Chapter Three
ETHAN
By the time I get to the office, I already know today is going to test me. Just like every day at this job does. A buddy from graduate school just headhunted me to come and work at his company. It’s a promotion and more pay.
I should take the job.
But that would mean I’d no longer see her every day.
And as much torture as every weekday is, not having her in my life would be worse.
It’s December, which means the air is colder, the days shorter, and the office collectively pretending we’re not all one passive-aggressive email away from losing our minds.
Tinsel droops from cubicle walls. Someone hung a felt stocking on the printer like it’s a threat.
And then there’s Secret Santa.
The spreadsheet lives in my inbox like a loaded weapon.
I shouldn’t have agreed to it. I know that.
Office morale be damned. Any system that pairs anonymous gift-giving with suppressed emotions is fundamentally dangerous.
But HR pitched it as “festive,” and I didn’t have a good reason to say no that wouldn’t involve admitting I have feelings for one of my employees.
So now here we are.
I hang my coat, boot up my computer, and deliberately do not look toward Liz Harper’s desk.
Because if I do, I’ll stare.
And if I stare, I’ll give something away.
Liz has been my weakness for longer than I care to admit.
Smart. Capable.
Endearingly anxious in a way that makes me want to step in and smooth the world out for her.
For a while, I thought maybe she had a crush on me because of that adorable awkwardness.
But then I realized she’s awkward with everyone, and my ego, and my dick, tried to make it something special.
But either way, the difference is she’s allowed to have a crush on someone at the office. As the manager, I’m not.
I’ve made peace with that. Mostly.
Then I hear a soft thud followed by an apologetic gasp.
I look up.
Through my glass office walls, what a fucked-up idea that is, Liz wrestles with the copy machine like it betrayed her.
Of course she is.
Her cardigan has slipped off one shoulder.
Her gorgeous auburn hair is pinned up in a way that’s trying very hard to be professional and failing beautifully as several strands fall from the clasp thing she’s using to tame them.
She mutters at the machine under her breath, shifts her weight, and knocks a stack of papers to the floor.
I start toward her automatically.
She turns.
Our eyes meet.
And something in her expression goes completely haywire. In her green eyes, I see more panic than usual.
Her face goes red, not its usual soft pink, but a deep, flustered flush that spreads all the way down her neck. She freezes like she’s been caught doing something illegal. “Hi,” she squeaks.
“Morning,” I say, keeping my voice steady as I crouch to help her gather the papers.
Our hands brush. She jerks back like I burned her.
My stomach drops.
“Sorry,” she blurts. “I’m—sorry. I mean, I didn’t—sorry.”
That’s a lot of sorry. A worrying amount of sorry. “You okay?” I ask.
She nods too fast. “Yes. Fine. Totally fine. Just… clumsy. Extra clumsy.”
She’s always a little clumsy. A little flustered. That’s part of her charm.
This is different. This feels like shame.
Or fear.
The thought lands hard and unwelcomed. Did she figure me out?
I straighten slowly, heart pounding harder than it should over a simple interaction. I’ve been careful. Painfully careful. No lingering looks. No unnecessary touches.
No comments that could be read as anything but professional.
But people notice patterns. And Liz is observant when she’s not panicking.
I hand her the last page. “If you need help with the copier—”
“No!” she says too quickly, then winces. “I mean, no, I’m good. Thank you. For… helping. With the papers.”
She escapes before I can say anything else.
I watch her go, unease curling tight in my chest.
The break room offers temporary refuge and terrible coffee. I pour a cup and stare at the steam like it might give me answers.
It doesn’t.
The door opens behind me, and I turn, my breath catching.
Liz steps inside, and immediately looks like she wants to step right back out.
She hesitates, then commits, eyes glued to the floor like it might swallow her whole. She reaches for a mug, fumbles it, and nearly drops it.
I move without thinking. Catching her elbow, I steady her.
My hand feels the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her sleeve.
Her body stills under my touch, breath hitching just enough that I feel it.
She smells amazing, as always. Clean, warm vanilla mixed with something exotic that is uniquely her.
I breathe in her scent, trying to be quiet about it.
She looks up.
Our faces are too close. Not inappropriate. Not obvious.
But charged.
I let go immediately.
“Sorry,” she says again, cheeks flaming. “I’m just… off today.”
Something twists in my gut.
“If something’s bothering you—” I start.
She shakes her head so hard several strands of . “No. Nothing. Everything’s normal. Work-normal.” She grabs her coffee and bolts.
I stand there long after she’s gone, staring at the spot where she stood, replaying the way her breath caught when I touched her. What the fuck does work-normal mean?
She’s too skittish. She must have found out how I feel about her. And it’s torturing her.
My gut twists again. I need to get back to my buddy right away and tell him I’m taking that job. I can’t continue making this a toxic work environment for her.
The rest of the morning passes in a blur.
I mechanically answer emails and update budgets, but my mind is fully occupied with thoughts of Liz.
I’ve never seen her this clumsy and nervous around me.
It’s obvious she’s not interested in me the way I am in her.
I’ve entered creep territory, and being around me really bothers her.
Every task takes twice as long to complete, and it’s well into the afternoon before I take my lunch break. I’m not hungry, but I need a break from my aquarium office and depressing thoughts, and the weather outside has turned from cold to frigid.
Walking past one of the fake walls the company thinks creates privacy between tables in the cafeteria, Liz’s voice, saying my name. I stop in my tracks. The tray in my hands completely forgotten.
“I can’t look at Ethan, can’t speak to him. I can’t even pretend to be a normal human around him.”
Her friend Sara’s voice follows, amused. “You’re being dramatic. This is how every workday is for you.” What the fuck? I have made her miserable for a while? I thought this was a recent development. It’s worse than I thought.
“Not like this,” Liz hisses. “Now it’s much worse.” My stomach drops.
“What do you mean by now?” Sara asks. “How is now different?” A pause.
Long enough that my chest tightens. “Oh,” Sara says as if they’ve had some kind of silent communication that I can’t see.
“Because of the Secret Santa thing.” What Secret Santa thing?
It takes all my willpower to not bust out behind the wall and ask them what’s going on.
Instead, I keep quiet, looking around the cafeteria to see if anyone’s noticing me eavesdropping, but it’s deserted except for the food staff cleaning up.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what’s happened?”
“I had a dream,” Liz whispers. My pulse spikes. What kind of dream? I want to shout.
“About him?” Sara asks.
There’s another long pause.
“That kind of dream? Like hot-sweaty-call-me-daddy kind of dream?”
Liz groans, the sound making my cock harden. I would love for her to call me Daddy. Images of her naked ass bent over my lap invade my mind, and I almost drop the tray I’d forgotten I’m holding. Luckily I balance it in time and nothing clatters.
“Yes.” Liz groans. “Well, I didn’t call him ‘daddy,’ but it was very hot and sweaty. And now every time I see him I feel like he knows. Like it’s written on my face.”
“Was there dirty talk?” Sara wants to know.
Liz snorts. “Again, you’re focusing on the wrong part, but yes.
” I’m so turned on I have to hold the tray with one hand as I adjust myself.
Again I glance around the cafeteria, but we’re still the only people in this section, and the only staff in the dining area are on the other side, busy wiping down tables.
Sara laughs softly. “Liz. You didn’t do anything. It was just a dream. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”
“But I did. And there is,” Liz says, voice dropping even lower. “After I woke up. I was so flustered I couldn’t just… go back to sleep.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Sara: “Oh.”
“Oh,” Liz echoes miserably. “In the dream, he made me come, but when I woke up I hadn’t…you know.”
“Finished,” Sara fills in.
“Yeah,” Liz agrees. “So I got my vibrator out and…you know.”
“Finished,” Sara says at the same time as I silently mouth the same word.
The world tilts. Heat rushes through me, followed by shock, desire, and something dangerously close to triumph.
Not because of what she did, that is so fucking hot.
The thought of her working her toy on her pussy as she thinks of me has me so hard my zipper will leave a permanent imprint.
She didn’t figure me out. She doesn’t think I’m a creep.
She wants me.
Bad enough to dream about me.
Bad enough that seeing me afterward turns her into a nervous wreck.
I silently step away before I’m caught listening, heart racing, control hanging by a thread. I dump my lunch in the bin and head back to my office.
At my desk, my eyes drift, unbidden, to the email with the Secret Santa spreadsheet. Sara mentioned she thought Liz was nervous because of the “Secret Santa thing.”
I click open the email and then the attachment, and I scroll down the list of employees until I find her name.
Liz Harper.
Her assigned recipient: Ethan Reynolds.
Of course.
The irony almost makes me laugh.
She’s stressing because she pulled my name. And somehow losing sleep over what to buy me triggered a dream. A hot and sweaty sex dream. The. Best. Kind.
I, on the other hand, have been assigned to… Mark from accounting.
I close my eyes. No, that won’t do.
By the end of the day, I’ve decided.
I will find whoever has Liz Harper’s name.
I will trade. Bribe. Manipulate the holiday spirit if I have to.
Because she’s finally dreaming about me the way I constantly dream about her while my hand works my dick the way I want her sweet pussy and mouth to do.
And this Christmas? Santa’s going to give me what I want. What’s been on the top of my list for months.
I’m not watching from the sidelines anymore.
I’m going after the sexy girl I’ve craved from afar for what feels like forever.