Vini > Books: comical-light-reads‎ (106)

I leaned forward. “A non-disclosure agreement? Aren’t these those things that mean I’m not allowed to talk about something you are going to show me? Is it a really weird mole? Because this might be a bad time to admit I have a thing for pulling out hairs. If you show me a hairy mole, I’m totally busting out the tweezers and having the time of my–”
Christian raised his palm toward me without a sound, cutting me off. I gulped and leaned back in my chair, hands on my thighs.
“If you sign this, I’ll tell you why you’re really here. If you don’t, I’ll give you a severance package and you can be on your way.”
“Oh my God. I read Fifty Shades a few years ago. I mean… Your name happens to be Christian… Are you actually some kind of perverted sex fiend?” I clamped my mouth shut when I saw the look on his face and pressed my lips together. “Sorry. Bad time for jokes

Lola jumped back suddenly, smiling while practically gasping for breath. “Sorry. I’m a little bit of a hugger. It won’t happen again. Sir.” She added that last bit after a delay. “Well, it won’t happen unless you do something really nice again. If you are nice to me, I can’t promise I won’t hug you.”
“I’ll do my best to avoid being nice,” I said flatly.

Mr. Stone stared. “Your dog escaped into a creek this morning and you had to jump in to save her?”
“After I’d already showered. Yes. So I had to shower again. Can you believe that?”
“I don’t, no. This is your first and final warning, Miss Thorn. I do not tolerate tardiness.” He took my arm in his hand and dragged me toward the elevator. I felt like a child getting scolded by her super-hot, grumpy teacher. I should’ve been mortified, but some twisted, perverted part of me hoped we’d get to the spanking part once the elevator doors closed.

I clenched my fists, biting out the words. “You owe me nothing, Lola. This was all my choice.”
She got up and grabbed the bowl of soup, carrying it to the sink and setting it down. “Then at least tell me what this is all really about. If you have feelings for me, act like an adult and just say so. I’m tired of the games.”

I shivered, melting into his touch when he put his big hand on my cheek, cupping it and drawing me closer. “Last chance to run, Butterfly.”
Oh, was he still rolling with the social butterfly nickname? “Why? Do you have handcuffs hidden in your pants or something?”

“I want to taste you so fucking bad,” he growled. His stubble tickled my inner thighs.
“Help yourself,” I whispered.
He looked up, quirking an eyebrow.
“I suck at dirty talk, okay? Just… do your thing. Please,” I added.

“We’ll come back here, and I’ll fuck you so good you won’t have any energy to feel guilty. Then–”
“Fuck me so well,” I corrected.
“No. I’m going to fuck you good. And I’ll fuck that proper grammar of yours, too.”
I scrunched up my forehead, pulling back to look at him. “If I knew good grammar was going to get me fucked by a man like you, I would’ve paid a lot more attention in school.”

I grinned when I rolled over to find Lola sleeping beside me in a pile of messy, tangled hair. Her mouth was hanging open and drool glistened at the corner. She had one leg thrown over the edge of the bed and an arm draped over her forehead. It looked like an explosion had sent her flying and she’d just landed in a heap on my bed.
I leaned in slowly to kiss her forehead. She sucked in a surprised breath through her nose, snorting and rolling over to begin an impressive string of snores

This was a Fortune 500 company, and at this moment, I was trusted with the phone. Me, the person who was terrified to call the pizza place down the street to order delivery. But my phobia would have to take a hike, because answering the phone was an unfortunate requirement of the boss’s assistant.

I wanted to scream. He couldn’t just leave me hanging like that. Surely he had something insightful to say. Such as I want to throw you over my shoulder and take you back to my condo and do unspeakable, delicious things to your body, or I think your excessive babbling and breaking into my apartment is sort of cute and am glad I hired you.
What dream world did I live in where CEOs of multi-billion dollar corporations doted on assistants? I really needed to lay off the office romances for a little bit because, much like Disney princesses, they were planting unrealistic ideas in my head, like the possibility that my boss could be smitten over me.

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked. The whole workplace fling was new to me, and I didn’t really know how it worked in terms of hook-up etiquette. Did we just get to the good stuff, or did I help out like a girlfriend would? Shove my hands in the butt pockets of his very well-fitting dress pants? Or remove his collared shirt, one button at a time? Decisions, decisions.