Page 2 of Be a Good Girl

It hits me like a thousand bolts of lightning. Every nerve ending in my body instantly comes alive, and all the air rushes out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.

I wheel on my heels and stride for my office, panicked. I barge inside and slam the door behind me, gasping for breath.

My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. My throat has gone dry, and I race for the mini-fridge, find a water, and down half the bottle.

What’s happening to me?

I’m simultaneously freaking out and smiling as I brace myself against my desk, fighting to get it together.

A tingling sensation swells beneath my legs. My thighs are hot, and I can feel my nipples go hard beneath my bra as a picture of him invades my mind.

Him. But who is he?

I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’m overwhelmed.

Things are happening beneath my skirt that have never happened before. When I’ve pleasured myself, it’s always been a planned part of my day–almost a routine. It’s never just happened organically because I was suddenly turned on by something. Only right now, I feel my hand sliding down my sensitive pelvic region, which is practically begging to be touched.

“Oh my God…” I whisper as I reach out with my middle finger to lift my skirt. But just then, the door bursts open behind me, causing me to jump like I’ve been hit by a taser.

I whirl around, and to my shock and horror, I see the courier striding into my office–package in one hand, a knowing grin on his tempting lips.

Why is he smiling? Did he see what I was doing just now?

Joan is hot on his heels, protesting his entrance. She knows no one is allowed to just walk into my office without permission when the door is closed.

“I told him not to come in, Alice! But he just came in anywa–”

“I’ve got a delivery.” He points, acting as though Joan simply does not exist, his eyes fixed on me. “I was told to give itdirectlyto you.”

He extends to me a sealed folder with what I know contain documents pertaining to our upcoming deal in Hong Kong.

“You need to leavenow!”Joan barks. The man does not budge. “That’s it, I’m calling security!”

The courier laughs, somehow challenging me. “Really? The great Alice Dupont needsmento solve a problem for her?”

My eyes narrow. I raise my hand and signal to Joan. “It’s okay, Joan. No need for security. Wait outside, please.”

She gives me a double-take but does as she’s told and goes back to her desk, closing the door behind her.

I look back at the courier, still holding out the envelope, then reach out and take it from him. As I do, I feel a rush of heat swell through my entire body and immediately turn away to hide the blush that I know has begun to form across my cheeks.

“Mission successful,” he says, the coy little smile on his lips coming through in his tone that feels somehow like his fingers stroking the back of my neck.

“What is your name?” I ask. “You know you could have left this with my assistant out there.”

I pretend like I’m gazing out through the large windows at the New York City skyline, when actually I’m looking at his reflection in the glass.

His limbs are long, his shoulders broad. He’s not bulky but clearly muscled, sinewed, and looks threateningly strong.

“My name’s Damien,” he replies. “I saw you giving me the eye out there, so I came in here personally to let you know I’ll be taking you out for a drink tonight.”

I’ve been involved with countless business deals and cutthroat businessmen and have clawed my way to the top of aviciously competitive industry. But this is the first time I’ve been speechless before.

I swallow hard before I finally find my breath.

“W-what?” I gasp, turning to face him. “I was not giving you the eye! I–I’m married, for God’s sake!”

I’m not married. I’m lying. So what? What does this courier know about my personal life?

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