Chapter 18
Alexander
This little liar. Typical woman with her little shitty tests.
I wonder if I’ve passed them all. I would’ve loved to take her right there on the hood of the car—or in the backseat at the very least. Instead, I’m standing here watching her shaky hands as she tries to measure coffee grounds into the machine.
It’s cute that she’s pretending to be tipsy, but she’s not fooling me. Still, I’ll play along—it’s entertaining either way.
“You’ve got a nice place,” I say, looking around more closely.
She has plenty of houseplants, and the space is clean, organized, and functional.
But there are also lots of personal touches—like the large board on the wall opposite the counter, covered with photos of her and her best friend.
“I don’t see any pictures of your brothers or parents,” I remark.
“Hmm, yeah…” she mumbles, adding water to the machine before switching it on and opening the fridge. “I could make us something to eat. Or I’ve got chips, if you’re in the mood?” She’s trying to change the subject.
“You don’t get along with them?” I press. Her rigid gaze gives her away. Sure, she’s had a few drinks, but not nearly enough to not know what she’s doing.
“It’s complicated,” she admits, pulling out a salad in a red bowl. She stirs it with two large spoons. “Chicken, cucumbers, lettuce, corn, and kidney beans. Very high in protein,” she explains.
“Except for the corn,” I point out. Then I add, “But I’d love some.”
“Dressing? I have light honey-mustard, or homemade yogurt.”
“Yogurt.”
She’s dodging my question again. “Do you find it uncomfortable to talk about your family?”
“Is it that obvious?” she asks nervously, though she’s still smiling. Looks like I hit a nerve. London takes two smaller bowls and fills them generously. She hands me one with a fork.
“Must’ve been hard growing up with three older brothers,” I say.
“Yeah, true.” She gestures toward the couch and heads there. I follow, the coffee brewing behind us. We sit down, only about twenty inches apart. “Vanessa says I sometimes act like a guy, because I always had to hold my own when I was younger. There wasn’t much time to be a girl.”
“Strict father?”
“Oh yeah.” She raises her brows and widens her eyes. Must’ve been bad.
“No mother to intervene?”
“I love my parents and brothers, really. But I’m glad I don’t have to be around them all the time.
My father would have loved a fourth son, and that’s how he raised me.
He hated when I wore dresses. When puberty hit and I wanted makeup, he was devastated.
When my brothers wrestled with me—even if I was crying or hurt—he cheered them on and told me to fight back.
But how could I, when they were so much stronger?
I was always covered in bruises. They didn’t know their own strength.
It was like locking a Pomeranian in a room with three pit bulls. ”
“Did they hurt you on purpose?” I ask, shocked.
“No. We were kids, and they were boys. Later, when we were older, we argued a lot. One would hold me down while another took something from me—even if it was just dessert. They were always a unit. Still are today. It’s like I never really belonged.
Sometimes…” She pauses, poking at her salad.
“Sometimes I think I was adopted. My parents treat them so differently—much more love, more affection. They always ask how my brothers are doing, what they’re up to.
Everything revolves around them. Family parties and events are planned around their schedules, never mine.
But I’ve gotten used to it.” She smiles bravely.
“You can’t choose your family. Over the years, I’ve built my own.
My best friend Vanessa—Nessa—is like the sister I never had.
I wish we’d met sooner. That would’ve been amazing. ”
“When did you meet?”
“Online.” She laughs sweetly, making me smile instantly.
I love that look on her. “When I moved in here, I was searching for nice second-hand things to decorate. By chance, I found her ad—she was selling plant cuttings. I thought: Hey, cool idea. So, I messaged her. We chatted for hours until she suggested moving to the phone. We hit it off right away. Then she came over.” London points to her plants.
“That was over three years ago. Every one of these pretty babies started tiny. Haven’t lost a single one.
” She looks proud. “Just like our friendship. She hasn’t always had it easy either. I think that’s why we click.”
I take a bite of salad, then she starts eating too. It feels good, sitting here with her. But I also want to be honest. “I know you’re not drunk.”
London stares at me, shocked.
“Did I pass your little tests? If so, great—I’ll stay.
But if you’re going to keep pretending, I’ll leave after coffee.
” She’s speechless and doesn’t even swallow her salad.
“You’re way too easy to read,” I laugh, eating more while she sits there, face red, unable to respond.
Finally, she swallows and pokes at her salad, as if she might find the answer she so desperately needs hidden among the leaves.
She sneaks a glance at me, then takes a breath. “I wanted to know if you’d take advantage.”
“I wouldn’t.” I set down my bowl, take hers too, and place them both on the table. With my thumb, I wipe dressing from her lips, then lick it clean. “I want you to enjoy every second when we sleep together. I want you to remember it.”
Her cheeks flush again, making me grin. Her face is like a mirror for her emotions.
“Do you sleep with all your PAs?” she asks.
“Only the ones who can keep up with me in sports.”
I manage to make her laugh.
“What kind of women are those?”
“Strong, independent women with an indomitable will.” I kiss her cheek and lean in. A sweet sigh escapes her warm mouth, which I kiss shortly after. Mm. She’s delicious.
“Won’t this affect our work relationship?” she asks, even as I’m already thinking about carrying her to bed.
“Only positively.”
I want more…
“Do you think I’m doing this just because…
” I know where she’s headed, so I silence her with another kiss.
I don’t want to hear anything about ambition or sleeping her way up.
I just want her. Naked under me. To explore her body with my tongue and hear how eagerly she moans when I fuck her in the wildest positions.
"It's just that I... will this be a one-time thing? "
“If that’s what you want,” I answer simply.
“You’re my boss,” she reminds me.
“Starting Monday. Right now, you don’t have one. Not for three more days.”
I kiss her neck, tasting her soft skin.
Oh yeah, not bad at all. I really like this.
Her little whimpers drive me wild. Her voice alone turns me on. I slip a hand onto her thigh immediately. I’ve been imagining this whole time—now it’s finally happening.
“So this is legitimate. You won’t treat me differently when we start working together on Monday?”
“Promise.” My hand slides under her dress just as the coffee maker beeps. Who wants coffee when I could be slipping this gorgeous woman’s panties off?
“And you’re not just saying that to get me into bed?” she asks, pressing her hands lightly against my chest to half-heartedly push me back a few inches. Her gaze is serious, full of concern.
“I’m a gentleman. No one will know and it won’t affect our working relationship. If you mess up, I’ll fire you. If you’re good, you’ll stay on.”
“Okay.” She seems satisfied.
So, can I continue?
Perfect.
I pull her onto my lap to get better access to explore and touch everything. London weighs nothing compared to the weights I lift. She straddles me, hands on my chest again, while mine roam her back.
She feels amazing.
It’s like unwrapping a gift. There’s even a bow.
How fitting. I slide both hands under her dress, caressing her thighs until I find her firm ass.
I pull her closer, and she lets out another surprised but eager sigh.
She presses against my chest, caresses my cheeks, and kisses me exploratively.
It feels like she hasn’t been touched in far too long. Or is she always this responsive?
Her gasps and eager panting turn me on incredibly. My hardness strains against my boxers and pants. I want to see her come. I want to hear what this gorgeous woman sounds like when she orgasms
And I already know: this won’t be just a one-time thing.