Lord, she wished she’d taken the edge off with her little vibrator before coming to the meeting. She glanced at her notes and realized she’s substituted “bend over” for
“Windover”—the name of the plaza Bryce and Morgan’s company was building. She hastily scratched through it then guiltily looked up.
Morgan’s gaze narrowed on her, suspicion glinting in his green eyes.
She wrinkled her nose. Bryce’s partner, Morgan, was a flirt. He’d romanced every single woman who wasn’t dog-ugly in the building, but she’d been the lone bastion, holding out for Bryce.
However, her resistance to his charm appeared to have proven an irresistible challenge for Morgan Markham. Every day, the man sat his fine ass on the edge of her desk, trying to woo her, coaxing smiles and mock scowls, but so far not a single promise to go to dinner or the supply closet.
She had no doubt Morgan knew his way around women. He had tons of experience, and he knew how to extricate himself from sticky situations. His glib tongue could let a girl down and still make her feel like a desirable, attractive queen among women. She’d seen him do it more than once.
No, she didn’t want Morgan. Well, maybe once—and only if he was no longer Bryce’s partner—because she wouldn’t take the risk of Bryce being put off by promiscuity in his woman. Morgan wasn’t the dominant male she needed in her life. He never made her feel small and vulnerable or eager to please. He never made her wet with just the sting of his hot stare.
Despite Morgan’s best lines and flattery, she’d saved herself for Bryce, and he still didn’t have a clue, which didn’t dim her enjoyment of her crush. But she was making progress.
Even now, as she dangled one foot atop the other in the far corner of the room, removed from the discussion, she had his attention.
His gaze strayed to the glimpse of thigh the tightening of her skirt revealed with each slow swing.
She’d worn a beige skirt, nude hose and seashell pink shoes today, secretly mirroring the colors of her hair, her skin, her nipples. She’d felt sexy, nearly naked, when she'd dressed that morning, knowing she was exposing her personal, intimate colors to the man, and that he’d never know it.
The overlarge pearls nestled against her throat weren’t real, but they warmed to her skin. With a lazy finger, she lifted them and imagined Bryce tucking them one at a time into her ass while she whimpered.
Her chest rose around a deep breath and she raised her glance to find his gaze on her necklace before it darted upward to lock with hers. The moment stretched exquisitely long—a bit of subtle foreplay that enhanced her fantasy, fed her lust and her anticipation for the naughty thing she meant to do the moment she was alone.
* * *
Miss Raelie Wood wasn’t at her desk. He wished he could resist her powerful allure because it wasn’t like he didn’t have work to wrap up or that he couldn’t find a woman he didn’t have to stalk. However, Raelie filled his thoughts to distraction.
Bryce recalled how her eyes had slid shut in ecstasy while she’d massaged her breasts Tuesday morning after he’d watched her bend over his desk. He’d been unable to look away, hoping that damned little button would slip out of its hole and offer him a glimpse of her full, firm breasts.
Yesterday during lunch, he’d gone rock hard the moment her fingers had brushed his cock. He’d sat in an agony of suspense wondering if she’d done it on purpose or by accident. In the end, the answer to that question hadn’t really mattered. He still hadn’t decided whether she was the one, which meant he couldn’t make a move on her. So he’d locked his outer office door and took care of the erection in his private bathroom before he’d been able to continue working.
This afternoon, watching her play with that damned string of large white pearls while one sleek thigh scissored atop the other had been sheer torture. He’d rushed through the meeting agenda to push the men out of the office before he betrayed the uncomfortable extent of his distraction.
Raelie was becoming an obsession. Every pout of her lips, even the way she gazed up at him, wide-eyed and expectant, had driven him slowly into blue-ball hell. He was quickly realizing that the timetable he’d worked out in his mind for a careful seduction, once Kathryn returned, didn’t take into consideration his constant state of arousal or the blonde woman’s tenacity.
For the sake of his business and his sanity, he either had to fire her or step up the schedule.
“There,” Morgan said, leaning over his shoulder and pointing toward the entrance to the copier room.
She stood in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, an action made suspicious by the furtive way she looked up and down the hallway. Was she planning to steal supplies from the cabinet?
He set his cursor over the view into the room, watching her enter and quietly lock the door behind her.
“Is our little Raelie a thief?” Morgan said, laughter in his voice.
“I don’t think so,” Bryce said, his body tightening with irritation.
Morgan might be his partner in business and one of his wingmen when he cruised the clubs, but this time, Bryce felt oddly possessive toward this particular woman. She had to be his first. He wished like hell he hadn’t been tempted to mention the fact to Morgan. Now, Morgan felt it was his duty to help Bryce make a hook-up.
She walked toward the copier and slipped her feet out of the pretty pink pumps that had teased him all through the meeting with the crew. Then she reached for the hem of her skirt and lifted it on one side. Her free hand disappeared beneath it and a wispy bit of lace drifted down her long, silky legs toward the floor.
When the hell had she removed her pantyhose?
“Do you think she has a clue we have a camera in there?” Morgan murmured.
“Obviously not,” Bruce clipped, annoyed that Morgan was enjoying his tension.
Morgan had been the one to tempt him with the security cams the day Raelie occupied Kathryn’s desk. Ever since, Bryce had been obsessed, tapping keys to find her a dozen times a day, watching for a glimpse into her thoughts, looking for a hint of how to entice her to play.
However, he quickly discovered he was the one caught. Just watching the swell of her breasts as she breathed turned him on. Temptation was making him the worst sort of perv, not that Morgan seemed to have the same scruples as he leaned closer to the screen.
Raelie took a small step stool and placed it next to the copier then opened the cover and turned. Pulling up her skirt in back to expose her bottom, she sat on the glass.
“Fuck!” Morgan breathed.
Bryce wanted to give him a shove, but couldn’t tear his gaze from the screen.
Raelie’s skirt pooled around her hips, cutting off their view of her lush ass.
Holding up her skirt in front with one hand, she reached between her legs and hit the start button. Light flashed, rolling beneath her. Paper spat out the side.
She leaned over, glancing at the sheet resting on the hopper. Her nose wrinkled, and then both her hands disappeared between her legs. She wiggled a bit and bent to mash the button again.
Morgan smacked his shoulder. “Look in the queue, dumbass.”
“What?” he said, shaking his head, unwilling to look away from the young woman who smiled impishly as she took pictures of her intimate parts.
Morgan snorted. “It’s a new machine. Didn’t you pay attention to the demonstration?”
“Of course not,” Bryce said nastily, his gaze still glued to the monitor. “It’s what I have a secretary for.”
“You’ll be glad I was listening.” Morgan shoved Bryce’s chair aside and commandeered the keyboard. He opened a file, and then clicked on an icon for a document.
A picture filled the screen—Raelie’s pretty, shell-pink pussy bracketed by pale buttocks, her lovely, orchid-shaped inner lips spread to display the opening of her vagina, which was deep and dark…beckoning.
“She’s a real blonde,” Morgan murmured.
Bryce clamped his jaw closed, the rush of blood toward his cock robbing him momentarily of the ability to speak.
“Well, will you lookie there,” Morgan said, touching the screen twice, pointing to the glints of gold piercing her inner lips. Morgan turned to Bryce and waggled his eyebrows. “Think she knows we can access what’s printing?”
“Of course not,” Bryce said, scowling at his grinning friend. “She’d be mortified.”
Bryce hesitated a moment, then ground out, “Print it. Print every one of them. Then delete the entire file. But use another computer.”
While Morgan hurried out of his office, Bryce switched back to the video feed in the copier room.
Raelie hopped off the glass and smoothed her skirts down her sides. She gathered the copies from the hopper then bent over to grab her panties from the floor. She used them to wipe the copier glass and balled them up inside her fist. Taking a deep breath, she walked back to the door and unlocked it.
Morgan sped back into his office, papers clutched in one hand, which he slammed against Bryce’s chest. “Done,” he said, with a sly look. “What are you gonna do with them?”
“Morgan, have a seat there,” Bryce said, pointing toward the sofa to the side.
Morgan raised a brow. “Thought you might be worried about embarrassing her.”
Bryce snorted, anger building in his gut. “Not anymore. She played us, buddy.
When she bent for her panties, she pointed her sweet little cunt right at the camera.”
Morgan’s grin reflected delight, which annoyed the hell out of Bryce.
Bryce tightened his tie and headed out of the office to find the not-so-innocent Miss Raelie Wood and let her know there were consequences for misappropriating office property.
The wait was over.
Raelie bent to retrieve her purse from the bottom drawer of the EA’s desk and slipped inside the panties and the copies she’d made.
Bryce’s office door opened, and she straightened, knowing her face burned. She hoped he didn’t intend to stay much longer, because she needed to get into the online copier folder and delete the pictures of her pussy.
“Do you have a minute, Ms. Wood?” he said, his words sounding clipped.
“Of course, sir,” she said breathlessly, still horribly aroused. She’d wiped the copier glass with her panties, but knew she’d have to return with some Windex. She’d gushed arousal as the machine vibrated and heated beneath her bottom. She’d imagined Bryce looking at the pictures of her cunt, and she’d been transported.
His face looked so stern as she passed him upon entering his inner sanctum that she faltered for a moment, wondering if she’d been caught after all. However, Morgan sat on the dark leather couch inside. Surely, this was all about business. He wouldn’t chastise her in front of another man. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave, sir?”
Bryce’s eyes narrowed, and he stared for a long, disconcerting moment.
Raelie fought the urge to fidget. If he was the guy, he’d want her to show greater self-control. Still, she couldn’t help lifting her chin a notch and meeting his gaze.
A soft snort gusted from his otherwise implacable face. Then Bryce thrust a paper toward her.
Raelie glanced down, saw the picture of her genitals, and felt a flush of humiliation heat her cheeks and creep down her throat to the tops of her breasts. This was so not how she had imagined she’d feel in her fantasies. “I can explain…” she began, but couldn’t continue when she looked up again.
His expression didn’t betray a thing—not disgust or anger, and sadly not a hint of arousal. “Miss Wood, what were you thinking?” he said, his voice dead even.
She bit her lip, preparing a story then winced as he lifted a brow as if to say, I dare you to lie to me. But she did it anyway, although not with as much conviction as she might have wished. He was just too scary at the moment. “Um…I wanted to see my piercings?” She waited, and when he didn’t immediately respond, blurted, “I’ll pay for the toner and the paper, sir.”
Bryce’s eyes were fierce, frightening slits—completely sexy—which was not something she should be thinking right this moment. Not when she was about to be fired.
“This is misappropriation of office equipment,” he rasped softly, like Dirty Harry to a perp. “A firing offense. What do you think I should do with you?”
Raelie froze, heat draining away as the blood left her face. “Perhaps you could suspend me instead?” she asked hopefully. After all…he’d asked.
“Suspension seems a little light for this kind of infraction,” Morgan said from the sofa.
There wasn’t of hint of teasing in his hard voice. Lord, had her sin been so bad that even Morgan Markham was shocked? Shame shivered through her. She closed her eyes. It was one thing for Bryce to see the picture. But Morgan too? What had she been thinking? She bent her head. “Maybe you could…” She bit her lip. The only retribution she could think of that she deserved seemed every bit as inappropriate as her
“infraction”…and completely self-serving.
“What, Miss Wood?” Bryce insisted, stepping closer and folding his arms across his chest. “What do you think I should do?”
She didn’t back away. Each shortened breath dragged in his spicy scent and warmed the parts that had burned when the copier light hit them. Slowly, she looked up.
“Maybe you could…spank me?”
A choking sound came from the couch.
Bryce aimed a killing glare at his partner before focusing on her again. “Spank you? Does that seem an appropriate and professional punishment? It sounds like something the State Employment Board would definitely frown upon.”
She quickly shook her head, although she knew her continued insistence could get her fired for sure. If she was about to get the boot, she couldn’t blow this last chance at getting what she wanted. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears. Now or never. “I would never tell. I’ve wanted your attention for the longest time, sir.”
Bryce blinked, his expression still neutral, but she saw a hint of tension in the grinding of his jaw. Then his gaze softened, fractionally.