Page 19 of Foreplay with the Boss

Vivienne pushed away from the table and then came around and stood in front of me. “Good thing you’re amazing in bed, and I’m not silly enough to think of our arrangement as anything more than mutually-beneficial fun.”

I threw a few bills on the table and pushed to my feet. As we walked toward the exit of the restaurant, I put my hand on Vivienne’s back. And felt fucking nothing. No spark of desire, no anticipation, and no soft curves. She was bony and cold, and I wanted curvy and warm.

Am I really going to do this?

“It was nice catching up,” I said, “but I’m afraid I’m going to have to skip the fun. I’ve got to go back to the office and catch up on a few things.”

Apparently, I really was. Or wasn’t, depending on how you looked at it. I swear my dick tried to make an argument, but he wasn’t even excited enough to make a compelling one.

Vivienne ran her hands down my lapels. “You could’ve just canceled dinner. Or we could’ve skipped to the after.”

I buttoned the top button of my suit coat. “Maybe next time.” I hailed a cab for her and tucked her inside.

“If you get some time this week, just stop by,” she said. “You already dined me, so I won’t be insulted.”

I wanted to tell her it wasn’t going to happen, but just in case I had a desperate time that called for a desperate measure, I didn’t completely shut it down. She and I had been doing this for the past few years, whenever one of us was unattached.

Well, when she was. I was always unattached.

Says the guy who’s going to go home to an empty house so he doesn’t feel guilty about quasi-cheating on a girlfriend he doesn’t have.

* * *

I’D NEVER SPENT MORE time at the gym than I did this past weekend. My muscles ached every time I shifted.

I told myself not to look toward the train door at Kat’s stop, but I couldn’t help it. But she didn’t get on, so she was ahead of or behind me, which meant that much longer until I could see her.

I deserved some kind of reward for surviving the weekend without giving in to the temptation to call Kat and beg her to come over. At one point, I’d even decided to promise we’d stick to our guidelines, but that I just wanted to see her face and hear her voice.

So fucking pathetic, even if it was also true. I missed her face. Her laugh. And my imagination didn’t do justice to her curves, although at least it recalled enough to get the job done when I had to take the edge off. More times than I cared to count.

While working my way up the corporate ladder, I’d made sure to lock away what few emotions I had left after seeing what happened when you let them control your decisions. Caring left you weak and vulnerable. Hope was even worse, and it was far more effective to take control of the situation and leave hope and feelings out of it.

Even I’d taken advantage of how nice my dad was back when he was still alive and doing well financially. I spent those years seeing how much I could get away with. Fast cars, motorcycles, wild parties at the house or out on the boat, and enough tattoos to have a punch card at the shop. A revolving door of girlfriends who were hot but not very bright, and a pregnancy scare that made me more vigilant about protection, even though I’d always been careful.

My dad didn’t approve of my wild lifestyle, but was too fond of the saying “boys will be boys.” It wasn’t until I was almost to leave for college and waste several years there that I pulled my head out of my ass and realized how much I’d hurt my mom.

Dad’s business crashed the next year, things got ugly fast, and Dad had a heart attack before he could pay off the debt collectors, which left my mom and me to deal with bills we didn’t even know existed. I know stress factored into his heart attack, but not even that tragedy kept people from talking about how he’d taken a successful company and drove it into the ground. There were articles.

Mom cried a lot those days, and it tore me up inside. I felt so helpless, and I decided it was time to get my shit together. What started as more of a vengeful career path to prove I could run a more successful business than everyone who bragged about how they could’ve and would’ve saved Dad’s former company—hind-sight was twenty-twenty, as they say—turned into something I enjoyed, and more, excelled at.

I’d paid off the debt Dad left us with, attacked my student loans after that, and now I used my success to provide for my mom as well as myself. She told me I spoiled her too much, but I felt like she had five years of hell and barely scraping by to make up for.

I made quick work of the walk from the train into the office and ignored a call I’d have to return later as I crossed the lobby. I stepped into the elevator and caught a whiff of familiar perfume that made my cock stir.

She’s already here.

One week. That was how long it’d been since she stormed into my life and threw everything off. One week of being obsessed with the idea of taking her in this elevator or over my desk or— The warning bing reminded me that I should get myself under control—sporting a hard-on as I walked into the office was one of those things Business Weekly would most likely advise against.

Business Weekly had obviously never met Kat.

The trail of perfume led to the break room and mixed in with the scent of coffee.

She was talking to Debra, one hip leaned against the counter as she poured coffee into a mug. Nope, those suits at Business Weekly had clearly never seen her in a fucking fuchsia skirt that hugged her ass and hips in a way that made me jealous of fabric.

“Did you want me to pour you a mug, Mr. Stone?” Debra asked.

Obviously Kat hadn’t registered my entrance, but now she straightened and turned, and fuck me she had on a black top that scooped low, with necklaces that settled on the swell of her breasts and dipped into her cleavage.

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