Page 4 of Dear Grumpy Boss

Two

Zayn

I can’t believethe email I’m reading.

Resignation. Two weeks. Grateful for the opportunity.

The formal words mock my growing disbelief.

Sasha’s quitting,my brain screeches on loudspeaker. And then slowly, it hits the rest of my body, like a slow-motion scene in action movies.

Sasha’s quitting…Why? How dare she?

I almost stomp my foot, like the irritable, high-strung child I used to be, upset by the slightest change to his schedule.But this isn’t a small change, that man-child whispers now.

This is like being told that you’re going to lose a limb. No, a much more vital organ.

“What nonsense is this?” I bark at her, hitting delete on the email. As if that one click could right my world. That thought is another shock, but I shove it aside for the moment.

The woman staring at me through thick glasses, brown eyes full of righteous anger and something else I can’t define, is anything but the easygoing girl I’m used to.

In the landscape of dizzying shades of brown—hair, eyes, glasses, leather skirt and shoes, my gaze snags on her pinkcardigan with the stain on it. Or rather, how well the fabric clings to her curvy figure.

Then to her plump lips. The image of her licking the jelly from her lower lip is seared into my brain. How Mouse enjoys her food with such wanton sensuality has always piqued my curiosity and now…

Focus, Zayn.

“It’s my resignation,” she says, her voice steady in contrast to the ripples she’s sending through me. “I’ll work through the end of the month, which covers my two-weeks’ notice.” Her fingers play with the hem of the cardigan, and she swipes her tongue against her lower lip.

The last button has popped open with her twitching and the lush curve of her belly winks at me.

I get a peek at smooth, silky golden skin that I want to lick.Higher, pull it higher, I want to say.Let me look at those glorious tits. Let me lick—

“Zayn?”

My head jerks up and I bite down a curse. Bad enough that I’ve been thirsting after her lush little body like a randy dog for months now. Reminding myself that she’s my assistant, and my best friend’s younger sister, is the only thing that put brakes on me.

Forbidden…that’s what Sasha is.

She says my name again and I say, “What?”

“I mean, if you really need me,” she swallows nervously, “I can give you an extra week, train my replacement.”

She thinks my fractured focus is fueled only by inconvenience.

“Like hell you’re leaving,” I say, pushing to my feet.

Sasha doesn’t shrink so much as blanches. Her feet do that side step she’s always doing around me. When I was twenty-five and she was a curious, shy thirteen-year-old, it was amusing.

Now at thirty-six, it is…annoying as fuck. Although I’ve never admitted that to myself. When it comes to internal reflection, I’m not the brightest bulb on the street.

However, I do know that I have a fearsome glower, and I use it against her now, ruthlessly.

My oversized desk separates us, and I fight the caveman urge to jump over it and corner her. It’s not the most insane, or the most inappropriate, urge that has overtaken me in her presence.

But with her words of resignation ringing in my ears, the feral attraction I’ve been keeping a lid on grabs my throat in a chokehold. In parallel channels, my mind blares warnings loudly, like disclaimers before a heart-thumping, knee-shaking, stomach-heaving amusement park ride.

Danger of uncontrollable lust.

---