Page 61 of Her Boss

Classical paintings decorated the walls, some of them absolutely stunning in their beauty. The room was decorated in a warm, dark wood motif, the scent of books bolstered by the giant shelves dominating one entire wall. It had to be hundreds of books, and I was intensely curious about what sorts of tomes I might discover in his personal library. But it was apparently something that would have to wait.

For he seemed intent on something quite different from reading.

Settling into one of two richly upholstered chairs facing each other near an unlit fireplace, he propped an elbow on one of the overstuffed arms, its color a pale rust. “Sit down.”

I settled into my own chair opposite him, silence descending upon us once more. I wanted to touch him, to be close to him.

But something told me it wasn’t the time.

“So…”

Rick’s mouth quirked, but his expression was as neutral, as impassive as a slab of granite.

My cheeks flushed hot. I didn’t know what to say, as for the first time, things seemed actually… awkward.

You’re making it awkward. Because you’re thinking too fucking much!

Rick shifted in his chair. “You’re uncomfortable waiting for me like this, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” It was honest. I just wished I knew why.

“We’re going to have to work on that. That’s not going to work for me.”

Great. Just fucking great.

I’d already screwed up. “I-I’m sorry, I?—”

“Be quiet—and listen.”

Unable to resist looking away, I lamented the fresh explosion of heat on my cheeks. His gaze coursing over me was almost a physical weight, possessive, dangerous.

I loved it and feared it in equal measure.

“What I should do is have you kneel naked before me while I go over the rules for you when it comes to being in my house. Under my roof,” he said slowly. “But there isn’t time for that right now. Instead, I think I’ll just have you get naked. Now.”

Oh, shit.

It wasn’t as if being naked in front of the man was the issue. Not at all. But it was the sense of being called out, at being in the spotlight that had my stomach sinking.

Despite that, my nipples were already hard, a hot, maddening tightening of my sex signaling that my body was already completely onboard for whatever the cruel man had planned for me next.

Mortified and deeply aroused, I was frozen in place. Rick stood up from his chair, paused to look down on me with a cool narrowing of his eyes.

Before I could say or do anything, he’d walked away without another word, the door to the study closing—and locking—behind him.

I leaned forward, scrubbing my face with both hands. “Holy shit. What the fuck is happening here?”

I was afraid, yes. But I was incredibly aroused, too. My panties were so helplessly soaked, I was afraid I’d leave a goddamned wet spot on the man’s upholstery.

Thankfully, the door opened a minute later, mercifully sparing me from my frenetic mind spinning off into a thousand million what-ifs about what might happen next.

Then I saw it, my stomach dropping.

Clenched in his fist was a small length of leather, which he shook out to reveal what was clearly a strap or belt. “I said strip, slut. And don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered, unable to comprehend the shocking turn the encounter had taken.

“You heard me,” he said coolly, his voice carrying just the hint of an edge. “Every stitch is to be off. You have one minute.”

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