Page 47 of Pretty Little Thing

“Yeah.” My cheeks light up. “It was fun for me, too.”

“Was I right?”

I tilt my head. “About what?”

His eyes fall to my chest and right back up again. “The mirror.”

I feel a deep urge awaken beneath me. I shift slightly in my chair, attempting to smother it. “Uh…” I exhale a quiet chuckle. “You weren’t wrong.”

I try not to make eye contact just in case the sheer force of it lights my panties on fire but the temptation is far too great.

Fuck it.

I let my gaze slowly climb upward, trekking past his groin and abs.

“Have you considered my offer?” he asks me.

I tap my pen against a stack of post-its to distract from the deep throbbing between my thighs. I could do it right now. I could tell him to drop to his knees, crawl under my desk, and make me come right here.

“I have…” I say slowly.

He waits for an answer, tilting his head.

“And…” I bite my lip. “I’m leaning toward a… yes.”

“Leaning?” he asks.

“Leaning,” I repeat.

“Anything I can say to tip you over?”

I chuckle through the flashes of fantasy in my head. Me yanking on his hair with his head between my thighs. The swift flick of his tongue inside of me. Coming so hard on his face, I scream his name.

“Oh, I’m sure a quick gust of wind at the right time could do that just fine,” I say.

He smirks. “Is eight tonight the right time?”

“It could be.”

“Eight o’clock,” he says, taking a step back. “Wear something comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” I ask. “You mean sexy comfortable, like a little skirt? Or home comfortable, like my yoga pants with that weird stain I can’t explain?”

He laughs. “Just say you’ll be there by eight.”

“Eight.” I nod. “I can do eight.”

“All right, then.” He reaches the door and pauses, turning back. “The first option, by the way.”

I wink. “Yeah, I figured. Oh, Clive—”

He stops again and I brace myself before he says my name that way again.

“Yes, Ms. Payne?” he asks, tingling my bones.

“Could you… close the door behind you, please?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a slight growl only I can hear.

The door latches and I let myself crumble to pieces.

“Oh, I’m a bad boss.” I fall forward, pounding my head on the desk repeatedly. “A very, very bad boss.”

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