The Stopover (The Miles High Club #1) - T L Swan Page 0,34
he hardly touches me.
Imagine if he did.
I think back to this afternoon and the way his finger traced my body and then how he put it in my mouth and I sucked on it.
His words come back to me. I want you to fuck yourself. Long . . . deep and slow.
I close my eyes as arousal begins to heat my blood. He wants me to think of him while I come.
I go to my bedside and take out my vibrator, and I hold it in my hand and look at it.
“It’s a very cold substitute, Mr. Miles,” I whisper into the silence. I have a good mind to call him and tell him to come over and get the job done in person.
But of course I won’t. I turn off the light and crawl under the covers, and my hand brushes across my naked breast.
I close my eyes and open my legs and imagine Jameson Miles is here with me.
“Do you guys want to get some dinner after work?” I ask Molly and Aaron.
“Yeah, all right. Something healthy, though,” Molly replies as she types. “I’m never going to get laid if I don’t start working on this fat ass.” She types some more. “I have to be done by eight, though. I have to pick up the kids.”
“Yeah, okay.” Aaron sighs. “Sounds good.”
“I have training this afternoon,” I reply as I try to sound casual.
They both look up from their work. “Where?”
“In the management offices.”
“Oh my God.” Molly smirks. “Did he say anything?”
I drop my head. I glance up at the cameras. “I’ll tell you tonight.”
“God, I live for these stories,” Aaron whispers. “Please tell me you fucked him on his desk?”
I giggle as I finalize what I’m doing. “No, don’t be stupid.” I grab my manila folder with my fake news story. “I’ll see you guys later.”
They both look up at me and smirk. “Good luck.”
In five minutes, I find myself on the top floor with a ferociously beating heart. I decided not to wear what he told me to wear; that’s just way too eager.
What makes him think he can tell me what to wear, anyway?
Sammia smiles when she sees me. “Mr. Miles, you have Emily Foster here to see you.”
“Send her in,” his velvety voice replies.
I walk through the marble hall on my tiptoes as I make another mental note to buy rubber-soled shoes. How do I keep forgetting to do this? I knock on his door.
“Come in,” he calls.
I open the door and find him sitting at his desk on the phone; his eyes find mine.
“Hello, Emily,” he mouths.
“Hi.” I smile as I clutch my folder.
“Please take a seat.” He gestures to a chair and holds up his finger. “One minute,” he mouths.
I smile and nod as I sit down.
“I understand that, Richard. Yes, I know.” He listens. “I don’t care if she’s hardworking. She broke protocol, and there are consequences.”
I frown. What the hell? Who’s he talking to?
“Richard,” he snaps. “You will fire her this afternoon, or I will. And we both know who’s going to make it less painful.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Tristan is aware, yes,” he snaps. “But as the CEO I have the control. You have two hours to escort Lara Aspin from the building, or I’ll come down myself.” He hangs up angrily.
I stare at him, wide eyed. What did she do?
He bites his bottom lip angrily as his eyes hold mine.
“I’ve got the story you requested,” I murmur.
“Good.” He takes the folder from me and rolls his chair back as he opens it and begins reading.
He’s different today, angry. But maybe it’s just that call he came off from.
He inhales deeply and flicks the pages, clearly frustrated.
“Is it okay?”
He raises his eyebrows as if unimpressed.
I frown.
“A seismic weather event is hardly breaking news, is it?”
“Well, what do you want me to write about?” I stammer. “I can’t name a person or place or anything because it’s fake news. I don’t want to get us sued.”
“I am well aware of what it is, Ms. Foster,” he snaps.
“What’s wrong with you today?” I whisper.
He flicks the pages as he reads. “Nothing.” He reads on. “This won’t do. I’ll write it myself.”
I frown. “I spent four hours on that last night.”
He looks up from the papers, and I wither under his glare.
“Well, what do you want me to write about, then?” I ask.
“Anything but fucking weather.” He closes the folder as if disgusted and places it on the table.