Page 13 of Daddy's Dirty Little Secret

I didn’t respond. Just turned the monitor slightly toward her as I sank back into my chair.

She circled around behind me without asking—she never asked—and leaned over my shoulder to get a better look at the dashboard. The scent of her hit me like a punch: warm vanilla and citrus and something uniquely her. Her hair brushed my temple as she pointed at a section of the heatmap.

“We’re getting the most traction on the side-scroll version of the landing page,” she said, sniffing softly. “That weird decision we made to test vertical versus horizontal layouts? It worked. Horizontal won, hands down. Sixty percent increase in engagement from mobile users alone.”

I barely heard her. I mean, I heard her. The words were there. But her body was close—too close. Her arm was braced on the desk beside mine, her breath warm against my cheek. And the way she leaned, bent slightly at the waist, chest pressing softly against my shoulder…

It was like gravity stopped working properly. All my focus tunneled.

I turned my head slightly, glancing up at her, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.

“You do realize you look incredibly sexy right now.”

Her head snapped toward me, brows lifted, surprised—but not offended. Not exactly. Her gaze flicked around my face, but she didn’t pull away.

“I’m going over engagement metrics,” she said, her voice dry, amused. “Not pole dancing on your desk.”

“You’re the one who leaned in like that.” And my Lord did I want her to lean closer. Her tits brushing over my shoulder was horribly distracting when I was so stressed out. I should’ve been thrilled with the marketing success, but not landing clients ate at me. She was the remedy I wanted.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, standing, tugging the edge of her cardigan closed over her top—not that it helped. Those perfect fleshy globes were imprinted on my thoughts. “I’ll make sure to dress more professionally next time.”

I looked up at her and let the silence stretch for a beat, then said, evenly, “That’s not what I meant.”

She blinked. “No?”

“No,” I said, my voice low. “I’d rather see you in less.”

There was a pause—one second, maybe two—where I saw her cheeks darken, saw her throat work as she swallowed. She didn’t move away. Just held my gaze like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or slap me. Or both.

And I had no idea which reaction would wreck me more.

“You mentioned you’d thought about doing it again…What we did in my car.” I stole a glance at the door, shut but not locked, and then I turned my swiveling computer chair to face her.

“I did,” she said, her finger curling around the pendant dangling by the thin chain around her neck.

“What would you say to an arrangement?” I paused for emphasis before continuing. “No strings attached, no love, no relationship—just hot sex when either of us wants it.” I’d been mulling it over, and I hadn’t specifically planned to ask her, but the way she made me feel every time she walked into my office, I knew it would come up.

“Sir, I?—”

A hand covered her lips, her eyebrows high. I had her right where I wanted her, shocked and caught off guard, and it made my dick harden as I thought of bending her over my desk right now. What I wouldn’t do…

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