Page 12 of Rolling with My Bosses

Lexi’s hands are pulled up in front of her. “I’m sorry, I won’t be late again.”

A sense of embarrassment washes over her face when she sees me.

According to my watch, she couldn’t have been more than a couple minutes late. I appreciate promptness but even I know to chill over a fucking minute. I say, “She was ready to come down for the packages, but I caused a delay. Yell at me if you’re going to flip out over a minute.”

I detect a glimmer of excitement in her expression before she steels herself.

Stepping between them, shielding her, I square up with him and he doesn’t back down. “If Opus would hold a tighter schedule, they might be able to retain workers. This mail room turns people over faster here than anywhere else.”

“Don’t ever talk to her like that again. Now help me get these unloaded then fuck off.” I motion for Lexi to let me handle the packages, but she insists on helping. With both of us unloading, we probably made up for the damn minute.

Rolling the large bins into the building, creating distance between Baby Girl and the man who flared up my primal need to come to her defense, I wish there was a way to ensure she never had frustrations.

Her expression is pinched, forcing me to realize my heroics might not be welcome. Fuck.

It’s not so terrible to want to help someone. What am I going to do, helicopter parent her as she climbs the corporate ladder. She’ll never escape frustration. She’ll probably end up getting into a power position where she’ll work long, obsessive hours like everyone else. She’ll give up roller derby and every other thing that she loves.

That was a quick downward spiral. I can’t let that happen.

She pushes the UP button at the freight elevator. When we’re inside, alone, she says, “Thank you for what you did out there, but I can fight my own battles. It’s the only way I’ll work my way up, so no more babying me.”

Oh, Baby Girl, I want to baby you in so many ways.I keep the comment to myself. I do say, “The guy was a prick. I would’ve stepped in for anyone.”

I’m conscious of the cameras in the elevator and don’t want to give any security guy reason to file a report, so I keep my hands to myself. The willpower it takes to make that happen solidifies what’s happening. I’ve fallen for her. I can’t imagine a life without her. I’m going for it.

Her breaths are heavy and I can smell her arousal. “Besides, I think you liked it.”

The freight elevator stops at each floor, but with us and two bins, there’s no room for anyone else. It’s a slow climb.

“Stop.” Her tone is conflicted. “It’s important that I’m respected for myself.”

“I respect you, but I caught that smile when I protected you. Don’t deny that it got you wet.”

“Smiling doesn’t mean I’m sexually aroused.”

“No, but I can smell you, Baby Girl. And I know you don’t have any panties on.” I pull the wad of silky fabric from my pants pocket, bring it to my nose, and inhale. “You seem to get wet a lot around me.”

“I am officially mortified.”

“Owning that you’re mortified…that’s a power move. Not denying that you get wet around me…priceless. I’d fucking wear you like cologne if I wasn’t worried it’d make every guy around me horny. What do you say we spend the afternoon shopping for new panties for you because I don’t intend to give this pair back.”

She extends a hand but I return the fabric to my pocket. She tries to grab them and I catch her wrist, wrapping my fingers around her delicate frame. Thoughts of pinning her against the wall, lifting her, even just inching her skirt up and sliding my hand between her legs awaken a side of me that’s been dormant.

Remembering the cameras, I limit the rest of my actions to pinning her with my gaze and saying, “They’re mine now…” I catch myself and clear my throat instead of scaring her off by saying, “You’re mine.”

“We can’t just leave.” She pulls away slowly.

“We can clock out.”

“On my third day at Opus?” She raises an eyebrow, which is a fucking miracle compared to saying no.

I wait for the doors to open and close again, then offer, “We can say a bug ran through the mail room.”

“What was it? The love bug?” She stifles her laughter and waves her hands frantically. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re not too far from the truth. Come home with us. We’re men of our word and said we would help you get rid of your V-card.”

“Before any of us knew about our fraternization complication.” She wants to do this. If I can just get her to admit it before our elevator cocoon thrusts us back to work.

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