Chapter 2
RAFE
Icheck the time on my watch for the third time in two minutes.
“Motherfucker,” I swear under my breath.
It’s been twelve minutes, not ten, and while I should be looking over this contract that is due by the end of the day, all I can think about is how this isn’t running a little behind.
Seraphina knows if you’re not early, you’re late.
I’m about to pull up my e-mail to fire a message to her.
Pussy move, I know, but hearing her voice over the phone or standing up from my desk is only going to make the situation in my pants a hell of a lot worse.
“Knock, knock.” My thoughts are interrupted by the woman herself. My stomach growls in protest, reminding me that I hit the gym hard this morning and haven’t eaten since well before dawn.
“Come in,” I snap, as if barking orders will magically make food appear in front of me.
My jaw tightens, my fingers drum against the polished walnut while my mind replays the curves of Seraphina’s mouth when she smiled at me earlier.
A fact that only makes me more irritated.
Because hunger I could deal with. Wanting my assistant spread across my desk, tight skirt hiked above her hips, bare thighs on display, her dripping wetness soaking through her panties, the buttons of her shirt undone, breasts incased in lace heaving so much that she’s barely contained in the cups, so much so that her nipples slip out, while I’m sitting right where I am, my head buried between her thighs as I palm her full breasts, that’s a feeling I cannot deal with.
Christ. I can practically taste her already. Sweet and sharp, expensive like champagne and dangerous like the burn of a shot of whisky.
This is becoming a problem, a very serious problem.
The door opens, and there she is: Seraphina Westwood.
She walks in carrying a tablet, a notebook, and a pen.
I’ve noticed she doodles in between inputting appointments and notes.
Her dark hair is swept over one shoulder, colorful shirt tucked into her black fitted skirt, heels clicking against the marble flooring.
Cool, calm, collected, and infuriatingly beautiful.
And late.
“Nice of you to join me.” I lean back in my chair.
“You’re welcome.” She shuts the door behind her without flinching.
“Is there a reason you kept me waiting?” My mouth twitches, tempted to smile at her banter.
“One of us should experience personal growth today.” Christ, my sister, Sable, would love Seraphina for me. She’d tell me to pull the stick out of my ass and to live my life for myself. Sable would go on and on about how I gave up a lot of years for her, then to the government, and now to my job.
“There had better been a fire,” I grouse.
“There was.” She moves from the door to my desk, takes a seat, and crosses one curvy-as-hell leg over the other, pulling her tight skirt up higher on her thigh.
“Accounting discovered a discrepancy in the contract. Duplicate sales receipts of the same invoice. Multiple times, it seems, to, you know, pad their bottom line in order to get a higher asking price.”
“That’s not a fire, Seraphina, that’s a Monday.” She sets the tablet down in front of me. I study the numbers. It’s significantly more than I thought there’d be.
“I handled it before it could go any further, sent everything over to our attorney and told him the contract needed to be revised as soon as possible.” This is why having any sort of fling with Seraphina isn’t possible.
She’s an extension of myself, not merely the assistant most employers have. She’s worth her weight in gold.
“Less work for me.” Silence stretches between us.
Not awkward. Worse, it’s charged. I watch as she straightens in her seat, a nervous habit she’s probably unaware of.
I noticed it by the second day she worked for me.
Fuck, I notice every damn thing about her now—the tiny pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, the faint pink tint high on her cheeks.
I wonder if she knows what I was thinking about moments before she entered my office.
Does she have any idea how difficult her presence is to be around?
“You need food,” she states suddenly.
“Are you monitoring my eating habits now?” My eyes lift to hers.
“If by monitor you mean potential workplace hazards, then yes.” Her smile hits me like a punch to the ribs.
“Am I a hazard?” I question.
“Increasingly so.” The need to drag her around my desk and kiss that smart mouth of hers until she forgets every sarcastic comeback is bubbling along the surface.
I stand before I could stop myself. Seraphina’s expression shifts, not in fear but in awareness.
I round the desk slowly, watching as her eyes track me, until I’m close enough to catch the scent of honeysuckle and peach.
“You know, you get away with talking to me in a way no one else would.” I lean against my desk, crossing my ankles before doing similar with my arms on my chest.
“That’s because everyone around here is afraid of you.” Her eyes drift upward, stopping at the slight bulge between my thighs.
“And you’re not?”
“No, should I be?” Seraphina’s breath catches softly, a tiny sound that nearly destroys the last thread of my restraint. My fingers itch to brush a strand of hair from her shoulder, to feel the silk beneath the tips.
“Yes, you should.” Her eyes darken. I’m not thinking about the dangerous game we’re playing. I’m thinking about bending her over my desk and finally finding out if she tastes as addictive as I imagine. My gaze drops to her mouth and stays there.
“Rafe…” My phone rings, the sharp sound slicing through the room like a gunshot. Both of us freeze. I close my eyes briefly as every muscle in my body tightens with frustration. Of fucking course. The phone continues to ring, vibrating on my desk.
“You should get that.” She stands up, nearly touching me when doing so. I stare at her for more than a second, breathing hard before glancing down at the screen. My expression hardens, and she realizes it immediately. “Bad news?”
I don’t respond. Instead, I take the coward’s way out, putting an abrupt end to what fucking could have been. “That shirt hurts my eyes,” I say after my gaze drifts down the length of her body, lingering on the bright colors, when really, I’m stuck on the exceptional fucking view.
“You noticed it, though.” I exhale sharply through my nose, seriously close to a laugh.
“You’re staring at me again, Seraphina.” I lean into her space, lowering my voice and ignoring the phone ringing again.
“I am not,” she says with all the confidence in the world.
“You are.” Heat rushes to her cheeks.
“Maybe you’re just stare worthy.” I blink, clearly caught off guard, then my expression hardens again. But it’s too late. She saw it, and when Seraphina sends me a smile full of triumph, it’s me who moves, heading back around my desk and grabbing the phone off the cradle right as the ringing stops.
This shit has to stop. The only problem with that is, damn if I want it to.