Page 68 of Sexting the Boss

And if I’m going to hell, I might as well have fun on the way down.

I pick up my phone and type out a message, still watching her on the screen.

Me: Daydreaming at your desk, printsessa?

I watch her reaction in real time.

The way she blinks at her screen, lips parting slightly in surprise. The way her fingers hover over her keyboard for a second, like she’s considering her response, savoring the moment.

Then—she smiles.

It’s small at first, barely there, but it grows—spreading across her face, lighting up her dark eyes, transforming her entire expression.

And just like that—I know I’ve won.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Shouldn’t be watching her, shouldn’t be playing with her like this.

But I am.

And I’m enjoying it.

A moment later, my phone buzzes.

Sasha: Busted. How long have you been spying on me?

I smirk, still watching her as she bites her lip, her fingers drumming absently against her desk.

Me: Long enough to know you weren’t working.

She shakes her head at the screen, laughing softly to herself.

I watch her type, then pause, retyping something.

Then—her response comes through.

Sasha: I was thinking about working. That counts, right?

I chuckle, shaking my head.

Me: Thinking doesn’t pay the bills, printsessa.

Sasha: And here I thought my charm alone would be enough.

I raise a brow.

She’s flirting with me.

Knowingly or not, she’s inviting me in.

Dangerous.

For her.

For me.

But I don’t stop.

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