Beauty and the Boss - MINK Page 0,14
ass. “Only the very naughtiest of employees get this, sunshine. I’ve never been pushed to give it to anyone before, but you are testing me.”
“Mmm.” She moves her hips, her ass rubbing against me until I grip her hard to stop her.
“Be a good employee, and you won’t have to worry about it.” I lean close to her neck, the need to run my tongue along her and mark her as mine almost overwhelming. But this is business. She’s new here. I must give her time to learn the proper way to be my assistant. It doesn’t matter what she makes me feel or how I can’t seem to stop thinking about her; she’s only here for one reason. Her father’s downfall.
With that sobering thought, I release her and back away. “The gala is an upper crust event, and you should dress accordingly.” I walk around my desk and manage to sit despite my erection demanding I do something about it. “There’s a company credit card in your desk. Middle drawer. Use it to buy the proper attire.”
Her tongue darts out again, wetting her bottom lip. I want to feel it against me, the softness of it, the heat.
“But it’s not a date?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.
“It’s professional.” I hate the way her face falls, my words dimming her shine. “But if you prefer to think of it as a date, you may.”
Her face lights up, and my sunshine is back. “A date.”
Why does that warm me? It’s not the superficial feeling of heat, the spark of lust I feel when I’m forced to discipline her, but something deeper. I don’t even recognize it, but I want more of it, and it seems I can only get it from her. From her smile. From her shine.
I turn to my lunch and wave a hand at her. “Eat, sunshine. Mr. Knight will be here soon to discuss my acquisition of a couple of his South American mines.”
“Yes, Mr. Baxter.” She sits and enjoys her desserts as I chew my already-cut steak.
“Why did you learn French?” I like the way she’s made neat cuts, portioning the slices the way I do it myself.
She shrugs, the color still high in her cheeks. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”
“Why?”
“It just seems amazing. I’ve read so many guidebooks and thought about going for years.”
“Why not go?” I have the urge to hand feed her, but I ignore it.
“Money.”
“But your father is--” I pause. “I mean, I’ve heard your father is a man of means.”
“He is.” She drops her gaze. “But he left my mom and me when I was little, and there was no prenup. So she got nothing, he took everything, and we had to make do.”
“You had to go without?” I spear a piece of steak a bit too violently, the tray scooting across my desk.
“Not too much. Mom worked. She was raised to marry a rich man and never have a job, but when he left her, she never wanted to marry again. She started a pet grooming service, and she still does it. I help sometimes when I go visit on the weekends.”
“Cat grooming?” I didn’t even realize that existed.
“Mostly dogs.” She licks the icing from one of her small cupcakes. “But sometimes there are cats. I prefer them because they can be so prickly.”
“You like prickly?”
She looks up, her mouth turning up in a small smile. “The prickliest things need the most love, I find.”
I take a large drink of water. “And now you have a grumpy cat. So you’ve found the prickliest thing on earth to take care of.”
Her smile grows, brightening everything in the room. “One of the prickliest things on earth, yes.”
That feeling rises inside me again, the one that’s akin to heartburn.
“What about you? Do you have any pets?”
“No.”
“Are you close with your parents?” She tries a chocolate mousse.
“My mom and I still talk, but my father’s dead.”
“Oh.” Her face falls. “I’m sorry.”
I sigh. “It was a while back, but that feeling never goes away. Or maybe, I guess it needs more time . . .”
She reaches across my desk and takes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
The employee handbook likely frowns on this sort of familiarity, but I let it go. Maybe because I like the feel of her warm skin against mine. Maybe because I’m turning out to be a bit of a rebel when it comes to my own rules.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand then return it so she can finish her