leave.”
His shoulders dropped and he exhaled harshly. Spinning on his heel to make his way to my desk, he never met my eyes as he leaned over and flipped through the forms to the Sign Here tabs.
I placed a pen on the desk. “Please sign where the tabs are, sir.”
He hated being told to do what he was already doing, and I stifled a laugh. Snatching the pen from me, he slowly raised his chin, bringing his hazel eyes in line with my own. Our eyes locked for what seemed like minutes, neither of us looking away. For a brief moment I had an irresistible urge to lean in and suck on his pouty bottom lip and beg him to touch me.
“Don’t forward my calls,” he spat out, quickly signing the last form and tossing the pen onto my desk. “If there’s an emergency, contact Henry.”
“Bastard,” I murmured to myself as I watched him disappear.
To say my weekend sucked would be putting it mildly. I hardly ate, I hardly slept, and what little sleep I did get was interrupted by fantasies of my boss naked above me, beneath me, behind me. I almost wished for the return of classes just so I had something to distract me.
Saturday morning I awoke frustrated and crabby but managed to somehow get myself together and take care of housework and grocery shopping. Sunday morning, however, I was not so lucky. I woke with a start, panting and trembling, my body sweaty and twisted in a mass of cotton sheets. The dream I had was so intense it had actually brought me to orgasm. Mr. Ryan and I had been on the conference table again, but this time we were both completely naked. He was on his back and I straddled him, my body sliding back and forth, up and down his cock. He touched me everywhere: along the sides of my face, down my neck, across my breasts, to my hips, where he guided my movements. I fell to pieces when our eyes met.
“Shit,” I groaned as I pulled myself out of bed. This was going from bad to worse, quickly. Who would have thought working for an angry jackass would result in my getting fucked up against a cold window at work and liking it?
I started the shower, and as I waited for the water to warm, my thoughts began to drift again. I wanted to see his eyes looking up from between my legs, wanted to see his expression as he climbed on top of me, pushed into me, felt how much I wanted him. I ached to hear the sound of his voice saying my name when he came.
My heart sank in my chest. Fantasizing about him was a one-way ticket to trouble. I was on the cusp of getting my graduate degree. He was an executive. He had nothing to lose, and I stood to lose it all.
I showered and dressed quickly to meet Sara and Julia for brunch. Sara and I got to see each other every day at work, but Julia, my best friend since middle school, was tougher to nail down. She was a buyer for Gucci and dutifully filled my closet with samples and overstock. Thanks to her and her discount, I owned some of the most beautiful clothes money could buy. I still paid a pretty penny for them, but it was worth it. I made decent money at Ryan Media, and my scholarship covered all of my school costs, but even I couldn’t spend nineteen hundred dollars on a dress and not want to off myself.
I’d sometimes wondered if Elliott paid me so well because he knew I was the only one who could handle his son. Oh, if only he knew.
I decided that it would be a bad idea to talk to the girls about what was going on. I mean, Sara worked for Henry Ryan and saw Bennett around the building all the time. There was no way I could ask her to keep that kind of secret. Julia on the other hand would kick my ass. For almost a year she’d listened to me complain about what a dick he was, and she would not be happy to find out I was screwing him.
Two hours later I was sitting with my two best friends, drinking mimosas on the patio of our favorite restaurant, talking about men and clothes and work. Julia had surprised me with a dress made from the most sumptuous fabric I’d ever