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Grant coughed. “You what?”

Somehow Grant managed to pronounce the h in what, his accent getting thicker when caught off guard. The simple little quirk managed to make the knot in her belly loosen a bit. “The guy I’m competing with for the job called me a hot piece of ass and then wouldn’t get out of my way.”

The chair squeaked again. “That motherfucker. I’m on the way over.”

“No,” she said, then realized she’d spoken too loudly. She took a breath. “I’m not calling you for help. I handled it. I just…I don’t know. I’m starting to think morphing myself into something I’m not is the coward’s way of getting this promotion.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I see. And what do you think you’re morphing yourself into, Charli?”

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger over and over again, a childhood habit that seemed to reappear when she was stressed. “I don’t know. The sweet, pretty girl who acts submissive and yielding around guys. I’m becoming that girl my mother always wanted me to be.”

Grant sniffed. “Darlin’, you haven’t changed into anything. You are sweet and you are pretty. Those things were there from the start even if you or your mother didn’t realize it. As for the submissive part, the fact that you punched that guy today shows that you’re still all tomboy. None of the training we’ve done has taken any of that from you.”

She stared at her screen saver, contemplating his words. “So all this time, you’ve known training wasn’t working?”

“I didn’t want to train any of that out of you, freckles. We’re only working on polishing what’s already there for your audition. Your feistiness is what makes you so fucking sexy. Makes the fact that you submit to me and no one else so damn hot.”

“Oh,” she said, her blood beginning to pump a little harder, and not from anger this time.

“Honestly, I’ve got to tell you, the fact that you punched that asshole has got me hard as rock right now.”

She bit her lip, holding back a smile. “Is that right?”

“Damn straight.”

She leaned forward in her chair, shielding her face with her hair in case anyone walked by. “Maybe you should take care of that.”

“Ah, naughty thing, you like the idea of me stroking myself to thoughts of you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Maybe I’ll do just that. If you were close enough, I’d order you to come over here and climb onto my lap.”

She crossed her legs beneath her desk, trying to fend off the dampness gathering there. “Too bad I already had lunch.”

“Mmm.” She could picture him spreading those muscular thighs of his and unzipping his pants, sliding his hand along his shaft. “That is a damn shame, freckles. My fist is a poor substitute for that sexy body of yours.”

A thick file folder landed on her desk with a loud smack. She jumped, so engrossed in the conversation, she hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Hold on a sec.”

She spun her chair to find Pete glaring at her. “Trey wants you to work on the Valley High School story. The information is in there.”

“Fine,” she spit out, hoping her cheeks weren’t as flaming red as they felt.

He tilted his head, his gaze darting toward the phone and then down to her shirt. She glanced down. Of course, her nipples were standing at attention against the soft fabric of her shirt. He dragged his lips together, as if smoothing invisible Chap Stick. “He wants the story by the end of the week.”

“Got it.”

She feared he was going to linger, confront her about slugging him. But he turned around and was gone. She released the breath she’d been holding. Annoying ass. She put the phone back to her ear. “Sorry. Work stuff. Where were we?”

“Imagine those bastards expecting you to actually work,” Grant mused. “And I’m about halfway to coming, where are you, sweet Charlotte?”

“Wishing I was there,” she said wistfully. “Touching you.”

“Are you wet for me?”

“Perhaps.”

A soft groan slipped from him. “How much privacy does your office allow? Any security cameras?”

She peeked over her shoulder. “I’m in a back corner cubicle and my neighbor is at lunch. No cameras. The office is loud, but I have no door.”

“Look in your purse, Charlotte. Inside pocket. I put a present in there for you,” he said, mischief in his words.


Tags: Roni Loren Loving on the Edge Erotic