Chapter 9
9
Ethan
“A ny of the guys there tried anything funny?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Her eyes widen. “What do you mean by funny? Some of them tell okay jokes, but sometimes the other guys laugh really hard and I don’t get what’s so funny. I think they may be dirty jokes? Is that what you mean?”
I groan under my breath and attempt to calm the chaos ripping free inside me.
As the elevator whisks us downstairs, I realize I’m caught in the grip of full-blown jealousy. It’s becoming par for the course with her.
I want to put her somewhere safe, then return to that office and rip out every one of their eyes for daring to look at her.
“Ethan? Is… are you okay?”
No, I’m not , I want to snarl. But I don’t want to frighten her with this monster I’m wrestling with.
“Long day. What do you feel like eating? Japanese? Thai? Or we can reheat that Italian dish you liked?”
The distraction works, thank fuck.
She shakes her head. “It was great, but I want to try something new. I want to open myself up to new experiences, you know? Besides, at La Montreux, Friday night was Spaghetti Night. I promised myself that I’ll never eat spaghetti on Fridays ever again.” She glances at me from beneath her lashes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Do you think that’s silly, Ethan?” she whispers.
My dick immediately roars to life at the way she says my name. I have to reposition my briefcase in front of my crotch to hide the fierce tent building there. How the fuck has this girl managed to exist without getting herself into serious trouble, even at boarding school?
“No, it’s not silly at all. It’s a declaration of intent, and good for you for sticking to it.”
She nods, pleased. “One of the girls got some takeout for lunch and it smelled amazing. It was Vietnamese, I think. Can we try that?”
“Sure,” I croak. “Whatever you want.”
She beams again, and something in my chest tightens.
She’s so sweet. Too fucking sweet for me.
My last two relationships broke down because my girlfriends complained that I loved my job more than I loved spending time with them. And they were women who were equally addicted to their careers. They knew my ‘ play hard, work harder’ ethic going in and still believed I’d have time for them.
Bringing Pia anywhere near that bullet train that is my life and career would be just as good as asking her to be crushed.
And why are you even thinking of doing such a thing?
She’s Philip’s niece. Your intern. Temporary .
“You’re still frowning.”
I look up, and the light has gone out of her smile and she’s sporting the tiniest pout while her eyes seem concerned.
Something new and unfamiliar kicks in my chest again, and I shake my head. “Just trying to remember a good Vietnamese place,” I lie smoothly.
The worry lingers for a few more seconds, then she nods. “I can call Susan and ask her if you like?”
Who the fuck is Susan? Ah… the colleague. I shake my head again. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
You better have. You don’t want to disappoint her.
I grit my teeth at the stupid voice and breathe in relief when the elevator doors open on the executive parking level. Since most of the senior partners are still upstairs, the garage is empty of people.
I walk Pia over to my car and help her inside, struggling not to drop my head to the curve of her neck and breathe in that insanely addictive and sweet scent.
God, even the way she smells is far too sweet and innocent.
Like fresh flowers on a spring morning where I’m used to fire and ice on a winter’s night.
Yeah, keep spouting crap like that and you’ll definitely qualify for the loony bin.
I slide behind the wheel of my McLaren and gun the engine too enthusiastically, hoping the noise will clear my brain of the madness.
Pia’s hands fly to her mouth and she looks goggle-eyed at me.
“Oh my God, it sounds like an angry bear.”
I grin. “Yup. It’s just the right amount of don’t-mess-with-me I need on the road.”
She drops her hand and flashes me a grin of her own. “I don’t think anyone would want to mess with you, Ethan. You’re too intense for that.”
My grin drops a shade. “You think I’m intense?”
She nods. “Everyone in the office does.”
I throw the gear into reverse, not sure I like that assessment from my staff. But then I shrug. If it gets the results I need, what the fuck does it matter?
I accelerate out of the underground garage and hit a familiar button on my phone when we reach street level.
“My man. You calling for a table? It’s gonna cost ya,” a deep voice answers.
“Not tonight, Lorenzo. I need recs for a good Vietnamese.”
An affronted grunt echoes in the car. “What the fuck, man? You call an Italian chef at his own restaurant to ask him for a rec for another joint?”
I throw a frown at my phone, as if he can see me through the device.
“Watch your language, man. I’ve got a lady with me. And I called a friend to ask for a solid. There’s a Macallan 18 in there for you if that helps.”
“Make it a Mac 25 and you’ve got a deal. Hell, I’ll even throw in an apology to your girlfriend.”
Pia’s eyes grow wider and a deep blush stains her cheeks.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I grit out, then snap, “You got a name for me or what?”
“Sure. I’ll text you the address in a sec.”
The line goes dead and silence reigns in the car.
I chance a glance at Pia and she’s biting her lip and looking a little uncomfortable.
“What?”
“It just occurred to me… I’ve spent more time at your place than mine, and I don’t know if you have a girlfriend or not. I don’t want to get in your way if you want to go on a date or have someone over?”
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, inexplicable irritation rising in my chest. Fucking Lorenzo. “You’re not in my way.”
“But it’s Friday night. Some of the people at work go on dates on Friday nights. Don’t you want to be?—”
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Pia.”
“Oh. Okay.” The smallest smile blooms again and I want to stop the car, drag her into my lap and devour her mouth and that insanely gorgeous smile. “What about one of those… casual hook-up things?”
“A casual hook-up thing?” Who on earth has this girl been talking to? I need to find them and punch them somewhere truly memorable.
“I don’t have anywhere to be or anyone to hook up with.” Okay, now I sound a little pathetic.
I’m a grown, healthy male with a fully functioning libido in the prime of my life. My bank account is obscenely fat, I love to fuck, and my social circle is the envy of my peers.
I have no reason to be self-conscious about what I sound like to a twenty-year-old. And yet… what if she finds me boring?
I’m scrambling for an excuse when luckily a ping signals the text from Lorenzo. I place a call and order a probably insane amount of food.
We pick it up and I drive us home.
We go through the usual routine of her stepping off one floor early to go change, and she’s at my place and we’re eating within ten minutes.
The food is delicious and I get a kick from feeding Pia, watching her eyes sparkle as she chews, sometimes with that cute hand-in-front-of-her-mouth thing.
As we’re finishing, she sends me two quick glances and tension rips through me. “You said we could talk about spanking.”
For the second time this week, I almost disgrace myself by spewing the contents of my mouth all over myself.
Jesus Christ.
Her timing is woefully deplorable. I rub my chest and let the chopsticks clatter to the plate.
She blinks her gorgeous blue eyes at me. “Are you okay, Ethan?”
Time to take control of this before I die of a heart attack. Or severe heartburn. “I’m fine,” I reply crisply.
Standing, I take my plate to the sink and discard my half-eaten bo kho down the garbage chute. Leaving the plate in the sink, I turn to face her, willing my chub to die down.
But, fuck, she’s staring at me with half-trepidation, half-expectation. And that one hundred percent innocence blazing from her face?
How has she not been kidnapped by some deranged, fixated psycho and kept under lock and key so other deranged psychos like me don’t have access to her?
“Look, Pia. You can’t really go around asking guys about spanking.”
She looks crestfallen for a moment, then the tiniest spark of defiance enters her eyes. I want to douse it immediately. I also want to fan it into a blaze and feel it burn every inch of me.
Yup, I’m losing my goddamn mind.
“ Pourquoi pas ?” She shakes her head when she realizes she spoke in French. “I mean, why not?”
“Because you’ll make them want to be the one to deliver those spankings,” I reply, much harsher than I intended to.
But she doesn’t flinch like she would’ve done a few days ago. She blinks those eyes at me. Then takes a thoughtful bite of her banh bao vac .
Swallows. Licks her plump lower lip slowly.
I groan and cross my legs, but I feel my dick lengthening. Thickening. Pushing against the soft material of my lounge pants.
She only needs to drop her gaze to see me getting hard.
“I don’t see the problem, Ethan.”
“Fuck, Pia, you’re just twenty.”
“And you’re just fifty-seven.”
I scowl. “I’m not fucking fifty-seven.”
She shrugs. “Oh, I thought we were just tossing out random numbers.”
Cheeky, infuriating, sweet fucking girl. “I’m serious.”
“I’m not bothered by your age. Why should you be bothered about mine?” Her head cants to the side. “Were you a virgin at twenty?”
“No.” I reply through clenched teeth because, this girl. She’s fucking killing me.
“When did you lose your virginity?” she pushes.
“I’m not discussing that with you.”
“Blink twice if it was before you were twenty,” she tosses back.
For that alone, I want to stride over there, lay her face down on the kitchen island, and spank that juicy ass she’s been fixated on getting reddened.
But as much as fulfilling that dirty fantasy would satisfy me, it’ll be playing right into her devious, unwitting little hands.
Hands I want right this second on my body, exploring. Taking my cock out of my pants, dropping to her knees and jacking like she’s pumping for oil?—
I fold my arms, taking a stern stance I don’t feel inside. And stare unblinking at her.
She gives up after a minute, sighing as she lays down her chopsticks.
“Finish your food,” I say.
She grimaces. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
I want to toss out all the reasons she needs the right nutrition and her strength, but it feels alarmingly like straying into parent territory. So I smash my lips together and swallow my words.
“My friends say sex isn’t a big deal. That the boys they’ve been with don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t think I’m missing anything?—”
“Good, then let’s drop the subject,” I interject, with not a small amount of desperation.
She runs a finger around the rim of her plate slowly, and Christ, I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. I’m almost terrified when she turns and catches my gaze. “Okay, let’s make a deal.”
“Pia—”
“Just a small, tiny deal. No biggie.”
I snort. “I’m sure as hell not walking into that trap.”
“Why? Because you’re fifty-seven?”
“I’m thirty-seven ,” I grind out, feeling as old as sin.
I’ve never been so self-conscious of my age as I am now. Which is bullshit. I’m not even close to my prime, and yet she’s making me feel like a dirty old man.
Because you are a dirty old man, replaying every filthy thing you want to do to her every other second.
A sweet, terrifyingly beautiful grin spreads across her face. “I know. I looked you up on the company website. Nice picture on there, by the way. Very…distinguished and très chaud .”
My heart thuds harder, oddly pleased that she took the time to look me up. That she found it very hot. But that pleasure twists into something erotic and dangerous when she stands and steps closer, bringing that enchanting scent and flawless skin and wide I’m-eager-to-learn-things-about-my-body look with her.
In bare feet, she only comes up to my shoulder, and all that curvy pocket-Venus-ness makes my skin itch with blazing need.
“I trust you, Ethan. Uncle Phil left me with you because he trusts you.”
Well, he sure as shit shouldn’t have. If he knew the many ways I want to pound your tight little cunt, he would get on the next flight here and whisk you to safety.
“Ethan?”
“Fine. Clear up the dishes and meet me in the living room in ten minutes,” I snap before I snap in half.
Elation fills her eyes, then she bites her lip, looking a little anxious, as if now she’s got what she wants she’s terrified of the consequences.
Good.
She opens her mouth, but I straighten up and shake my head.
“I need to make a call first.”
I don’t. I just can’t be in her presence right after agreeing to spank her to see if she likes it. Jesus, what the hell was I thinking?
Don’t answer th?—
With your dick, asshole.
I’m having a full-blown argument with the voices in my head as I rush down the hall. I don’t even need to look down to know said dick is tenting my joggers and is hard enough to smash titanium.
I shut my office door with barely suppressed violence and pace around like a boxer circling an invisible opponent.
It occurs to me that there’s a simple solution here. Go back in there—fully dressed—and tell her the offer is off. That she doesn’t need to know what it feels like to have my hand smack her tight little ass.
But… I don’t fucking want to.
Don’t want to see disappointment in her beautiful eyes or a pout of those sinful lips.
Don’t want her sparkle to dim because of me.
Most of all, I don’t want to deprive myself of the insanely dangerous pleasure of spanking her barely legal ass.
Feeling it bounce beneath my slaps. Maybe even catching a shade or two of pink as it blooms beneath her panties.
Because she will be keeping her panties on. Right?