Page 4 of Filthy Boss

Chapter 2 Milly

I was sweating through my shirt as I ran through the ice and snow. The pit stains together with the makeup I threw on in Dez's bathroom as she tried to make me promise to finish the session that afternoon, was not the impression I wanted to make.

I was sure it was smearing and making me look like a mess. The picture of me with pit stains and runny mascara made me run faster.

I ran hard to the building, thinking of that sweet hot air vent coming at me in the lobby.

I doubt the video conference will be two-way. Twenty minutes ago, I had no ideathe company even had video-conferencing.

How would I explain myself if they asked?

They won't ask, and you won't be seen.

It's their conference not yours.

I searched the phone as I ran, trying to figure out how to log in to video conferencing.

I need a shower before this thing.

What I need is 20 or 30 minutes with lavender Lou.

Blocking my warm air vents was a man thrashing at the doors, he kneed the handicap button, and cursed as it did nothing. He was trying to rip the door open, but clearly there was something wrong with his hands, they wouldn’t close, they had no grip.

“Excuse me sir, I can get it,” I offered, trying to be polite, but caring more about theair inside than this poor guy’s hands.They were great big meaty paws too, the kind that could wrap me up- if they worked.

He shot an icy glance at me, anger mixed with shame.

Air left my lungs, sucked out at the sight that met me, the man was absolutely gorgeous, no matter how many times I saw him. “Sorry Mr. Dalton, I didn’t recognize you from the back.” Even though I’ve studied your backside. “ Let me get the door.”

Deep green eyes met me as his lips curled into a slight grin. I stood mesmerized, magnetized by his eyes and the inevitability of brushing so close to him as he held the door.

But what killed me, what melted me was the hint of dimples.

I’m a sucker for dimples.

It may rise to the level of fetish- I never discussed that with Dez. But I’m curious what she would say.

I’m an expert and unapologetic snob for dimples.

I know them.

The classic symmetrical divots; the uniquely charming singletons that make a face seem lopsided, but are still adorable; the twins who don’t match- fraternal twins.

Even the butt chin, properly the ‘cleft chin’, has charm.

That might be a fetish. I’m not sure what else liking a chin that looks like a butt on someone’s face would be. But I love them.

Ty Dalton’s were classic, identical, perfectly symmetrical depressions all the way. But they hid in his scowling face, like the sun on a wet, rainy day.

He suffered my help with the door at first, but managed to hold it for me, despite the strain on his face and poor impression of a smile.

There was nothing adorable about this man, he was lust incarnate. The divots in his cheeks set off his chiseled, high cheekbones, I ached to see the wide smile they needed to show through completely. But he was obviously in pain with the door, one arm in a sling, the other holding the door seemed like it should be as well, more mashing the door than gripping it.

A tender spot uncurled in my belly, warming me up, and I filled my lungs with him as I walked by- controlling myself not to sniff him like a dog in heat, he was a heady mix of shaving cream, lavender scented soap and Male.

Perfection.

The warm air made me shiver, and I let out a soft moan that no one should have heard, but I was brushing against the chest of rubber hands, who cracked a smile at my expense.

---