Wes Wagner is the hottest CEO I’ve ever seen. He’s young and serious, perfect for the position, but he also oozes sex appeal. Tall, dark and handsome describes him to a tee. His dark hair is raked out of his face like he uses only his fingers in the morning. It makes him look stylishly rugged. His evergreen eyes are bright and mesmerizing, and I know for a fact that he’s chiseled beneath his business suit.

How do I know? He carries himself like he’s the hottest thing to grace the face of the earth. And he might just be.

I’m not suffering from a girlish crush, either. The sexual tension in the meeting was real. It was so thick I could barely breathe. When Wes looked at me, it was like he was imagining what it would be like to kiss me. Or worse.

Or better.

I can imagine what that would be like. Being pinned down by a man like that? I shiver when I think about it, heat already pooling between my legs. Am I thinking dirty thoughts about my boss?

Damn right I am.

A part of me wants him to dominate me, to take what he wants. He’s one of those alpha males. He’s at the top of the pecking order, and it seems fitting that he would get the women. Woman. Singular. If he’s going to take a woman it should be me.

Of course, I can’t do that. It’s all a fantasy. I can’t fuck the CEO. He’s my boss, and RidgeCo has all sorts of rules about that. Naturally. It’s a professional place, after all.

But even more than that, I can’t be distracted from why I’m really here, working for RidgeCo. I have a singular goal. I didn’t expect an opportunity to implement my plan to show itself so soon. Now that it has and Wes has made me a project manager, I’m one step closer. But all that could be ruined if I let this crazy attraction distract me.

No. I can’t keep thinking about him like that. I can’t imagine what it would be like for him to have me on my back and to spread my legs, to dip his head to my pussy and lick me.

I shiver again. I’m making myself horny thinking about him like this. And I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.

Don’t fuck the CEO. Don’t fuck the CEO. Don’t fuck the CEO.

It’s my mantra for the day.

Forgetting about Wes is impossible. I’m settling into my new desk, unpacking the box I brought up from reception, but my mind is full of him. It was evident in the meeting room that he was thinking the same thing as I am.

He had an erection. He didn’t stand up when I left. And he’s way too much of a gentleman to skip proper manners. No, Wes’s dick was hard. Why do men think women won’t notice it? He wasn’t exactly tucked in beneath the table.

And if the obvious hard-on in his pants wasn’t enough, the way he looked at me said it all.

He looked at me like I was dessert. Well, I’m not exactly going to stop him if he wants to eat me.

I’m doing it again! I shake off the thoughts. I can’t think of him that way. But I really, really want to. Just thinking about him makes me wet. But that’s because he’s so out of reach. I should hate the man. So why does my body respond to him so readily?

What is it they say about forbidden fruit?

If I keep thinking about him, I’m going to drive myself crazy, and without a release that’s a bad idea. I think it’s tacky to do myself in the ladies room, so I bury myself in the mountain of work I have now.

I am a freshly appointed project manager for a new project. RidgeCo is a tech company. Their latest and greatest is wearable technology that can detect changes in the brain’s electrical activity to alert the wearer of a pending seizure. Until now, the technology that RidgeCo has produced has been a luxury only. But something like this can change everything. It would make life for sufferers easier.

Not everyone was happy when I was appointed, but Wes wanted me, and that’s all that matters.

Now that I’m on the project I have a huge amount of research to do to know exactly where RidgeCo stands in their tech development processes. I have textbooks and journals to work through. I almost feel like I’m back in college, but this time I’m getting paid for it.

I got a full scholarship for my undergrad degree but to get my MBA I had to take out a student loan. My dad left my mom when I was in high school, taking his love and most of his financial support with him when he left. Since then I’ve had to fend for myself. This promotion will allow me to pay down my student debts and help my mom be comfortable again. We’ve been living with my gran since high school, and I want to end up giving my mom a place of her own again if I can. She doesn’t deserve this life, even if she wasn’t completely innocent in the downfall of their marriage. She deserves more than the life we were left with, and me taking this job will go a long way toward making things right.

The work I’m studying up on is interesting and a lot easier to understand than I thought. I’m so engrossed that when someone touches me on my shoulder, I jump.

When I spin around, Wes looks down at me.

“Sorry,” he says, but his green eyes don’t look sorry in the least. He has a square jaw, high cheekbones and one of those dimples on his chin that make him look like Adonis. His gaze bores into mine, intense and hard.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his easy tone contradicting his expression. My heart slows again, and I can think straight.

Like, think about Wes and how close he’s standing to me. I can smell his cologne. I didn’t notice it this morning, but now that he’s this close it’s intoxicating.

“I was just reading up on the project,” I say.

Wes nods and looks at my books.

“Jumping right in, I see. I knew hiring you was the right choice.” He smiles at me.

I smile back at him, and it’s not even forced. His eyes slide to my lips and then my chest, and he makes no point of hiding it. Instead, his eyes find mine again and there’s something in them now that wasn’t there a moment ago. Something hungry. Something delicious.

My heart speeds up a little and an echo of my earlier lust returns. With it, my mantra.

Don’t fuck the CEO, don’t fuck the CEO.

I’m proud of myself. If I can just keep reminding myself of all the reasons why I need to be here. Why I can’t risk losing this job.

“How is it coming along?” he asks.

I nod, looking back at the book I’m working through. “Good, so far. I think I understand the technology.”

He smiles at me again, this time with obvious intent.

“An intelligent woman is attractive.”

I fight a blush. I don’t want to seem like one of those women that can’t handle a compliment. What’s wrong with me? My cheeks burn, anyway, and Wes’s eyes twinkle.

“I want to meet with you to discuss the project,” Wes says. “I’ll be mentoring you on this one, and I think we should get a start on that.”

I nod. “Tomorrow?” I ask.

Wes shakes his head. “I have to shoot out to meet potential clients tomorrow. I’ll be out the entire day. But come to my office on Wednesday.”

I nod. “I can do that.”

“Come to my office on Wednesday. We can discuss your plans for this.”

“Alone?” I ask, and the word slips out before I can stop myself. My cheeks flame up again, and I feel like an idiot.

Wes smiles at me. He still has that twinkle in his eye, the promise of mischief.

“If that’s what you want,” he says. His voice is deep, and it tugs at something low down and delicious. I shiver again.

“I’ll be there,” I say, and my voice sounds too breathy. Wes nods and turns away from me. I watch him walk away. He has broad shoulders. His tailor-made blazer hugs his body, and he wears the suit like he’s doing it a favor. I watch his ass as he walks. I like a good ass on a man. Nothing too big but firm and round will do it for me. I don’t like those asses where the pants hang empty, and there’s nothing to hold onto.

Wes Wagner has a delectable ass. I don’t really think there’s something about him that isn’t delectable.

When he’s out of sight, I can think straight again. I press my hands to my cheeks and breathe in slowly. He knows. He knows I want him. If he wasn’t sure before, he knows now after my comment about seeing him alone. God, I’m just an idiot sometimes.

But Wes didn’t seem unhappy that I’m fawning over him.

The rest of the day is spent in a tug of war between focusing on work and fantasizing about Wes. I imagine myself in all sorts of compromising positions with him: against a wall with his one hand pinning my wrists above my head and the other hand between my legs, rubbing my clit. On a desk with my legs spread and his dick inside me. In a shower with hot water running over my body and his thick flesh sliding between my ass cheeks before he finds my entrance and pushes into me from behind.

I know that I’m playing with fire. I’m working myself up for something that might never happen. No, something that can’t happen. I can’t let my unexpected attraction to Wes change anything. Besides, there are rules – RidgeCo is a company that’s strict about relationships between employees, and I don’t doubt they’ll enforce it if someone oversteps the bounds.

Thinking about those rules almost makes me laugh. Ironic that they’re so strictly enforced now that I’m working here.

Wes might be off-limits in real life, but there are no rules about fantasizing about coworkers. And that’s what I’m doing. I’m thinking dirty thoughts about him, and I proceed to do so the rest of the day. Just because I fantasize about it doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.

When I get home that evening, I’m hot and bothered. I want a release. I want to fuck.

My phone rings and I pick it up, relieved about the distraction. It’s Paris.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I just got home from work.”

“Cool.”

Paris is my best friend. I met her at a fundraiser during college. She didn’t raise funds, she just popped in to see what was going on. That’s her attitude – glide through life to see the sights but never partake.

She’s so happy-go-lucky sometimes I envy her carefree life, but I don’t think I’d be able to live like that. She’s my age but she doesn’t have a steady job, and she doesn’t seem intent on getting one anytime soon.

But she’s a great friend, she’ll be there for me no matter what, and if someone will talk sense into me, it’s her. Ironic.

“How are things with Connor?” I ask.

Paris snorts. “Who’s Connor?”

Right. “Did you break it off with him, already?”

Paris sighs. “He’s good in bed, Ky, but he was getting all serious, and I don’t want to be serious.”

I shake my head and take a microwave meal from the freezer. Paris isn’t serious about anything.

“What about you? Any men in your new position worth looking at?”

I swallow. “My boss is hot,” I say.

“Wes?”

“Yeah. But I can’t do anything with him. Company rules, you know?” I chuckle but it’s not funny, it’s frustrating.

“It’s not just the company rules,” Paris says.

“Right. I have a job I can lose,” I point out.

Paris sighs. She knows exactly why I can’t really get involved with Wes. “Tell me about him,” she says. “Talking isn’t a crime, right? Get it out of your system.”

I chuckle. “No, it’s not.” I tell her about Wes, about what he looks like, what he sounds like when he speaks. I leave out that I’ve fantasized about him all day. I leave out I think he’ll be a damn good fuck. I leave out that I want him to take me.

There’s no need for Paris to know how dirty I can get when we both know it’s not going to happen.

When we finally say goodbye, her need for gossip is satisfied, and I’m more sexually frustrated than when I started.