Boss Me Good (Boss Me #1) (6 page)

Because now I’ve had a taste of the intensity inside him, the emotions below the surface, and I’m craving more.

W
hen I enter
the meeting room, everyone is in there except for Emme. My whole body is one large muscle of tension. I haven’t seen her since I left that note on her desk. Did she do it? Or did she get embarrassed and back out of it?

I knew it would push her a bit out of her comfort zone, but I also knew she could handle it. Wanted it, even. And for the last half hour, I haven’t been able to focus on jack shit, wondering if she was in the bathroom touching herself.

It was so hard not to barge in there and demand to watch. It took minutes of thinking about invoicing to get my dick soft enough to move out from behind my desk. I don’t need a raging hard-on as I stroll through the office.

Right at three, Emme slips into the conference room, her head ducked down as she makes her way to the far end of the table, a slight flush on her high cheekbones, ever-present tablet in her hand. She offers the room a tight smile, her eyes grazing right past me. “Sorry I’m late.”

My stomach sinks in disappointment, and I instantly shake that emotion off. It’s clear from her body language that she’s mortified—the awkward vibes are practically rolling off her. But is it because she did what I asked, or because she didn’t?

I have to admit, I was hoping to see her walk in here looking satisfied, with me knowing the exact reason why. Maybe I’d even be able to detect a hint of that lingering arousal as she passed by me. At the thought, my poor cock starts stirring again, and I turn my gaze to Carl for a moment to quickly dampen that reaction.

I shouldn’t have written that note. Honestly, I can’t believe I took that kind of gamble; I surprised myself when I found myself typing the words out and printing them on my personal copier. I opened myself up to a world of trouble. No, I didn’t sign it, but there’s still a possibility it could come back and bite me in the ass. I worked too fucking hard to get where I am, have put in far too many hours and blood and sweat and tears.

Not only am I risking my reputation, but I’m putting my own personal vows aside by engaging with a subordinate in this way. Something I told myself a million times, I’d never do.

Emme turns on the tablet and keeps her attention focused on it, fingers flying across the surface of a new document opened for her to take notes. I purposely don’t look at her, fighting back the roiling emotions in my chest.

“Okay,” Carl says as he shuffles through his packet of paper. His cheeks are burning red—probably from a combination of excitement and nervousness. “So. Thanks for coming, everyone. I didn’t get a chance to make copies of my documents. I was going to ask Emme before the meeting, but she wasn’t at her desk.”

My brow twitches in reaction to his words.

The delicate flush on Emme’s face crawls down her neck. But to her credit, she lifts her chin and says in a firm voice, “I had an important errand I had to do. For future reference, if you need me to make copies of something, I’ll require more than three minutes advance notice.”

I manage not to laugh approvingly at her deft handling of Carl’s arrogant condescension. But more than wanting to chuckle at her quick-witted response, I am now well aware that she did the task I assigned her.

There’s no way I can move right now, not even if the building collapses around me. The blood is colliding through my veins as her enigmatic eyes drift toward my direction. All I can think is,
She did it.
Everything I asked for—I can see it so clearly all over her face in this brief moment.

And I want to fuck her so hard right now it isn’t funny. I want to taste that sopping wet pussy and coat my face with her come.

Suddenly I’m desperate for this damn meeting to be over.

Carl drones on about the market research he’s done for large firms in the area, but I can’t focus. I should have had her sit beside me so I could smell her, maybe even reach down and stroke one of her curvy thighs. But that would have given it all away.

I can’t treat her any differently than I have before. That’s part of the game, one she’s playing with more confidence than I gave her credit for. Admiration wells in me, along with another surge of arousal.

Emme continues to surprise me.

I drag my attention back to Carl and make myself listen to him. His ideas aren’t innovative or groundbreaking, and he’s a bit of an arrogant prick, but at least he’s trying to be more proactive. I can give him credit for that.

When he finishes explaining how he’s going to reach out to the potential clients and what his strategy will be on how to convince them to leave their current designers, I give a curt nod. “Okay, first thing, you have too many on the list. I want you to focus on no more than three of these potential clients. Which ones do you feel have the best potential for us? The rest you can distribute to other members of the team for pursuit.”

A couple of people stir in excitement at the prospect.

A deep line slashes Carl’s brow. “Dane, I can talk to all of them. I don’t see why I need to limit myself here.”

I stare at him without saying a word.

He clears his throat and breaks eye contact, turning his gaze back to the papers he’s rustling on the table. No one else breaks the stretch of silence. They all know Carl needs to be reined back into place and they give the space for that to happen.

Carl’s lips pucker for a moment before he finally speaks. “Well. Okay. I guess McIntosh and Jones, Empire Resale…and… Lincoln Greeting Cards.” His tone is a bit surly; he hates doing things by my standards. Too fucking bad. Carl’s too scatterbrained to be given that much responsibility.

My gaze draws back to Emme, unbidden. She stops typing notes then looks up at me, a tiny smile on her face.

She licks her lips, that delicate tongue sliding across her plump, red lips as she turns attention back her iPad. I glance down at her fingers as they move across the device. Think about what she’s done to herself, just moments ago, thinking of me the entire time.

Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I wanted to, I could be fucking her mouth right now, and she’d gladly swallow everything.

A growl deep in my chest is aching to be released. Fuck me, I want to bend her over the table and penetrate that wet pussy so badly. I can see her nipples poking her thin shirt. She’s aroused right now and she knows that I know it.

There’s no fucking way I can quit this now, not when I have the power to make her blush, to turn her on, to awaken the sexuality buried deep down inside.

The corner of my mouth crooks, and I give her an almost imperceptible nod, letting her know I’m aware she did her task. “I think that’s about all,” I say to the employees around the table. “Go forth and get new business. We’re done here.”

Emme slides in behind a few people and filters out, her hips swaying gently with her stride. Carl takes his time gathering his shit.

I can tell he wants to say more to me, perhaps to protest again the fact that I won’t let him chase all those clients. So to appease him and get him the fuck out of here, I add, “For what it’s worth, I think you made savvy choices. They’ll be a good fit for you, and perhaps even provide additional opportunities to search out more big clients. Word of mouth is important in our business.”

That does it. A self-satisfied smirk crops up on his face, and he gives me a nod. “Yeah, my research indicated they’d be my top-tier choices, anyway. The rest are the smaller prospects, so they shouldn’t be too scary for the others to pursue.” There’s a bit of swagger in his step as he leaves.

I let the room clear out completely and stay for just a moment longer to compose myself. We’re at work, and I can’t appear to be out of control, not when others can see me. I’m the boss, the one they all look up to. I steady myself until my arousal isn’t so apparent then exit the room.

When I make it to Emme’s desk, I stop and stare down at her. I make sure my voice is cool and professional as I say, “Emme, in fifteen minutes I need to see you in my office. Please bring our client contact list with you so we can make some calls. I’ll need your assistance in reaching out to them.”

She swallows and draws a shaky breath, her hand rising to tuck her hair behind her ears. That fucking sexy blush creeps across her cheeks again, and her pupils seem to dilate right in front of me. Oh, she’s so hot and ready for me in this moment, she’d do anything I asked. A heady surge flows through me at the realization, and intense need races down my spine.

“Yes, sir,” she whispers in a breathy tone.

She seems to quite enjoy being told what to do. I file that nugget of information away for future reference.

“Make that twenty minutes.” I want to prolong the tension building in her for a few minutes longer, even if it might kill me. But I can’t resist this thing happening between us, this strange and unexpected connection.

I turn and go to my office, close the door behind me, and grab my water bottle. Drink nearly half the water down in an effort to cool myself a hair and maintain control over my arousal.

In the meantime I reply to a few emails.

My phone rings. I don’t recognize the caller ID. “Rossi Design,” I say.

“Dane,” a familiar, deep voice says. “It’s me. Eric.”

Fuck. Talk about an unexpected, unpleasant surprise. I haven’t spoken to my brother Eric in a long time, and it’s intentional.

“What do you want? I’m busy,” I say, my voice even and firm.

There’s a pause. “Um. Well, Mom wanted me to call you and invite you to dinner this weekend.”

“Not interested.” I already know Marianne will be there. His cluelessness continues to astound me.

My brother sighs. “Look, it was really hard to reach out and call you, but we need to talk. About what happened with me and Marianne. I know you’re still really upset with us—”

“I’ve put it behind me.” The pat answer flies right off my lips.

“Right.” Eric snorts, a hint of frustration threaded in the sound. “It totally seems like it, Dane. You know, I haven’t spoken to you in years now, and…well, we think it’s past time to resolve our issues once and for all. This is hurting the family, you know, every time you avoid a family event where we’re going to be. Mom is torn up, and sometimes Marianne can’t sleep at night because you’re still punishing us over the past.”

I don’t want to argue with him. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to think about him fucking my ex-wife. Even if their relationship only became physical after we split, their emotional entanglement became readily apparent in retrospect.

Looking back, it was as if my brother was angling to take something from me from the very beginning.

It’s true our marriage didn’t fall apart because of Eric—the tension had started between Marianne and I from almost day one. But knowing that Eric lusted after her, knowing that he must have used those family gatherings and vacations we all took together as chances to pursue my wife—makes me sick to my stomach.

I can’t do this. “I gotta go,” I say, about to hang up.

“Wait, wait.” He huffs a frustrated sigh. “Shit. Just…think about it, okay? Mom misses you. She says you haven’t been returning her calls lately. I offered to reach out to you because I don’t want there to keep being bad blood between us. I’m extending the olive branch, for the good of the family.”

My brother, the selfless martyr. What a laugh. “I’m not the cause of the bad blood here.” I feel myself becoming numb, growing colder inch by inch. This isn’t what I want to do at work. I hate that I’ve let Eric drag me into a conversation I don’t want to have. I’ve put his betrayal behind me and focused on moving forward with my life the best way I know how. But the past keeps trying to drag me under. “I’ll call Mom.” That’s the only concession I’m going to make to him. He isn’t going to force me or guilt me into doing anything.

He sighs again, but this time it’s world-weary. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll let you go. I know you’re probably busy.”

“Bye.” I hang up before he can say anything else.

I’m being stubborn, I know. But I simply can’t let go of what happened and forgive my brother. And I divorced Marianne so I could get away from her, not continue to see the woman existing happily with my brother, still in family pictures, still part of my world.

If I could get past the feeling that Eric betrayed my trust, I would. But the truth is that I know, deep in my soul, that he wanted her from the very beginning. And so my personal loss quickly became his gain.

I simply can’t let that go.

But I know my absence is making my mom grieve. She longs for her family to be united again, no matter the cost to my pride or feelings. I get it. She needs the stability with a desperation I can’t quite understand, given what a wretched husband my father is. Doesn’t mean I have to accept it or bend to it.

I rest my elbows on the desk and drop my head in my hands. This is so fucked up. I don’t want to think about it anymore.

A soft knock on my door jars me from my thoughts. In the aftermath of the phone call, I forgot I told Emme to come to me.

Shit. I’m so out of that mindset now. But that isn’t her fault. I can still give her pleasure, even if I’m struggling with my own personal issues.

“Come in,” I say. I school my expression to make sure my rampant negative emotions aren’t leaking through. She doesn’t need to be dragged into that shit.

She opens the door and closes it behind her, a handful of papers clutched in her fist. I hear the click of the lock behind her and give a genuine smile for the first time since I came in here. Making Emme come as hard as she can is suddenly the only thing I want to think about. It will be my mission, something I can do that takes me out of the bad memories, the betrayals, the hard feelings that have calcified around whatever’s left of my heart.

I rise from my seat and stride toward her, my eyes absorbing the sight of her hips in the black skirt, the form-fitting thin purple dress shirt. The urge to kiss her and lose myself in her is so strong I have to fight it back. But this isn’t about me—it’s about her. This innocent, sexy and spirited woman who’s occupied my thoughts far too much lately.

“Have a seat at my desk,” I say in a smooth voice.