Page 11 of Dear Grumpy Boss

He shrugs, calling my attention to the bunched slopes of his shoulders. “I’m too distracted.”

I half snort, half scoff. “You’re the one who insisted we finish the fiscal—”

“That was before my dependable little assistant decided to quit on me. Now, it’s all-hands-on-deck for Project Mouse.”

The sound that comes out of my mouth this time is a full growl. It echoes in the empty bathroom.

It’s not enough that he’s never taken notice of me. Now that I’m quitting, he’s needling me with that ridiculous pet name and following me around like some lost puppy. Or a ferocious pit bull, actually.

Beneath the annoyance though, there’s a thread of excitement in my veins I can’t shake off.

This is the most he’s interacted with me in the past two years. God, I’m a pushover, but there’s a pep in my step as I follow him out.

What’s wrong with eking out a little pleasure from these last few hours with him?

It’s not like this is anything more than his temper tantrum, and my decision’s not changing.

Five

Zayn

My little Mouseis into me.

I have no doubt now. Sasha’s imprinting me into those filthy romance novels, and the thought lights me up as if there’s a furnace inside me.

And fuck, that body of hers, those glorious tits with their fat nipples, like milk-chocolate chips…my little assistant’s body is as delicious and ripe as the peach I caught her biting into last week.

I should fire my imagination immediately because it did a shoddy job of picturing Sasha for me.

All I want to do is lean in and bend down and pull that proud, taunting nipple into my mouth, lace and all. I’d suck so hard, alternating between both nipples, that she’d do that jiggle-squeeze with her thighs that she thought I didn’t notice. If she’s sensitive enough there, I’d make her come by just licking and lapping those fat nipples.

The slow, soft burn I’ve been ignoring for months now is a persistent, needy beat in my blood. Acres of smooth, golden skin that I could leave marks on with my fingers and teeth. That lush cleavage begging to be painted with ropes of my cum.

And that belly-button ring, I’d roll it around with my tongue before going down to the treasure below.

I want her. And she wants me. There’s nothing in the world that will stop me now.

Except…she’s leaving.Me.

She’s leaving me.

A sudden flash of lighting paints the sky, dark clouds visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls in the penthouse. The thunder that booms next couldn’t match the feral ferocity of my heart now.

Think, Zayn.

I could take a chance and make my move. I want to kiss her so badly anyway, and that could turn the tide. But I’m not playing to win the battle, but the war.

I want her to want to stay with me. I want her to realize that she belongs with me. And not just for a day or one fantasy.

“Zayn?”

A notepad and pen in hand, she sits across from me on the couch, her knees neatly tucked together. Over her shoulder, her thick braid dangles like a rope, a silly pink string tied at the end. It would come in handy, twisted around my hand while I pin her down with my hips.

“Zayn!”

“What?” I retort. Damn, but those tits make my sweatshirt look better than it ever did on me. Like an ownership tag. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Her eyes are so earnest in her round face. She’s got no idea how filthy my thoughts are. “Are you getting one of your migraines?”

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