Foreplay with the Boss: Billionaires of Boston

7. Jameson

Kat was going to be the death of me. I was having trouble separating her from our first interaction on the train. In a way, she did seem like two people. Kat and Katrina. And while my first impression of her was that she was timid, under the surface was a hellcat just waiting to be unleashed.

I really wanted to unleash her, claws and all.

I looked out my office window, to where I could see her at her desk, furiously typing away.

I could still hear her voice in my head. Anything else, Mr.

Stone?

I shouldn’t get so turned on when she called me Mr. Stone, but I did. I shouldn’t get turned on by her at all, but her amazing ass and her fucking tight skirts made a wicked combo. Most of the women I slept with were on the thinner side. Occasionally they had nice breasts— which they’d sometimes bought—or a nice ass, but the fact that Kat had both made me unsure which one I’d worship first when I peeled off her clothes.

Not that I’d be doing that, ever.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. Fuck.

Now I was supposed to get back to work and concentrate when all I wanted to do was go home and fantasize about stripping Kat naked and pulling her into the shower with me. Then I could close my eyes and imagine the rest, even if it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as locking my office door and bending her over my desk.

Or taking her against the wall.

Every surface of my office suddenly became fodder for fantasies involving Kat.

She was smart, too, and I wanted my dick in her smart, wet mouth.

Then I’d work on getting her to make other noises, all pleasure, none of the annoyance that laced our confrontation.

Okay,thisisn’thelping. I opened up my email and started working my way through the urgent ones. I managed, but for the entirety of the afternoon, I had to force myself to focus on work, something that usually occupied my every waking thought.

* * *

I HAD A PLAN. A way to keep visions of naked Kat from dancing through my head. It involved reciting stats and a bunch of boring, mind-numbing shit. But it didn’t matter. Once I stepped into my office Thursday morning to find her bent over the bottom filing cabinet drawer of my desk, ass in the air, breasts nearly spilling out of her top, my plan meant jack shit. The only thing that would be strong enough to stifle the naughty images right now was if I was into dudes.

My cock twitched, way too eager after being neglected for too long, making it clear I was not. And that was after last night’s shower session that I’d finally gotten to indulge in. After diverting my gaze and plugging some numbers into a couple of different compound interest formulas, I was under control enough to clear my throat and let my presence be known.

Kat straightened, a stack of files in her hands. Since this was the fourth day in a row that her hair was full and mussed, I concluded that it just always looked like someone had recently wrecked her.

Before I lost track of what I wanted to say or managed to piss her off with just my presence, I said, “I thought about it, and you’re right about what you said yesterday.”

The surprise in her widened eyes almost made me laugh. “But you’re also wrong.”

She sighed, her whole body getting in on it. “This is already going great,” she muttered.

She was frustrating and sexy as hell and already working her way under my skin. “I don’t understand. On the train, you wouldn’t tell those guys to move out of your way, and in the conference room with everyone else, it was soft-spoken maybes and lots of backtracking. But you have no trouble speaking your mind and using that boldness that you claim you don’t have with your employees on me.”

“Honestly, I don’t understand, either. My filter doesn’t work very well with you, and something about you—especially when you goad me—makes me say exactly what I’m thinking instead of backpedaling and acquiescing.”

“I don’t know whether to feel special or sorry for myself.”

The corner of her mouth kicked up as she lost the battle to hold back a smile. “You’re very special. I’m sure your mommy thinks so, anyway.”

I shook my head and crossed the office to where she stood.

She moved out from behind my desk, wielding the stack of files in her hand like a shield. Like it wouldn’t be easy for me to bat them out of her hands and close the space between us in one large stride. “Debra let me into your office, by the way. I just wanted to pull some files so I could see what your last few ad campaigns for the company looked like before approving the changes on the new ad, and so I could get the big picture on the other account I’m tweaking, like we discussed in the meeting.”

“That’s fine. I’m interested to see how this new direction works.” I flashed her a big smile. “See how encouraging I am?”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips were still quirked up at the corners.

“I didn’t finish explaining how you’re right, but also wrong.”

She readjusted the files when they started to slip. “I made a goal to be better at taking your constructive criticism, so I’ll do my best to stand here and nod and agree.”

I clenched my jaw, the humor leaking out of me. “That’s not what I want.” I set my laptop bag on my desk. “You were right when you said that if you’re afraid I’ll snap at you, you might be too afraid to speak your mind. And maybe I don’t dish out compliments to my team as much as I should…”

She only arched an eyebrow, but I could tell she had a lot of thoughts on the subject.

“But if I’m too soft, nothing gets done. Isn’t that the problem you’ve run into? Isn’t that why you’re here working with me instead of running things in Hartford?”

She pressed her lips together, but I wasn’t going to let her get away with not verbalizing her answer, so I kept on staring until she got nice and uncomfortable with the silence. “Yes. It has been a problem for me—I already admitted as much.”

“I also can’t let people disrespect me in front of my employees, even if it’s supposed to be funny—even if it was kind of funny.” Admittedly, when I’d thought about her “That’s not really faith” comment last night, I’d accidentally smiled. I might be biased, though. If Rob or anyone else in that room had given me the same answer, I doubt I ever would’ve found it amusing. Not that most of them were that sharp-witted, although given enough time, they could come up with witty slogans and ads. “We need to figure out some guidelines and social cues. We need…something, anyway.”

“I trip over guidelines, and social cues have never been my strong point, but I can something pretty damn well.”

I didn’t bother to hold back my smile. “I guess we’ll start there, then.”

She leaned her hip on the corner of my desk. “I thought about it last night, too, and it’s possible that I am too used to being the boss, and I don’t exactly like that I’m not anymore. Like I said, I’m trying to be better about accepting that I do have a lot to learn, and guidelines are probably a good way, especially considering how we met. I think it’s the only way we’ll survive working together without killing each other.”

Ortearingoffeachother’sclothes. “I agree. See? We’re already starting off better than yesterday.”

“It’s kind of like being proud of beating a kid to the ice cream truck, but yeah. Better than yesterday.” She shook the hair that’d fallen into her eyes off her face, but it just fell right back down.

Without thinking, I reached up and brushed it behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped and the shallow breath she let out skated across my wrist. Then I was cupping her cheek, marveling at her soft skin. She licked her lips. “We should probably have a no-touching guideline. Or like, just hand shaking.” She readjusted the files to one arm, took my hand from her face, and gave it one firm shake.

I folded her hand into mine, holding it instead of continuing the up and down motion. “Good idea.”

“Jameson.”

Did I say it turned me on when she called me Mr. Stone? Because it also turned me on when she said my first name. Hell, this woman just turned me on, period. I knew she had a valid point, so I slowly released my grip. “And in the conference room, you leave out the sarcasm, as well as the backpedaling. The acquiescing we’ll take one situation at a time.”

She leaned in conspiratorially. “But I can use the sarcasm here in your office when it’s just you and me? What about if I disagree with you? Can I tell you in private without you going all grumpy pants?”

“No promise on the grumpy part, but you can disagree with me, and I’ll do my best to listen to your wrongness.”

Fire flickered through her eyes.

This was the most fun I’d had in a long time, and I was about to lose control of my body again. “As for the sarcasm, I think I might miss it. I’m sure you won’t give me a chance to find out, though.”

“Not a chance.”

“Let’s start there, then. If we need more guidelines, we’ll add them.”

“Deal.” Her gaze dipped, running down my tie to the situation in my pants I was trying to control, and then she bit her fucking lip and the thread on my control frayed. “I guess I better, uh, get to these files.”

I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to say anything that wouldn’t be heavy with innuendo.

I watched her walk across my office, my erection straining against the zipper of my suit pants, which were as shit at concealing things as I was at tempering my reaction to my surprisingly-feisty assistant. When she reached the doorway, I said, “Kat?”

She glanced over her shoulder at me.

“Don’t you have any skirts that don’t show off your assets so nicely?”

Pink crept into her cheeks—the ones I could see, but for the record, I’d love to see if that blush traveled across her entire body. Even commenting on her skirt was probably sexual harassment territory, and something I should’ve held back, but as I mentioned, I wasn’t very good at it when it came to the woman standing across the office from me. “Is that a guideline, Mr. Stone? Longer, looser skirts?”

“Hell no.” I swallowed, hard. “And I better not say anything else because you’re of course free to wear whatever you want to the office.”

She glanced around the area outside my office—I assumed to check no one was around, which was something I should also be paying closer attention to—turned to face me, and stuck her hip against the doorframe. “Oh, good. Because I bought this new lingerie, and I’ve been dying for a place to wear it.” She punctuated her statement with a vixen smile, then she spun around and continued toward her desk.

Leaving me to stare after her, mouth agape, like an eighteen- year-old boy who’d just stepped inside a strip club for the first time.

And this much older than eighteen-years-old man was ready to throw out every fucking rule and guideline and beg for a lap dance.