Page 5 of Filthy Boss

Totally worth it.

He let the door go as I went past, almost running into my slow walk away, I tried to snap out of it, pursed my lips to say thank you and try to give him a look he would remember, and to have him close enough for another drink of him.

A shrill ring startled us both, coming from his breast pocket, his hands separated and tried to dig it up, annoyance and supreme focus chased his smile away as he clawed at the ringing from inside his breast pocket, finally dragging a phone out but his lack of grip sent it up in the air.

Normally I would throw my hands up to cowardly protect myself from something that could never hurt me.

But I didn’t do that. I reached out for it instead and surprised us both by catching it.

My mind must have been working faster than my body for once- my fingers answered the call and I placed the slim glass and aluminum, still warm from being pressed against his chest, against his even warmer cheek.

He crouched down to meet my reach, the stubble tracing my thumb and ball of my palm, feeling as coarse and steely as I imagined, his apologetic grin widened as he nuzzled against the phone in my hand.

Hot breath ignited my fingertips as he spoke gruffly, “Is this something that can wait 5 minutes? I’m in the lobby.”

My arms weren’t long enough to give him any privacy, and my body wasn’t willing to move away from him.

I had him in an awkward position and my stomach uncurled again, his hands locked on each other, not trying to fumble for the phone as he leaned into me.

“Yes sir, Mr. Dalton. Mr. Reed is-” I heard the diligent female voice answer him and hated her quickly and intensely.

“I’ll call from the security office.” He dismissed the “Yes sir," that I unreasonably disliked and released his crouch, stretching out to what must have been 6’4. It hurt me that he was weakened, but awoke something tender in me too. He wasn’t made for weakness, it was cruel like taking a fish out of water or clipping a bird’s wing.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

My hands surprised me for the second time.They opened his single-breasted suit with one hand and pushed his phone inside, careful to brush his chest but not be obvious about it.

I copped a feel.

Shameless and clumsy, but also worth it. I don’t think I had everdone it before, letting my fingers brush along his chest, feeling the firmness underneath,and the scorching heat emanating from him.

If he noticed, he didn’t show it. Not even a raised eyebrow.

I had breasts in 8th grade, so I was an expert at clumsy attempts to cop a feel. I developed a sixth sense, knowing when it was coming, knowing a thousand ways to stop it before it happened, either he didn’t, or he didn’t care.

It wasn’t just my mama bird instincts, or the appealing perfection of his male specimen.

It was boththose things, but what made my ankles wish I had worn cowboy boots was the way he looked at me.

A hungry possessiveness, a look that had moved way past ‘thank you’, and our usual polite silence. Moved to undressing me. There was a promise to his look.

Or maybe I was crazy to read all that into his beautiful face.

“Thank You Ms. Wells,” he hummed and nodded. “Why don’t you stop by my office this afternoon? I might need a hand again.” He turned to the security office and walked in as a guard in a blue blazer held the door and another dialed a number.

I flashed my ID to security and passed through the metal detector.

I watched him walking awayfrom me, disappointed we would not be sharing an elevator. But my mind immediately latched onto much pleasanter thoughts, wondering if he needed any help showering. And how much that job would pay.

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