Page 196 of Bossy Hero

The flower

Maddie

A few weeks later

Am I scheming behind Alan’s back?

Um.Wow. Why would you ask me that? How rude.

I’m merely ensuring he’s in a favorable mood before we join the kids for dinner. How on earth could you misconstrue something so altruistic as being underhanded?

Gasp. Is it no longer acceptable for a woman to do whatever it takes to make her man feel good at the end of a long workday?

So what if I have to crawl under his desk to accomplish it? Fifty-somethings can give a hummer to their sexy boyfriend under his desk. Don’t twist this into something diabolical.

Stop looking down your nose at me.

Okay.Fiiine.

Congratulations, detective. You caught me.Yes, I’m scheming and using my feminine wiles to boot.

In my defense, it’s for the greater good. He needs to be in the right frame of mind before dinner. Some stress relief before weheaddown—pun intended—can only help the situation.

And it’s only a teensy-weensy bit because of an overwhelming compulsion to have a break from this—pardon my French—motherfucking building.

The women of Redleg have taken a vote, and if we don’t get out of here, we’ll all lose our minds.

And for the record, I don’t need a reason or an excuse to suck Alan’s magnificent cock.

However...

Since I’ll be down there, I wonder if I could make him cash in hisone free sexual favorcard while I’m at it? Sort of a two-for-one thing. He’s been taunting me with it for weeks now, always threatening to push me out of my comfort zone.

Either way, you’re gonna accuse me of manipulation. So I might as well get something out of it too. Well, something besides watching this virile man go wild because of what I’m doing to his body.

“Ahem.” I artificially clear my throat, drawing his attention.

“Hungry, Maddie?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the computer monitor. “I should be done in about five minutes if you want to head down and start without me.”

Keeping my voice flat, I answer, “No thanks.”

He grunts, which I assume is some type of response.

I rise from the sofa and saunter toward his desk. “Alan.”

He briefly lifts his hand from the mouse to offer a small wave. “See you down there.”

Given his current distraction level, this might be harder than I thought. But the tight set of his jaw proves just how badly he needs stress relief.

My fingers trail along the edge of his desk as I gradually inch around the corner, approaching him. Memories of him bending me over this polished mahogany flash through my mind, making my mouth water and pulse increase.

“Alllannn,” I simper, pausing about two feet from him.

He doesn’t turn around or so much as glance over his shoulder at me. “I thought you were going downstairs.”

I skim my hand up his arm to his shoulder. “Nope. There’s something I want to do up here first.”

Reaching across his body, he places his hand over mine. However, he keeps his focus trained on his computer.

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