Hot Boss - Anne Marsh Page 0,31
friendship with benefits. We hang, we do the business thing and then it’s orgasms for all.
Four weekends after our first not-date, it’s my turn to host. Saturday night we have a business dinner with some other Silicon Valley influencers. Not touching Hazel is torture. Afterward, I drive us to my place, but Hazel’s brimming with ideas sparked by the dinner meeting and she can’t not hunker down with her laptop and start working through them.
It’s cute, plus she usually has great ideas. I’m not going to get in her way. I don’t say anything as she climbs into my bed, arms wrapped around her laptop. I just grab my own laptop, fetch us both a cognac and prop the French doors open so we can hear the ocean. Turns out we do awesome bedroom brainstorming. Hazel’s definitely on to something we’ll chase next week at work. It almost makes waiting to touch her worth it.
I get up when Hazel waves her empty glass in my direction as she mutters at her screen. Since I can take a hint, I find the cognac, splash a few inches into her glass and decide it’s too much effort to go downstairs for ice.
When I turn around, Hazel’s made herself comfortable. She’s sprawled on her stomach, the T-shirt she stole from my closet slipping down one bare shoulder. Kissing her seems way more fun than the twelve spreadsheets she has open on her desktop. I set the cognac on the floor a safe distance from the bed because we tend to send the pillows and blankets flying when we have sex.
Hazel’s still distracted when I duck underneath the covers at the bottom of the bed and slide up. I run my hands over her legs and she shrieks. Hazel’s super ticklish, which is both funny and fun. I press more firmly, the way she likes, then press her down into the mattress with my body and convince her to take a break.
* * *
Sunday sunshine pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows in my bedroom. The California king bed is loaded with crisp white cotton sheets, a white duvet and a small army of pillows, because—like orgasms—one is never enough for Hazel and she “hooked me up” with pillows after our first sleepover. Hazel is currently starfished in the center, taking full advantage of my absence. When I slid in beside her last night, she wrapped herself around me like a baby monkey.
She’s sleeping hard, her hair ruffled around her face. After she showers, she’ll flat-iron it and apply crap from a half-dozen mysterious tubes until her hair is once again a sleek, shining cap. Watching her put herself back together is almost as good as taking her apart.
Step one in my wake-up-Hazel plan involves a kiss. Step two is all about the mug of coffee I hand over when she cracks one eye and shoves blearily upright. I’d like for step three to involve morning sex, but I’m not sure if Hazel has other plans for us today or not.
“Do we have anything on for today?”
She clutches the coffee like a lifeline. “Noon brunch at the compound?”
“Got it.” I peek at my phone and run the numbers in my head. It’s almost eleven. We could probably still sneak in quickie sex before we’re so late that we have to explain why.
Hazel’s family owns an insanely large double lot in Santa Cruz mere blocks from the beach. It’s crammed full of artsy bungalows, small houses and she sheds. I asked Hazel once if they were aware of the numerous zoning violations and she just shrugged and said that she’d taken care of it.
Unfortunately, Hazel figures out the time for herself and launches herself into my bathroom. She’s high-maintenance in the morning, so I figure it’s better to let her get started. She’s been this way as long as we’ve been friends. Hazel’s standing in the shower when I wander in—she gestures impatiently for me to join her.
“This will be quicker. Plus, we can save water and I’ll fill you in on the brunch plan. We’ll merit some kind of special California award.” She slaps the soap into my hand.
I’m as much a fan of efficiency as the next guy, but Hazel’s mistaken if she thinks my being naked and wet in a shower with her will save time or water. We’ve already christened my shower, so she knows exactly what can happen in here.
“You’d better give me the details fast.”
The look Hazel gives me says she’s