Page 4 of Wham, Bam, Marry Me, Ma’am
Of course, I chose to wear my pencil skirt today. I'm average height and curvy, two things working against me when agility is what's between me and my first cup of coffee.
Undeterred, I tug the fitted skirt up my thighs as far as it can go and boost up slightly, trying to get myself onto the counter enough to scoot the tin toward me. I'm grunting from the effort, getting my fingertips under the edge of the tin as I pull it closer.My knee is now on the counter as I straddle it at an odd angle, but I'm so close. Almost...almost, I let out a little whimper, and then a throat clears behind me. I drop back to the floor with a scream.
"Mr. Billings," I gasp, tugging my skirt down my legs.
"Did I startle you?" His deep voice rumbles into the small space, causing my core to clench. I have to bite my lip in an attempt to hold back a girlish giggle.
"No," I finally say and then laugh at my ridiculous lie. "Yes," I amend, gazing at him a moment too long before turning back to the counter. I clear my throat, flustered. "I'll bring you coffee when it's ready."
I glance up at the high shelf again, waiting for him to leave before I shimmy my way back up on the counter.
And then, he's behind me. His spicy, soothing scent fills the space, making me lightheaded. The same scent permeates his office every time I bring him paperwork, but it's stronger, and, oh, so much more delicious up close. I try to calm my beating heart with a quiet deep breath, but it comes out as a small moan. His weight presses into me slightly, and my chest heaves. The front of his body shifts me forward against the counter, and I plant my hands to steady myself. I turn my head to the side, and his lips whisper against my cheek as his arm reaches up. I close my eyes, silently begging him to graze my cheek again. My neck, my ear, hell, I'd settle for my hair at this point. But I only hear the clatter of the coffee tin, as he places it on the counter next to me.
Mr. Billings takes a large step back, and his body heat disappears.
Which is for the best. My cheeks could light a furnace right now, so the less heat heading my way the better.
I stare at the coffee tin, embarrassed by my reaction to him and hoping he didn't notice. "Thank you," I whisper.
He clears his throat. "Just a reminder that this morning's meeting is hybrid."
Reaching for the tin, I manage to say, "Yes, sir."
I'm relieved that my voice sounds normal, but I don't turn around, afraid he'll see my desire for him written across my face. "Everything will be ready as you like it."
"Good girl."
I turn quickly, coffee scattering from the tin in my haste, but he's already gone. Did he just...good girlme? Letting out a sharp breath, I shake my head, laughing at myself. My friend Scarlett says I need to stop reading billionaire romances, especially when I'm working for a sexy one myself, and for once, I might agree with her. Wait until I tell her I moaned when he reached the coffee for me. I cringe from the memory, and yet the dull throbbing between my legs hasn’t lessened. After becoming an expert in smutty romance over the past five years, I would have told you that my real-life kinks are pretty tame. But the thought of Mr. Billings calling me a good girl, and I'm ready to drop to my knees and show him howgoodI can be.
Shaking my head again, I realize I must have misheard.
Good job?Good going? Good one?
Back at my desk, an email comes through from Stacey apologizing because she wore my back-up shoes home the other day and hasn't brought them back. She offers to switch with me today. Assuring her that's unnecessary, I slip into my sneakers. After practically throwing myself at my boss this morning, my footwear is the least of my worries.
Good girl, good job.
Tom-a-toh, Tom-ah-toh.
