Page 45 of Dear Grumpy Boss

“What is it then?” Sophie demands.

Jasmine sighs. “You keep making all these elaborate plans for what you’re going to do when you graduate, Soph. That means I’ll need a new job.”

Sophie’s eyes widen, as if she didn’t consider how her actions might affect her best friend’s livelihood.

“Of course, I’ll keep you in mind, Jasmine,” I say into the awkward silence. “Pretty sure I’m going to need some help in the future.”

Jasmine nods.

“Stop offering to help people, willy-nilly, Jasmine,” Nathan says, having heard the last bit. “You’re stretched enough as it is, with things you do for Sophie and me at the house.”

When Sophie opens her mouth to correct him, Jasmine shakes her head.

“The bookstore looks great, Sasha.” He shakes his head. “I still can’t believe Zayn bought you a bookstore. Who knew my brother was a closet romantic?”

Before I can respond, the door chimes.

Jet-black hair damp, Zayn stands in the entryway. His amber eyes scan the room restlessly. “Why the hell are you all here?” His deep voice rumbles through the space, laced with irritation.

“We thought you weren’t getting in until later,” Nathan says, used to his brother’s bluster. “Jasmine suggested we should be present for the big opening, keep Sasha company.”

Zayn mutters thanks in the general direction of Jasmine. Then, his gaze locks onto mine, softening for a fraction of a second before he strides toward me with purpose, brushing past everyone else like they don’t exist.

A hundred years with this man and I won’t get used to the sensation of being the only one in his universe.

He stops in front of me, his towering frame blocking out the rest of the world. “I thought you said you’d be working on last-minute changes,” he mutters, his fingers grazing my wrist possessively. “Not throwing a damn social hour.”

I smile up at him, my pulse going haywire under his elegant fingers. God, I want to touch him so badly. “It’s not a social hour, it’s a celebration.”

His gaze flickers over my face, searching. Devouring. “Where can we have privacy?”

“Mari has a storeroom in the back,” I say, pointing to the donut shop.

Without another word, he drags me past the archway, past a grinning Mariska, and closes the door.

The storeroom is warm and sugar-dusted, the air thick with the scent of vanilla, fried dough, and melted chocolate. Tall metal shelves line the walls, stacked with bags of flour, tubs of glossy glazes, and trays of freshly baked pastries cooling under soft linen cloths. At the center of it all, a wide stainless-steel prep counter sits empty, wiped clean.

Stormy eyes dark with wicked intent, Zayn lifts me onto it. The metal is cool to my touch and I’m at the perfect height to wrap my legs around him. His mouth descends on me with a frenzied fervor while his hands are stroking and kneading every inch of me, as if he needs the physical anchor.

I clasp his cheeks, eyes filling up at the decadent sight of him. My heart barely settles into a steady beat before it races again. “I missed you, Zayn.” One lone tear runs down my cheek. “Two weeks without you is hard. Next time, will you take me with you?”

“No,” he says, nipping my lower lip. “I’m going to travel less. Can’t even fucking sleep without you wrapped around me like an octopus, Mouse.”

I smile into his kiss, my heart growing too large for my chest. “That’s probably a better idea. Especially since it might be—”

His palm covers my mouth. His hiss in my ear is delicious when I lick the center of his hand. “No talking right now. I need you, Mouse,” he says, pulling the hem of the long, floral skirt past my knees.

When his rough hands reach my center, immediately, they are gentle. Again and again, I’m awed by the contrast of Zayn’s rough need and how he readies me for it. How he makes me learn my own body’s needs better and better.

“Fuck! You have nothing beneath this, baby girl.” His forehead flops against mine while his fingers delve into myfolds. His other hand is busy undoing the buttons of my shirt. “Keeping yourself ready for me?”

“Zayn...” I whimper, as he nudges my clit from side to side as if it’s his favorite switch, with his thumb. His other fingers wreak chaos on my folds.

“Answer me, Mouse.”

I grip his wrists and pant, needing more. “Yes. I know how much you like me bare. I thought I would tease you all evening, tell you I have nothing underneath.”

“Such a filthy girl for me.”

---