow down. I mean, I can’t attach myself to this fantasy no matter how hot my new boss is. My body is betraying my logic, reacting to him as if it already belongs to him.
I take a deep breath to keep my smart mouth in check as I ask him, “If we’re waiting for dinner for you to give me all the intimate details of my role here, what am I supposed to do until then?”
“You’re pursuing a double degree, how about you head down to accounting and get some real world experience?”
He’s still facing the window. Legs wide in stance but the lift, tug, and strain against the fabric of his pants tells me everything I need to know—he wants me out of this office. I want him to turn around and face me.
“What about the spy? Are you sure you want me poking around actual accounting documents?”
When a labored breath pushes through his nose, it fogs the glass and forces me to meet his gaze through the reflection. There’s a torch igniting between us, but he smothers it to a simmering heat as he turns around and says, “All of our financial records are public. I’m not worried about you seeing those. Do you want the experience or not?”
Power radiates from his body. He doesn’t feel like the kind of man you can say no to, and I don’t want to turn him down. It helps that his offer is enticing. “I’ll take it and what time would you like to meet for dinner tonight?”
The way Declan brings his wrist up reminds me of a runway model, like every item covering his body is an advertisement. Shit. Burnz & Earnz Fitness. I can see what he’s doing here, and it’s fascinating. So fascinating that I find myself struggling to focus on the very words coming from his bearded mouth.
It’s a mouth I want to feel traipsing over every inch of my body. A mouth that my nipples harden at the mere thought of them glossing over their hardened anticipation. At least, that’s what I want to believe can happen. Why is this happening to me? I can kill Dalia for getting me into this.
When his voice hits me, it takes a beat for it to register. “I’m sorry, say that again.”
His face tightens, all signs of lust falling away, and I can feel his disappointment.
Declan runs his fingers over his mouth, adjusts his tie and says, “Making me repeat myself is not a great way to make an impression.”
“It won’t happen again,” I assure him as I stop fantasizing about him.
