Page 29 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

“Hey there! You’ve reached Stella Copeland.” I couldn’t conceal the excitement in my voice.

“Hello, Stella.” Ace’s baritone crackled through my cell phone’s speaker. “How are you?”

Itwashim.

“I-I-I am doing really well.” It seemed like my tongue had been stretched and tied into a knot by someone with very clumsy fingers. The words I was formulating in my head simply didn’t come out sounding the way they were supposed to.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” he asked in a deep timbre. “Or is this a bad time?”

I looked down at myself, standing—in a puddle of soapy water—in the nude. “Yeah, I mean, no, I wasn’t busy with anything important,” I said truthfully. “Your timing is actually perfect…at least comedy-wise.”

“Comedy-wise?”

I tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear and leaned against the bathroom wall. No way was I gonna tell him that I was standing here in my birthday suit, all wet and with pebbly nipples. Was it odd that I was glad I’d shaved? “Let’s just say I was hoping you’d call sooner rather than later.”

“Well,” he hummed. It was a deep throaty sound that felt like it echoed through my chest (and other places). “You don’t even know why I’ve called yet.”

“Well…can’t a girl be happy just because she’s hoping for good news?”

“Not when she’s waiting to hear back about her dream job.”

I was surprised he was being so blunt, but then again, he’d never been one for unnecessary small talk. “Who said it would be my dream job?” I challenged him.

“I could see it in your eyes while I was interviewing you. I bet you’ve already imagined your own office up here.”

Oh, my God. How did he know? “Well, it’s called manifesting. However, ‘dream job’ is a really strong term. I would love to work at Windsor Architects, but life won’t end if you’re calling to tell me you’ve hired someone else. So, no need to beat around the bush. Just—”

“You got the job.”

“That’s great news.” I wanted to jump up and down. I wanted to scream. Heck, I wanted to squeeze and hug someone until they told me to stop.Gahhhh!I totally held in my squeal of excitement.

“You start on Monday so you can catch up on as much work as possible. Mrs. Mills, she’s our office manager, will be pleased if I stop piling paperwork on her desk.”

I couldn’t remember when last I had been as happy as I was in that moment, or as excited, but I didn’t want Ace to know. It wasn’t that I was feeling spiteful—not at all—it was just that I wanted to appear professional. From what I had experienced so far, he kept his staff rather “toned down,” and I wanted to be at least as laid back as he was. All cool and professional, I said, “Monday? Yes, of course. What time should I be there?”

“By 7 a.m.,” he said. “That will give us enough time to get you settled in before the day kicks off.”

“See you on Monday?”

“See you on Monday,” he rumbled darkly and ended the call.

My body was tingling all over by the time I put the phone back down. My knees felt weak, and there was a warm, heavy sensation in the pit of my stomach that seemed to be spreading to all kinds of places. Wings on my back, I shuffled to the shower and turned it on again to rinse off. The steam in the air made the tingling sensation seem even more pressing and urgent. It was a primal feeling—one I wasn’t sure how to contain. I took a towel off one of the hooks on the bathroom wall and wrapped it around myself. The sensation of its soft surface brushing against my skin was almost too much to bear. I patted myself dry and proceeded to mop up the floor with an extra cloth by sliding around on it. Once that was done, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. My reflection became clearer and clearer as the steam dissipated.

I examined the contours of my waist and breasts, the valleys and peaks, and wondered what it would be like to have Ace touch them. The thought of it made the tingling sensation worse, but I couldn’t rein in my imagination. I visualized his lips touching my flushed skin, his kisses getting lost in the nape of my neck, and his fingers exploring the most sacred parts of me.

The squirming in the pit of my stomach was almost becoming too much to handle, and yet I allowed my mind to wander further. I imagined Ace inviting me into his office for a “meeting,” only to wrap his strong arms around me and push his body against mine.

I imagined him growling, “How badly do you want me?” in my ear as he sat me down on his desk—it was exactly as high as the countertop I was sitting on now. Bossy grump that he was, he would insist on my answer.

“So, so badly,” I said aloud.

I imagined him growling, “Such a good girl.” He would then nudge my knees apart with his strong thighs, slide my skirt up and rip my thong right off. What a bosshole! Hello? Couldn’t he just slide them off like a normal man? Anyway, I had no time to voice my complaint to him because suddenly his manly fingers started to rub my clit—yep, he went straight for the gold, impatient jerk that he was. Whoa…jackpot! Not gonna lie. The intensity he chose was phenomenally perfect. He seemed to know my body almost better than I knew myself. He rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, and if he continued this exact pace and rhythm, I would come within seconds. Hard. I felt my orgasm building and building and building—until I fell over the edge, moaning my boss’s name. “Oh…Ace.”

I quickly opened my eyes.

Trust me. I was equally shocked about the turn of events here.

My phone vibrated. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

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