Page 137 of Fifth Avenue Fling

Occasionally, he surprises me over the speaker. Sometimes hearing his low, husky American drawl pumping through the speakers is pretty sexy. A nice distraction from bed making.

Sometimes it’s not.

Last week, I farted loudly, and two minutes later, Killian spoke to me over the loudspeaker. I’ve been agonizing over whether he heard me or not since then. I’m pretty confident Americans don’t fart as much as the Irish. My ex thought letting one rip in front of me was a rite of passage.

But since I moved in with Killian, I haven’t heard him release any.

My phonebuzzesfor the millionth time today.

Killian: Water refill.

Demanding git. I’ve been running around all day for him, bringing up cups of coffee and tea and lunch and smoothies. If he were a boyfriend, I’d tell him to refill his own fucking water. But he’s not. He’s my arrogant live-in boss who I’m having a casual fling with.

And I’m a weak woman because it’s turning me on.

He looks so grumpy every time I visit his office to fulfill his latest demand that he might as well have “do not disturb” tattooed across his forehead. He’s always on the phone yelling at some poor schmuck. I love my new American vocabulary.

I smirk to myself. Perhaps I need to liven his workday up a little.

Yes, sir, I text back.

I hurry down to my studio and slip into the lingerie and chokerensembleKillian had caught me fawning over in the hotel that first day we met. I douse myself in perfume, brush my teeth, and touch up my makeup.

A quick mirror check says I look good. No stray hairs. No belly bloat.

Efficiency is key. I only have twenty minutes before I need to be out the door. He’s given me the most mundane task ever. I have to wait at City Hall to get some paperwork done, so I can’t even have lunch. What a tyrant.

I head back upstairs, my heels clicking on the marble floor. Ireallyhope the security guys aren’t watching through the camera.

I pause outside his door, adjusting my bra, and then knock. It’s hard to predict how this’ll go. He could go nuclear on me and throw me out for interrupting his work.

“Come in,” he calls.

I step inside with the jug of water.

He’s behind his huge desk, a frown etched over his face as he glares at the monitor. Fortunately for me, I’m out of sight, so if he’s on a video call, no one can see the lingerie-clad nanny maid who has entered the room.

For a moment, he doesn’t even glance up. “JP, stop going around in circles.” His lips press together tightly. His gorgeous, thick dark locks flop over his forehead, and I resist the urge to swoon.

I’m a powerful temptress.

“I’ve found a way around the mayor’s—fuck.”

Fuck is right.

I have his full attention now.

Jaw hits floor. Smack. Fucking. Bang.

His mouth hangs open as he takes me in with his eyes, from head to toe.

It’s possible I didn’t think this through. There has always been something intimidating about him, but now he looks downright dangerous.

I strut forward with slight apprehension as I try to figure out whether he’s angry, aroused, or a bit of both.

“Killian?” a male voice, possibly JP’s, says from the speaker system. “Is someone there, or am I boring you?”

“Yes,” Killian says in a low voice, eyes on me. His hands tighten around the edge of the desk.

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