I blunder into the ladies washrooms and find my way into a stall, slam it shut and lean back on the glass door. Yes, glass.

It’s yet another of Milo Locksley’s mind fucks. He claims it’s opaque glass, a special kind that although you can see right through to the washbasins on the other side, from the outside you can’t see into the stall. Like a two way mirror. Except you can’t really be sure. There aren’t’ any other women working in my department so I haven’t had the chance to check it.

But what kind of freakish boss even thinks to install that in the employee bathroom?

That was just another of our many, let’s call them heated discussions, on employee gender relations. I went storming into his office, my first day, bypassing whatever secretary he had working for him that week. He never keeps a girl around more than a week and prefers to hire a male secretary when possible, which he thinks makes him some kind of forward-thinking liberal.

“What the fu – hell – is with the glass doors in the washroom?”

“I’m sorry Mr Locksley,” the secretary came running in behind me, her high heels making her teeter. I couldn’t miss the color flushing her face as she tried not to look at her hot boss. I was sure that’s why he only keeps them around a week. That’s how long it takes for him to seduce, spank and get bored of them.

He lifted his hand to let her know it was all good and examined me with a hint of amusement around the corners of his delectable mouth. I was almost gob-smacked by how lushly kissable his lips were - are. He was far more handsome in person. His hair rippling back in waves tinged with the tiniest edging of grey, like surf on a calm day. Running my fingers through that mop as he rode me went flashing through my head and I’m certain my cheeks also bloomed hotly. At least I managed to cover them up with my indignation.

Which he shrugged off with an inquiry; “And you are?”

“Aura Johanssen,” I said, holding his gaze without breaking.

“Danish,” he nodded. I was momentarily impressed because men always went for Swedish. Then I recalled he’d have seen my personal file. “Interesting first day.”

“I have every right to question sexism in the workplace, even if it makes my first day my last.”

Jesus, I’m embarrassed even now thinking about how self-righteous I was, can be. My boss was just too disarming. His perfection made me weak and jittery, which was a position I couldn’t afford to be in if I wanted to make any kind of name for myself in the all-male environment.

“It’s just a little game we play, Ms Johanssen,” he husked, his voice like sand in his throat. “Nothing out of order, I promise. I like to keep the workplace – stimulating.”

Oh christ, the way his lips curled around that word had me trembling. Although that had nothing on the way I’m shaking right now, my head tipped back on the offensive thick glass door with my breath coming in rapid pants. For one totally insane moment back there in the movie house, I thought my boss was going to kiss me.

And for one even more lunatic second, I actually wanted him to.

Every cell of my body had craned toward him, beguiling him into taking me. One kiss was all it would take to make him mine. That luscious mouth moving across my skin. His large hands filled with my flesh, squeezing until it spilled through his fingers. It’s absolutely insane how much I long to feel him touch me and press his hard body against mine until we mold together like lycra to limb.

I don’t know how he manages to circumvent my resistance to his charm and get under my skin. Another tequila shot would be good right now, just to stop my hands shivering. My legs are like two sticks of jellopop. He must be some sort of sociopath to do this to me. Don’t they say all successful business men are serial killers that chose another path? I sure feel like I barely just escaped with my life.

I splash water on my face, smooth down my skirt and try to stop thinking about doing what the rest of humanity do in the corporate bathroom on a daily basis, according to my filthy roomie.

I’m halfway back to safety when I see him standing in the wide hallway facing Tania, the Elite Bitch party planner. They’re arguing about more than the DJ that’s for sure. Milo looks up and sees me. His face visibly relaxes, the angry orders he was giving Tania are erased from his demonically handsome features.

Do not let yourself be suckered in. He’ll vacuum you up and spit you out the other end.

I smooth down my skirt again and keep walking. I can’t turn back and there’s no corner to turn before I reach them. Tania notices she’s lost Milo’s attention and follows his gaze so they’re both watching me. Her stare is a lot more hostile than his. So I avoid it, my only option for an eye rest is my boss, seeing as I flatly refuse to look at the floor like a chattel.

I head towards them with as confident a stride as I can muster. I can’t seem to stop from smoothing down my skirt over my hips and thighs, which only attracts Milo’s stare. And then Tania notices where he’s looking and if looks could kill, I’d be splayed across the parking lot right now. I wonder what they were fighting about. And why she’s holding me responsible for whatever it was.

“There you are Ms Johanssen,” Milo says when I come within arm’s reach.

And by arm’s reach I mean just that, because he grabs me by the arm and leads me down the corridor, leaving Tania standing there fuming.

“You disappeared when things were about to get interesting.”

“What were you arguing about?” I blurt out even though it’s none of my business. I’m trying to slow him up from dragging me along the passage.

“She refused to come get you out of the washroom,” he says matter-of-factly.

“How did you know I was in the washroom?” I snarl, trying to tear my arm out of his hold.

He pulls me back toward him harder and I topple against him. I reach out a hand to stop myself stumbling on my heels and make contact with his chest. Oh my god, the first time I’ve ever laid on my boss and his body is unbelievable, bristling with power in the hard muscle. Just imagine what it must be like under the jacket and shirt, the hot taut skin, flexing and -

Jesus. Stop imagining him naked. He clearly has a camera in the bathroom, the vile pig. If I wasn’t so desperate to make a mark in this job before moving on, I’d report his ass.

“Because I looked everywhere else for you,” he says quietly as he pulls me into his office and kicks the door shut behind us.

“Oh,” I whimper. His hand is burning through my sleeve, setting my skin aflame. I’ve only trotted a few hundred feet alongside him but I’m heaving for breath as though I just ran the marathon. “Why?”

He gives me another tiny yank of my arm and I collapse against his broad chest. My palms come up too late too stop myself. My breasts go crashing into his chest wall and my hands manage to grab his biceps as he mashes his lips into mine. His tongue jabs inside my mouth and circles smoothly around, entwining and tugging, claiming every last corner.

He tastes so good, I can’t help but arch my back and press into his amazing body, the ridges digging into my flesh. His hands slide from their grip on my hips, up over my ribcage to the sides of my breasts.

I moan slightly into his mouth, arching harder desperate for him to fill his grasp with my full mound then squeeze and mound until I gasp.