Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The sun shined its bright light through the curtains in my bedroom, reviving me from my restless sleep.
Kinda. I opened my eyes with a groan. No matter how early I lay down, I tossed and turned for ages before I could finally fall asleep.
I was always exhausted. Would I ever wake up feeling refreshed, or was this a permanent state of being for me at this point?
With another groan, I climbed out of bed. Michael had already left the bedroom, and his side of the bed was cool to the touch. He always got up before me. Early to bed and early to rise.
I sauntered into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot Michael had brewed. I sniffed, inhaling the pleasant aroma. He always made everything perfect, yet I found myself feeling bitter instead of grateful. I sighed.
Still feeling exhausted, I headed into the living room and curled up on the couch with my favorite weighted blanket.
Yes, I went straight from my bed to lying on the couch.
I preferred the sedentary lifestyle, especially since I never had a moment to just exist on weekdays. Weekends were all for me.
Cuddled in the warmth of my own body heat, I looked at the tempting stack of books on the table.
I wiggled my arm from under the blanket and grabbed the top book.
The matte finish felt like velvet beneath my fingers.
I touched the shadowy image of the shirtless, gray-haired man dominating the cover.
He was the embodiment of a silver fox, and I was here for it.
He was also the married, overbearing boss of the female main character, and who didn’t love a forbidden man?
I sat up, rolled my sleeves up my arms, and wrapped the blanket around my lower body.
I listened for Michael meandering about, but silence was the only reply.
I opened the book, rested it on my lap, and let my eyes dance along the page as I absorbed every word.
My mind was a blank canvas, ready for the art within each word.
The fictional world erupted from the floor and surrounded me. I lost touch with my reality and embraced the place where I could hide from my responsibilities. I had no accountability in that place, and I spent my time with people who made my heart race with anticipation and exhilaration.
My hand slipped into my sweatpants and found my growing excitement, making my fingers slick. I throbbed with expectation before the spine even made that satisfying crack when I first opened the book.
“Zoey?” The booming voice came from an office down the hall.
I looked around at the empty cubicles. Everyone had already gone home, and the clock on my computer ticked past 7:30.
I’d stayed too late—yet again—but I had nothing to go home to.
Just a lonely apartment with a cat who hated me.
I tapped a pencil on the desk as I tried to finish the last few minutes of the presentation I was listening to.
“Zoey!” The voice grew louder, and I pulled my earbud out of my ear with a sigh.
After locking my computer, I stood and smoothed my black skirt over my hips.
The dingy blue carpet muffled the tap of my heels as I walked down the hall and stopped at the only other office still illuminated that late in the evening.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, took a deep breath, and stepped into the doorway.
“Yes?” I asked.
The chair spun around to face me, and Mr. Lawrence’s blue eyes looked me over.
“I’m glad you’re still here,” he said in an even tone.
He knew I stayed late almost every night.
“Is there a reason the reports for the client haven’t been submitted to me?
I asked for them”—he moved his keyboard to look at the calendar on his desk—“last week.”
Fuck. I knew I forgot something. It was a big thing too.
Probably the single most important thing I was supposed to remember all year.
“I . . . made a mistake.” I had no excuse for why I forgot to get him the reports.
Why he’d have to tell the bank tomorrow morning that he wasn’t prepared.
It didn’t matter that it was my fault, because he would be the face of the failure. Yeah, I fucked up. “I forgot.”
He stared at me, his lips taut. “You forgot? You aren’t going to lie and make it seem like you aren’t this incompetent?
” His normally handsome features twisted in anger, which I deserved.
I was incompetent, and I deserved to be fired for such a colossal fuck up, but I silently pleaded for mercy. I needed this job.
“I’m sorry,” I said, dropping my gaze. I had nothing more to say.
Mr. Lawrence’s chair squeaked as he pushed it away from his desk. The wheels snagged on the shitty carpet. He stood, walked toward me, and took a seat on the corner of the desk. The intense way he stared at me made me swallow hard. I felt like I had a golf ball in my throat.
He brushed a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You’re a good employee, Zoey. Smart, witty, well-versed, really quite the asset here.”
“But?” Please don’t fire me, please don’t fire me.
“This is a massive fuck up. What am I supposed to say at the meeting tomorrow? I can’t tell them that my employee simply forgot the most important thing I had to bring besides myself.”
“Am I fired?” I asked. I was torn because I hated my job, but my livelihood depended on it.
Mr. Lawrence walked to the coat rack in the corner of his office and shrugged out of his suit jacket before hanging it up.
He loosened the neck of his blue tie, which sat tucked beneath his crisp checkered dress shirt.
“No. I’m not firing you. I’ll just make a night out of it and do the reports myself.
” He sounded disappointed, and his soft tone confused me.
He should have been mad. “You’re twenty-something, right, Zoey? ”
I cleared my throat. “Twenty-five.”
“I have thirty years on you, and I don’t forget important parts of my job like you do. Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” He smirked as he walked back to the corner of his desk and sat on the dark, expensive wood.
It was hard to get reprimanded by him without thinking of him bending me over the desk and letting me know what a shitty employee I’d been.
I imagined him raising my skirt and using his big, firm hand to punish me exactly how I deserved.
This fuck up would get me so many spankings I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.
Heat flushed my cheeks at the thought, and I hoped he didn't notice.
“D-Do you need anything else?” I asked, getting hung up on my words.
Mr. Lawrence rolled up his sleeves. “How long have you worked here, Zoey?”
“Almost five years.”
“And in those five years, have I ever made you uncomfortable?”
“What? No.” I laughed nervously, swiping my sweaty palms on my skirt.
“Then why are you acting so nervous?” he asked with a genuine smile as he reached out and casually turned over the picture of his wife.
“Well, like you said, I made a colossal mistake.”
Mr. Lawrence grabbed a ball from his desk and tossed it between his hands. His big, strong hands. He noticed me staring. “Oh, Zoey, I don’t know how to broach this topic with you.”
“I can stay and do the reports,” I blurted.
“That’s not what I mean.”
He stepped toward me and touched the collar of my dress shirt.
I held my breath as he pulled his hand away.
My eyes trailed down the checkered pattern of his pressed shirt, stopping at his broad chest. I let my gaze fall until it reached his expensive slacks.
Even through the pleated pattern of his pants, I could see how hard he was. It was undeniable.
I bit my lip. “What do you mean?” I thought I knew what he meant, but I couldn't believe it was happening. Was it really happening?
“I have wanted you for a few years now. It’s unbearable.” His blue eyes softened further, and there was a throb in his angular jaw, as if he wasn't sure if this was worth the risk.
It was. I was certain of that.
Did he know how much I fantasized about him?
Why I often dropped my gaze when he looked at me?
How I couldn't focus on his reprimands because my mind wandered to his cock?
I wanted to know what waited beneath his suit.
Even the way he said my name made me question if he was as demanding in the bedroom as he was in the workplace.
I had made myself come to the answers to those questions more often than I cared to admit.
“Isn’t this against policy?” I choked out. I would break the shit out of that policy tonight. The rules didn’t matter to me, but I expected my question to bring him to his senses, and I waited for the realization to wash the hunger from his face.
“Very much so. I would lose my job. But I can’t stop thinking about your pussy.” He tossed the ball back to the desk.
His words made my jaw drop.
“I hope I’m not being too forward, Zoey,” he said in the most seductive yet fatherly tone.
“No . . . no . . . you aren’t.”
Mr. Lawrence’s warm breath brushed along the skin of my chest, making goosebumps scatter and rise to the surface.
He leaned in and kissed me. His clean-shaven face was smooth against mine, and he smelled like aftershave.
His hand drifted around the back of my neck and grabbed the clip securing my hair, pulling it from its place.
My auburn locks tumbled down, falling over my shoulders.
“I want you to make it up to me.” He brushed his fingers through my hair, fisting it at the nape of my neck.
“Make what up to you?” I asked. I knew what I needed to make up to him, but I wanted to hear more of his sultry and commanding words.
He smirked. “All this time I’ll have to spend finishing the work you didn’t bother to do.” His words were harsh, and they made me clench my legs. I crossed them to try to calm the throbbing.