Page 69 of Work: Strictly Professional

And yes, in case you’re wondering, we’re panicking now.

It’s official.

We definitely aren’t laughing. There’s no looking back and thinking how funny my crush on my boss is.

We’re losing our shit. That’s what we’re doing.

Correction. We’ve lost it.

30

Wyn

Derek is in hisoffice on a call, and I’m at my desk, mindlessly working through a folder labeledUser Manuals.

I know it’s not super likely I’ll find what I’m looking for, but a manual that breaks down how to recover from falling for your much older boss in five or six easy-to-follow steps would be nice.

A message from Derek pops up on my screen. I sit upright and feel a quick surge of excitement followed by a prickle of embarrassment. Tiny interactions with him shouldn’t affect me like this.

I click on the message, and when it doesn’t open immediately, I click on it three more times.

I hate people who do that.

Click once, and then wait.

It’s called common sense.

I used to have it, but that feels like a long time ago. Eventually, three windows pop up over each other, and despite feeling a little motion sick from all the text flickering on my screen, my heart starts to race.

Come see me in my office.

I jump to my feet and start moving at speed. Do I like it that he orders me around like this? Not really, no. But my dick loves it. Lives for it. In fact, it’s leading the way to his office right now.

I open his door and peer in, doing a quick recon to see if I’m here on business orbusiness.

Derek blinks lazily at me, eyes shadowed with nefarious intent. A smile that perfectly matches his eyes spreads slowly across his face. He flicks the switch on his desk, changing the glass to private, and raises a forefinger to his lips.

Is it me, or is that hot?

Like majorly temperature-spiking, need-to-rip-these-clothes-off-and-throw-them-on-the-floor hot? My dick says that it is. I lock the door and skip over to him, slowing my skip to an awkward tiptoe prance when I realize how eager I look.

I’m not sure it’s any better. If anything, it might be worse.

It doesn’t matter because Derek is looking at me, and when he looks at me, stars align, and everything is right with the world. Everything.

I mean, everything except for reality, but who cares about that?

I clasp my hands at my chest, fingers knitted together to stop them from shaking, and wait for my assignment.

He motions to his screen, moving the mouse to show me that while the video is off, the audio is on. The slightly tinny voice of Llewellyn Scott, from planning, drones on about the dire implications of a change to the design of the ground floor of a building they’ve recently broken ground on.

Arousal rips through me. This is insane. It’s crazy, but damn, it’s hot.

Derek taps his finger to his lips again, and I nod to show I understand.

He picks up a pen and writes$1,220on a Post-it.

I stare down at it.

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