Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Aiven
I wished to say I’d never thought of my assistant in an inappropriate manner, but that would be an egregious lie.
I’d noticed her. More than I should have—more than was appropriate. It wasn’t intentional at first. There were fleeting moments when she bit her lip while she was concentrating on a task, or the way her nails tapped absently against her keyboard when she was mulling something important.
Once I saw her, really saw her, it seemed impossible to stop. The damn glass walls in my office didn’t make things any easier on me. Each time I looked up, there she was, legs crossed primly at her desk, scribbling away in her notebook or speaking on the headset.
It would be simple enough to excuse my actions by saying those thoughts would haunt me only when her yearly heat cycle came around, but that would just double down on the lie I was already trying not to fool myself with.
I was many things, but I was hardly delusional.
The first thing I’d been attracted to was her laugh. Laughter was a foreign thing at the Distillery. Before she’d come along, I couldn’t remember a time when employees had even smiled around me. Dessi had brought joy with her, and slowly, I saw others start to perk up.
That’s when I began to watch little Dessi.
How she walked, how she spoke, how she seemed to know exactly what people needed before they even asked.
I noticed how she always paused before answering a question, as though taking the right time to weigh her words to make sure they landed correctly.
Or how she leaned in close when she spoke to a friend, her eyes focused and warm.
She did little things, too. She’d refill someone’s mug without them having to ask. Or she’d bring little wrapped gifts for people on their birthdays. She asked about their children, their parents, or their partners as though she truly cared. Perhaps she did.
Now, I gazed down at Dessi nestled in my arms, her curls spread out on the pillow behind her.
It shouldn’t surprise me that she slept in pretty satin sheets the shade of candy floss, but what had taken me aback was the lived-in feel of her cottage.
Every inch of space was taken up by a crochet project, or knick-knacks, or an overflowing bookcase.
Every item was a shade of brilliant pink.
It was very… her.
In contrast, my home was rather utilitarian. A designer had put the place together with the color palette I’d provided: deep green, with the occasional burst of grey. I had no doubt that Dessi would be disappointed by my choice of décor.
It was strange how life had thrown us together.
I hadn’t chosen her for the role, but even I had to admit I’d chosen to keep her.
All the other assistants had quit within six months.
The most notorious case—the one that my employees loved to gossip about—was a beta who had shown up for work, heard me berating a contractor on the phone, and vacated her desk in two minutes flat.
I knew my reputation preceded me, but Dessi had decided she was up for the task anyway.
She was too warm and too kind for her own good. When she’d been assigned to me, I’d made a bet with myself that she wouldn’t last six months on the job. She’d proved me wrong, although I’d never admit that to her.
Three years—the longest relationship I’d ever had. And, perhaps, the healthiest.
Would it be strange if I admitted out loud that I’d recently begun thinking about her as the yin to my yang? The calm to my chaos. The rainbow to my gloom. The smile to my permanent frown.
She had been hired to make my life easier, but what she had done instead was make me palatable to the employees. A feat I would’ve thought impossible.
It was hard to keep the soft spot from growing and taking up all the room in my chest, especially when she brushed her nose against my skin like a sleepy little kitten waiting to be cuddled.
“I can hear you thinking,” she muttered, still half asleep. “You tense up when you think.”
I tried in vain to relax my shoulders, but they had been set in that rigid position for almost twenty years. There was no use trying to re-train my muscles now.
I glanced over Dessi’s shoulder at the little silver alarm clock on her bedside table. It read six in the morning, but that meant we’d only slept for a couple of hours.
“Let me guess,” she said, popping one dark eye open. Her words were raspy with sleep. “You’re regretting what happened last night?”
It was, in fact, the exact opposite.
After one taste, I wanted more. So much more.
It would frighten her to know the truth.
I wanted her like a roaring flame seeking oxygen—damn the consequences.
Even now, as she fought sleep, I knew I wanted to ruin and wreck her in ways no one else could.
I wanted to have her gasping my name always. Not just for a day; not just for now.
“This doesn’t have to change anything, you know,” she said, pushing her curls away from her cheek. “You’re still my boss. We can still work together. It doesn’t need to be awkward.”
“Awkward?” I echoed.
She nodded, fighting a yawn. “We can pretend it never happened. No one else needs to know if we just act… friendly.”
A shrug crinkled the satin sheets beneath us.
There was something about her nonchalance that didn’t sit right with me.
When I pressed my lips to hers, there was nothing friendly about it. I tasted her sleep, her dreams, the very heart of her, pulling her closer as though I could fuse us together.
Her breath hitched, and I felt her melt against me. Curse it all, she held that same heat, that same fire, and it seared me wherever she touched.
“I don’t want to be friends, Ms. Nayak,” I said, unable to keep the scolding edge out of my tone. “You know how I despise stupid statements.”
She placed a hand on my chest. “Seriously? You’re calling me stupid right now when your cock is leaking all over my belly?”
“That is hardly my fault.”
Her brows rose comically. “Then whose is it?”
“Why, yours, of course.” I loved this familiar space between us. Arguing was our common ground. “If you weren’t naked in my arms, my cock wouldn’t be hard and leaking.”
“That’s a funny way to justify your lack of control.”
“More so than admitting to your boss that you dream about her spanking you in front of the entire office?”
She gasped, pushing herself upright, the sleepy haze gone from her eyes.
A single finger jabbed me in the shoulder—hard.
“That was dirty talk!”
I lay back and pretended to mull over her words. “I don’t think it was, Ms. Nayak.”
She huffed with irritation. “Stop calling me that. We’ve slept together, for fuck’s sake! Just call me Dessi like everyone else does.”
“You know I despise informality.”
Her lips thinned to a slash. “You know what I despise? You. I can’t believe I forgot how insufferable you can be.”
I didn’t fight the smirk that turned my lips up at the corners. “You like it when I’m insufferable.”
She was quick to refute me. “That’s your fat ego talking, Ms. Burns.”
I shook my head slowly, deliberately. “You can pretend all you want, but you light up whenever I take charge.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I tolerate you at best.”
“I didn’t realize tolerate and scream-your-name-in-a-blinding-orgasm were synonyms.”
Her nostrils flared as embarrassment turned the tip of her nose a bright red.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Don’t you mean unforgettable?”
She slapped a palm against her forehead.
“Sleeping with you must have been a moment of insanity,” she quipped, turning away to look for her clothes. Her angry pheromones trailed behind her like little sparks in the air.
I rose from a lazy sprawl and caught her before she could leave the bed.
“You’re not going anywhere, omega,” I said, my hands tightening around her waist. “In fact, we’re not leaving this bed today.”
She froze, lips poised with a rebuttal.
“You’re going to stay right here with your face planted in these impractical slippery sheets while I watch your pretty ass bounce on my cock.”
She made a small sound. In a different iteration, it might have been a scoff of disbelief.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” she grumbled. “Stop talking and maybe we can make this work.”
In Dessi’s arms, there was one singular truth: I could have her a hundred times, sink my cock into her a thousand different ways, and I’d still want more. Always more.
I’d have her, over and over, until no part of her remained unmarked by my teeth, my tongue.