Page 1 of Her Boss

CHAPTER 1

Rick

The woman was at least twenty years younger than me. Which was at least ten years younger than ‘hell, no.’

Should’ve been, anyway.

Silky jet hair much too long. Tiny black skirt much too tight. Big, sparkling eyes much too blue.

Still, what the fuck did I expect? Wasn’t a club a place to meet people much too everything for them?

You’re rationalizing, asshole.

The fact was though, I didn’t have to rationalize. Not at all. If I saw something I liked, more often than not, there was nothing that was going to stop me from having it.

Not propriety. Not ethics. Not morality. Not even, as needs be, the law.

The air was so thick with a miasma of perfume, cologne, sweat, and the whiff of both weed and cigarettes, you could practically walk on it. The lights from the DJ stand, festooned with more flashing lasers than a low budget sci-fi flick, dazzled, illuminating the shimmering heat of the air as the green, cyan, and reddish beams cut through the place. The dance floor was wall-to-wall, the crush of barely dressed bodies so close, they seemed to move in unison, the thump and low, animal growl of the bassline pleasantly vibrating deep in my chest.

Where I sat, a broad, arcing line of tables around three-quarters of the floor, raised up a few feet, was more or less a mezzanine. A perch from where I nursed my single malt and ignored the almost constant buzz of my phone against the sticky tabletop.

Work was going to have to wait until tomorrow.

At least the view is good.

I’d first seen her when I’d sat down. I’d been lucky to find an open table, shocked really. I’d wasted no time making a beeline for it.

So had she—but I’d gotten there first.

She’d nearly sat in my lap, her eyes glued to her phone, the glow of the screen lighting up her strikingly pretty face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, dude.” She’d put her hand to her mouth as she looked away. Glitter clung to her first and second knuckles, more of it sparkling in her dark nail polish.

“You wanna do that, you’re gonna have to give me your name first.”

She’d laughed, blushing. “Embarrassed.”

I’d guessed she wasn’t a day over twenty-one. “Odd choice for a name.” I shrugged. “But kids these days…”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile still curved her blush-painted lips. “Have a nice night.”

Watching her walk away, her ass surprisingly round and juicy for someone so slight, was only the second best thing that had happened to me that evening.

As I observed her though, huddling with several friends, all of whom were dressed in various permutations of ‘nothing much at all, really’ I couldn’t help but notice it. Though she was all the way over at the other side of the floor, I caught her, once or twice. A tiny glance here. A touch of her hair there.

It could have meant little. Probably meant nothing. I didn’t care.

Draining the last of the scotch, my fucking phone buzzing its way diagonally across the table yet again, I breathed out at the pleasant burn of the booze, my belly warm with it.

What the hell? See what happens.

The next time I caught her glancing, I held up a finger. Her gaze didn’t move from me, a tiny vertical line creasing her smooth brow. I crooked that finger at her, beckoning.

“Over here, silly girl,” I said softly, not caring at all if she’d managed to read my lips or not.

As she sauntered over, seeming careful to avoid approaching too quickly, I couldn’t help but watch her, getting a much better look at her than I had during our initial encounter. She moved with a feline grace, befitting her petite stature. I’d have guessed she was perhaps only an inch or two beyond five feet. Though quite slender—more than I was typically drawn to—her body was rounded and lush in all the right places, her hips wider than her overall frame would suggest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, certainly not particularly unusual for a club environment, but oddly, I found it… irritating. My cock twitched at the bounce and sway of her breasts under the glittering top, the fabric some sort of faux metallic with sequins splashed across it, and at the same time I had the unaccountable urge to tell her to put those fucking tits away.

“Now, why would that be?” I murmured under my breath, truly mystified by my reaction.

I’d have to sort out what that might mean another time though, for she was standing less than three feet away, the clean, pleasing scent of her perfume, remarkably clearly detectable over the general sweaty stench of the place. She put her hands on her hips. “You’re either in need of a tune-up for your game, or that ego of yours is writing checks you can’t cash.”

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