The sound of him running away sends the word 'Coward' to my mind. I spot my phone and crawl quickly over to it. It's stopped under one of the heavy leather chairs in the seating area.
Boss Dick's first words to me are, “You’re not a man. Get out!”
To which I mutter under my breath, kneeling on all fours like a dog, barking his kitty up a lawsuit tree. “Make me!”
"What did you say?"
As I splay on the floor and stretch to reach under for my phone, I explain, "I'm not racing the coward back to the elevator and kissing my dream job goodbye just because I’m not a man." My fingers touch the case, and I pull it out, "I'm more than qualified to perform personal assistant duties. I won't quit, and you can't fire me for being a woman. The ad said, 'Apply ONLY if you're tough-as-nails with THICK skin. Well, Mr. Boss Dick, I am. And I'm not afraid of the size of your package or your ego."
I apologize as I turn it off. "There. Sorry about that."
He has walked around the desk and is standing by the chair. My first impression, as I push up into a kneeling position, of my new grumpy boss is his shiny Gucci Jordaan Crocodile brown loafers. Price tag, $3,900. I only know this because of the window shopping I did this week while job hunting.
His low growl admits he's stuck with me, at least for the time being. I reach my hand out to him, silently asking for assistance to rise as my eyes travel up and appreciate the long, straight, powerfully muscled thighs in his expensive tight suit pants. He takes my hand as he trumps me by saying, “Then grab a condom for your heart, honey. I’m going to fuck your feelings.”
My hand tingles. My heart comes to a complete stop. I have no breath. No pulse. Nothing but total shock. That voice…! My eyes hone in on the boner growing in his groin, pushing against his pants leg as he pulls me to my feet. "Bastian?" I manage to force out of my immobile chest cavity as my eyes skim over his white shirt, navy blue suit coat with a matching silk tie and fly to his perfect face.
Yep. It's him. And he is even more mouthwateringly beautiful in the daylight.
His expression is a reflection of mine, and for a moment, time stands still as we process what this means. He drops my hand as if I've got some deadly disease, putting his hands in his pockets. Defensively, I note. His tone drips with incongruity. "Looking for a rock to hide under, little Miss Dixie Doodle?"
Yep. You know it happened. My feminism quells my attraction and rears her defiant head. I'm insulted. Totally confident that I can handle any boss dick, even if he's truly got a beautifully monumental one that made me sing 'hallelujah.' I shove my tingling hand out for him to shake. "Sam. Short for Samaera."
I smirk, cock my eyebrow, and wiggle my fingers. I bite back the words on the tip of my tongue, 'Are you afraid to touch me?'
He looks at my hand. His wheels are turning.
In a nanosecond, my mood shifts back, and I wisely let my unspoken challenge die there. I know full well he isn't, and if he decides to take me in his arms, he'll override my feminism in an instant. I'll lose my job.
After a pregnant pause, he takes his hands out of his pockets. Takes my extended hand, closes the gap between us, ensuring his aura dominates me, and says softly, "Samaera, my employees call me Sebastian."
The fucking sparks between us explode.
I snatch my hand away. Burnt by his masculinity. "My employers call me Sam, Sebastian."
I turn on my heel and head out the door. "I'll be upfront acquainting myself with your calendar. I'm sure Mr. Coward left me a list."
He chuckles, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. The electricity between us is thick and palatable. I pause in the doorway and slowly turn around to find him leaning against his desk with his ankles crossed like in the manager's office at T. & A. Tavern. His smug expression understands he makes me mad and horny at the same time, and he's going to enjoy the hell out of my dilemma.
I reach for the door handle and pull it shut as I inform him, "For the record, my feelings will be the only thing you'll be fucking."
Feminism to my rescue.
9
Sebastian
My laughter fills my office.I push my ass up onto my desktop and swing my legs. So… Dixie Doodle, aka Samaera, is my personal assistant. How about that for an unexpected turn of events?
I run my fingers through my hair.
It's going to be hard as hell to keep my dick in my pants. He was already turning into a heat-seeking missile when she looked up at me on her knees. Jesus H. Christ. How the fuck did this happen?
I jump off and pace.
I don't want her to as my P. A. I want to fuck her every goddamn day. If she had only come back to the bar… But she didn't. And out of respect for her privacy, I didn't stalk her. Motherfucker. I should have. Then this wouldn't be such a fuck up. Well, it would be a fuck up on my desk. After, we'd have had a good laugh over the odds.
My hand pushes my fingers through my hair again. I'm certain she will do a great job as put together as she is. But the problem is I'll be fighting the urge to do a good job on her.
