A Very Personal Assistant Read Online Free PDF

shaking. Not with rage
but with a sweet trembling at the proximity of Patrick.
    “But you aced the meeting all the same?” It wasn’t really a
question.
    “Yeah, how did you know?”
    You know me so well, don’t you? You can
see right through the tantrums to the heart of what happened.
    The revelation was alarming, yet wonderful. As was the way his
beautiful cologne was tantalizing her, making her feel dizzy with lust and a
whole lot more.
    “Lucky guess,” he replied with a puckish smile. “Look, let me
tidy up here. Won’t take a second. Get your things and I’ll meet you in the car
park in ten minutes, eh?” For a moment, he looked slightly unsure of himself, in
a way she rarely saw, and twist of strange yearning made her shudder. “That is,
if you still want to?”
    “What do you think?” she answered, wanting to reach down and
ruffle his gilded hair as he sank into a crouch and began to field errant
papers. Either that, or sigh at the way the action tightened his dark trousers
around his haunches and his arse, revealing their strong, muscular shape.
Instead, she darted away, snatched up her bag, then hurried past him while he
was still scooping up documents.
    “See you in ten…maybe fifteen, but no longer, eh?” Not looking
back, she headed for the car park, via the cloakroom.
    * * *
    Fifteen minutes later and he was walking toward her,
jingling his keys, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and the sleeves of
his blue Sea Island cotton shirt rolled up. She liked the look of his smooth
forearms. They were powerful, and had a capable quality. Patrick was wonderful
with his arms and hands. Well, every part of himself really. She knew his body
was fabulous, even though she had yet to see him absolutely and completely
naked. Their couplings had so far had all been partially clothed affairs, even
though not always hurried.
    Without speaking, he let her into passenger seat, holding open
the door for her, then strode around to his side, sliding in and slinging his
jacket on the backseat. He gave her a placid, reassuring smile that seemed to
negate even the need for words, and still in silence, they set off, heading for
their secret world of sex.
    About half way to the chalet, Patrick spoke up though. Miranda
was half expecting him to ask her to remove her knickers, which he sometimes—but
not always—requested, but instead, he said, “They’re hard on you, these division
level meetings, aren’t they?” He glanced at her quickly, out of the corner of
his eye, his expression compassionate. “I can tell, even when I haven’t been to
one.”
    It was as if he’d released a pressure valve. It felt like a
huge relief as she smiled back at him and said, “Hell, yes! I do enjoy them in a
way…and I pretty much always get what I want out of them. But it’s difficult,
even in the twenty-first century, to dominate a gathering of men that way.
Division heads, partners…execs. They take some bloody mastering, I can tell
you.” She took a long breath, sinking into the Citroën’s squashy, comfy seat.
“But it really takes it out of me, angling for control all the time…you
know?”
    “Yes…I know.”
    Three words, but they seemed to hum with a deep, almost psychic
wisdom.
    “I know you do…and that’s why I like our…um…” What to call
them? “Our little get-togethers. I like them because I don’t have to be in
charge. I can just…just…”
    “Submit?”
    “Yes…with you, I don’t have to decide things or control things
or take responsibility. I can just be .”
    It was easy to say it. But complex, scary and wonderful to feel
it. She had a sense that in admitting to that particular word— submit —she’d stepped through yet another veil, moved
onto another level, and her pussy tensed suddenly at the thought of it.
    The last time they’d been together, Patrick had landed a single
teasing slap on her bottom when they’d been fooling around together, tussling on
the small settee in the