Foreplay with the Boss: Billionaires of Boston

12. Kat

Sure. Justavoidtheguywhoseofficeismerefeetfromyourdesk.Theguywhotakesupeveryinchofspacewheneverhe’snear.Greatplan,Kat.

In my defense, I came up with it before I’d had caffeine. The blinds on his office window were up, and I tested the bounds of my chair and leaned back until it wobbled enough to give me heart palpitations.

Yes, the chair was the only thing giving me heart palpitations. Not the glimpse of Jameson in his office, every inch of him screaming power and control as he talked to his eleven-thirty appointment—the as common, and unremarkable as his name, Bob Smith.

Debra came wandering over with a brown bag. “Is he still in there? I’ve got Jameson’s lunch from the deli. When he’s done, will you give it to him?”

“Um, actually, I’m going to sneak out to lunch real fast, while he has a break in clients and no one needs entertaining.” I knew I was being ridiculous. I couldn’t avoid him forever—we had a six- thirty meeting, after all. But I couldn’t go in and talk and pretend that I didn’t feel all mixed up about everything Jameson Stone.

Knowing he was on a dinner date on Friday night with someone named Vivienne ate at me, a scab I couldn’t stop picking.

I was sure they’d shared more than dinner together, and I experienced overwhelming amounts of jealousy and bitterness toward a woman I’d never meant. Which made no sense, because I had no claim on him. I’d told him that I couldn’t be a hookup girl without getting too attached, but there’d been no hooking up, and yet here I was, experiencing a mix of attached and pissed that he’d gone out to dinner with another woman.

I saw Bob Smith shift forward in his seat, and that was my cue to get the hell out of here. I turned to grab my purse, and when I straightened, my gaze met Jameson’s for one, electrifying second.

“See you after lunch,” I said to Debra, panic pitching my voice higher than usual. I strode across the office, head down, and when I heard people coming, I pushed the elevator’s down button repeatedly, as if that’d make it come fast enough for me to climb on and get away before they reached me.

Where’rethestairs?

Really,Kat?You’regoingtohuffitdowntwenty-fiveflightsofstairsinfive-inchstilettosandabindingskirtthatdoesn’tleavemuchwiggleroom? I’d return drenched in sweat, but bonus, my workout for the day would be done.

Unless I fell halfway through my descent and ended up bloody and with broken limbs. Yeah. That’d be my luck.

Of course the elevator arrived at the same time Bob Smith and Jameson did. I assumed that Jameson would simply tell Bob goodbye and go back to his office.

Instead, he climbed on the elevator with us.

“Oh. Debra has your lunch, Mr. Stone. Didn’t you see her?”

Jameson regarded me for a moment. “I feel like something else for lunch, so I’m going to save my sandwich for dinner.”

Wow. We were talking about food, and I still found it hot. Probably because of the way he looked at me when he said he felt like something else for lunch like I was on the menu.

Okay,nowyou’regettingcarriedaway.Your boss lookedatyouwhilehewasansweringyou.Definitelyasignhewantsyou.

Then again, he had told me that he’d thought of every way he could rid me of my clothes and make me scream his name. I glanced down, wishing for a water bottle to help with the desert that’d taken over my mouth at that thought.

The elevator doors opened and I took a step forward, but Jameson’s arm shot out, barring my exit. He smiled at Mr. Smith. “I’ll be in touch.”

He stared at him until he got the hint and exited the elevator.

The doors closed and then it was just the two of us.

Jameson took a step toward me. I took a step backward.

He advanced another. My back hit the wall.

Jameson braced his hand next to my head, his body leaning close enough for me to feel the heat coming off it. “What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to go to lunch, but my boss is breaking the rules and touching me.”

“Well, if I’m going to get accused of touching you…” He trailed his free hand up my thigh and dragged his fingertips across the hem of my skirt. Dizziness set in as the temperature in the elevator shot up.

“Jameson…”

He dipped his head, forcing my gaze to his. “Why have you been weird all day, Kat?”

“Eventually someone’s going to call this elevator, you know.” He didn’t look worried.

I stared at the knot in his silvery-blue tie, thinking it’d help, but even the way it secured his collar to his thick neck was sexy, and the next drag of his fingertips—up the inside of my thigh this time—left my panties damp. “Is it…w-weird to get work done? Because that’s what I’ve been doing all day. And we agreed this was a bad idea, remember?”

He jerked my chin up so that our eyes locked and then ran his thumb across my lower lip, so many tingly sensations in so many places that I could hardly keep track anymore. “You said it was. I would hardly say I agreed.”

My mouth dropped, and a cocky smirk stretched across his face.

The elevator door opened and Jameson remained right where he was—he might not care what people thought about us, but I did.

I quickly dipped under his arm, and he let me go. Naturally, I bumped into the person trying to get on the elevator, because I was super good at life.

Jameson stepped out right behind me, all smooth-like and without knocking into people. “Fine, you win. Now, let’s go grab some lunch.”

Thanks to him getting me all worked up in the elevator, every step only reminded me of all the throbbing places begging for relief. “How is that me winning?”

“Trust me, it’ll feel like a win for both of us.” Jameson nudged me toward the lobby doors. “Now, hurry, or you’ll make me late for my next appointment.”

I shook my head. “This is who I’m supposed to be learning from? A guy who doesn’t understand the meaning of words and has impulse control problems?”

Jameson took a large step so he could pull open the door for me. “You just listed my best two qualities.”

This guy was impossible—no wonder I’d played the What If game all weekend.

What if I’d said yes to getting this out of our systems…? What if the crash afterward was worth the during…?

What if I told him I wanted to expand on the ways he was going to make me scream his name? I wanted to hear all the deliciously filthy ideas. To have them all laid out in front of me, so I could say Iwanttotrythatone.

I had a few ideas of my own as well, even though I’d probably never be able to just lay them out. What if he thought they were too kinky? Then I’d have to face him every day and deal with the fact that he knew my deepest, darkest fantasies.

Nothanks.

He placed his hand on my back as we started down the sidewalk, and I shot him a look. “What?” he asked, all false innocence. “I’d guide any woman I was with like this.”

That’stheproblem… A problem I needed to remind myself of often, before I started playing the What If game all over again.

But the questions continued to dance along the corners of my mind.

Whatifhe’sintokinkysex? I could be missing my only opportunity to try out things I’d always wanted to try.

God, if he was, I’d finally have the sex life I’d dreamed of.

For anywhere from a week to a month and a half. Sure there was a good chance that I’d be slightly crushed at the end, but to experience amazing sex at least a couple of times in my life, it almost seemed like it’d be worth it.

Almost.