Easton
She looks like she just bit off more than she can chew. But after her little speech, I feel compelled to show her more behind the scenes. Her eyes are wide, taking everything in. She listens and watches meticulously, soaking up every word.
It’s hard to focus with her beside me. I’m doing my damnedest to not pay attention to the smooth skin between her tits, but every time she bends, her blouse wavers giving me a peek of her cleavage. Her plum-colored skirt sucks against her lithe hips and flares off her legs, and every time she leans, my eyes divert to her ass.
She’s stunning. Absolutely stunning.
She’s the kind of beauty that’s understated.
Her hazel eyes pierce you and display confidence, regardless of all the shyness surrounding them. She’s sure of where she wants to go, positive she’ll make a better future for herself. Those traits alone make her astounding.
I’ve tried not to look at her—I can’t.
I’ve tried putting distance between us—I’m failing.
I’ve tried not to think of her—it’s impossible.
Her beauty, her brains, her eagerness…Zoey’s sharp but I don’t think she realizes her beauty…or the fact she has a mouth with pouty lips I’d like to taste.
Since her first day, I’ve spent too many hours thinking of her. In the shower, my dick stands to the image of seeing her bare body glistening with sweat from a fuck I know she’ll never forget.
When I saw her leave the club with that douchebag, murder ran through my blood. The amount of possessiveness she provoked surprised the hell out of me. It took every ounce of restraint not to jerk her out of that bastard’s hands and into mine. Instantly, I lost interest in fucking Sandi. I went home alone and did something I haven’t done in a long while—I jacked off with Zoey as the star of my fantasy. Wrong on so many levels, but I’m a horny man with a gorgeous and smart woman working for me.
A strand of her silky blonde hair slips off her shoulder and falls to the side of her face. I clench my fist to keep from reaching out and moving it back in place.
I shift, moving my body closer to hers, and I point. “Is this us?”
She leans down to inspect the drawing. Her skirt stretches against the curve of her ass and I wonder what it’s like to smack it and then kiss the sting away. I shake my head, taking a breath as she stands back up.
“No,” she says.
I stretch across her, my arm brushing against hers, and bend bringing my face closer to those perky tits and grab some papers that mean absolutely fucking nothing. “These…” my voice comes out thicker than I intended. “It’s all new. All the floors will be the same, which means the prints replicate the first floor, except the penthouse. It’ll have different security measures.”
I tilt my head toward her hair and draw a breath. It smells of coconut, but not so overwhelming that it smells like suntan lotion. It’s light, like a crisp morning on a tropical island.
She has a pull on me. An innocent soul. A beautiful body. I know better than mixing business with pleasure, but dammit, I’d like to hear her moan for hours.
My dick begins to ache and, knowing my limitations, I step away to grab an extra plate and silverware from the closet.
I grin like a happy bastard when I open the Styrofoam plate. A mouthwatering steak, a side of mashed potatoes and a vegetable melody instantly has my stomach begging for it. I cut her a fair slice, drop some potatoes on the plate and give her half of the veggies and all the carrots. I despise those disgusting wastes of food.
“I’ve kept you here late, so I cooked.” I place the food in front of her and chuckle.
Her smile is beautiful. “I’ll grab something on the way home. It’s no problem,” she rattles off.
“Eat,” I order lightly. “I didn’t slave over the grill for nothing.”
She puffs a giggle but takes the plate.
Distance…I need it. I make a spot on the opposite end of the table.
“I’d say you’re a woman after my heart. The food has been on point today.” I need to get a grip on the verbal distance.
She lifts a shoulder, her lips twisting bashfully. “I didn’t know what you like to eat. Figured every man likes steak, right?”
“You did well,” I say.
Contentment braids with the silence as we eat.
I glance up to her. “Your first day of work…well, the first time I saw you, you wore a blue blouse and you had your hair up.”
Hazel eyes flick up to me with eyebrows raised.
I grin. Verbal distance, my ass. “I pay attention to my company and all its employees. I may not always be able to put a thumb on the name or a name to a face, but I do see things, Zoey. You’re not as invisible as you think.”
She rubs her lips together in thought, but instead of voicing it, she looks back down to her food.
“Nothing to say to that?” I ask, challenging her courage.
“No,” she says.
“Surprising.”
She sets her fork down with a clank. “You make me nervous,” she admits.
“Why?” It’s a simple question.
She zeros in on me. It’s both frightening and erotic. “You’re Easton Langley. Not only are you my boss, but you know your reputation. And it just so happens, I work extremely close with you. There are times I feel your playeristic ways bleed into our professional relationship.”
Boss card, professional card, and the player card all thrown in one breath. Irritation rakes its nails down the chalkboard. “For a timorous woman, you’re not afraid to say exactly what’s on your mind,” I dispute.
“Most times I’m not,” she replies.
I lean back in the chair. “If I were to ask you what your true opinion of me was, would you answer it?”
She holds my stare. “You’re a strong business man. You know your worth and demand your respect.”
Such a safe answer. “What about outside of work?” I test her.
“I don’t know you outside of work,” she says straightforwardly.
I arch a brow, disagreeing. “Except from what you’ve heard from the news. You’ve stated multiple times you know my reputation. Too bad it gets tarnished over the cross-fucks of the tabloids and newspaper clippings.”
“It was all over the news about your breakup with Penelope Elliots,” she says and her eyes widen, surprised at her own bluntness.
I laugh, dropping my head back. “As you’ve said, my reputation enters first. She’s the princess to her daddy’s multi-million-dollar hotel strand. Of course, I’m the bad guy when we split. They didn’t share that we’d been split for months and it was an amiable breakup. No.” I shake my head. “They only brought light to the ugly when I’m spotted out afterward.”
“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “It’s none of my business.”
When she stands to leave, I’m on my feet striding to her before I know what the hell I’m doing. I stop before my urges defeat my battles and grab her plate. My gaze locks on hers. “Don’t judge my worth by my reputation. I live a full life, Zoey. Don’t form an opinion based off the papers.”
She’s frozen. I set her plate on my desk, but keep my stare on her, fighting every compulsion to kiss her. Instead, I shove my hands into my pockets. “You’re not invisible,” I say, thickly.
She grabs her purse like it’s the only thing bringing her breath. “Thank you for dinner. I need to get going.”
As she rushes out the door, I drop my head.
Dammit. I need to take a break and get my shit together. Her tough and hardened shell only adds fuel to my thrill. I can’t keep testing limits…