Page 4 of Boss of Mine

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“Sorry!” Paul calls out to me one last time as I storm past him, heading for my desk.

I don't look back. “It's fine, Paul. No worries.” I flail a limp hand over my shoulder as I try to sop up the coffee soaking through my shirt.

This is it. This is as bad as it can get today. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm finally here now. Nothing else can happen. I'm at work, and so far, no one seems to notice my late arrival. All I have to do is change and slip into my chair quietly.

Everyone else is focused on whatever it is they're doing. Eyes are on their computers, phones are pressed against ears, hands are swiftly writing notes on yellow legal pads. I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear.

I get the shirt from my desk, take a quick look around to make sure no one is paying attention, then duck into an empty boardroom across from my cubicle. I close the door and flip on the light.

The coffee has seeped all the way through my shirt. I smell like a damn coffee house. Unbuttoning my blouse, I peel it off. As I hold it out, coffee drips from the corner, puddling on the table. My bra is soaked too, so I decide to forgo the bra for today. My spare shirt is dark blue, which will work perfect. I can go braless, and not be concerned that I'm flashing my nipples at the office all day, or walking around stinking like a stale, double mocha latte.

I ball up the clothes on the table, and as I'm about to put on my clean shirt, the door to the boardroom bursts open. I gasp loudly, my arms dangling at my sides.

Oh my God.

I stand in shock as big, bold, blue eyes zero in on me. Everything around me turns fuzzy, tunneling into a purple haze. I can't breathe, it feels like my chest is on fire because I'm staring into the eyes of my boss.

Mr. Reeves. . .

My boss, the man who signs my checks, is standing in the doorway. My boss, whose eyes aren't on mine, but are fixed on my chest. Time slows down to nothing. I'm frozen in place, unable to speak, unable to move, unable to catch my breath.

The room chills, sending goosebumps down my body and making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. My fingers tingle at my sides, and my lungs hold still. I'm not breathing.

His broad shoulders almost hit both sides of the door frame. His tailored gray suit fits his body perfectly. He isn't wearing the jacket; it's folded over his arm. His orange shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, exposing the slightest bit of his skin.

This man has presence. His hair is long, about down to his chin, and shaved on the sides. It's pulled back into a ponytail that sits against his scalp. Sharp cheekbones and a defined chin give him a distinctive and handsome look.

My nipples bead almost instantly as I watch him lightly lick his bottom lip. It's subtle, but I catch the motion. Goosebumps erupt over my body, making my nipples hard as diamonds, and my stomach fill with butterflies. His eyes linger on my chest as he inhales a slow, deep breath that bristles my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

Mr. Reeves moves his eyes down over my stomach and my hips, down to the tips of my toes, then back up to my tits. He swallows, and the lump in his throat bobs up and down. I watch his chest as he inhales, and exhales with the same slowness.

The muscles in his abs ripple like waves. His pecs bounce lightly, and his biceps roll under the skin as he holds his jacket tighter. Mr. Reeves coughs to clear his throat, snapping me out of the trance I'm in.

“Oh, I uh, I'm. . .” I stutter, trying to find the words to explain why I'm topless in the boardroom like this. There's a simple explanation, I just can't get it out.

All I need to do is find two words. Spilled coffee. It should be simple to say that, but I'm tongue tied, unable to give any viable explanation.

Why didn't I use the bathroom? Why did I decide to come in here?

Mr. Reeves finally twists his head, and looks up at the ceiling, ripping his eyes away. “You might want to put that on sooner than later. The meeting is about to start.”

Holy shit! What is happening today?!

“Right,” I say, quickly yanking the shirt over my head. “I know how this looks. But, you see, the thing is I got cof—”

“Good morning, Mr. Reeves,” another employee says from behind my boss.

He steps out of the way, his eyes still fully engulfing me. “Good morning,” he says.


Tags: Penny Wylder Romance