My eyes flutter back in Mr. Reeves’s direction. His cobalt blue eyes, with streaks of indigo and steel, are still anchored on me. His full, jet-black brows lie still as his plump lips part slightly, and he exhales a slow breath. Mr. Reeves taps his pen against his chin, glaring—no, peering—no, I don't know what he's doing. I can't tell if he's angry or not.
I veer my stare, studying him the best I can without looking too obvious. And then it hits me like a freight train. I hold my breath as my brain explodes.
Oh shit, he's going to fire me. It's not that his expression changed to make the realization easier, it's a feeling. I can feel it deep in my bones. I can feel it in every breath he takes as his eyes stay still.
A woman named Moreen starts talking about our recent numbers and where we want to be for next month. Her words are floating in one ear and out the other, a bumbling herd of letters and vowels that aren't making any sense in my head.
It's hard to focus on what she's saying when my boss's eyes are burning a hole through my head. I glance away again, running my palms nervously up and down over my thighs. A part of me is expecting him to stand up and tell me to come outside so he can send me home for good.
My eyes meet his again. He licks his lips, shifting forward in his seat as he pinches the pen between two fingers and rolls it around. His nostrils flare as he inhales a deep breath, tilting his head a hair. His lips part as he chews the inside of his cheek, and his lids lower.
What the hell is he thinking? What's going through his head?
Your naked breasts, that's what!
God damn it, he's going to fire me. He's going to fucking fire me.
I cross my arms over my chest and sink deeper into the seat. Embarrassment surges through my system, turning my skin hot. I still can't believe I flashed my boss. What a stupid fucking move on my part.
Mr. Reeves is known to be a cold-hearted asshole. He doesn't give a shit about anything except this business. People mean nothing to him, but good numbers and a high profile in the city talk volumes.
Who am I to him? I'm a nobody.
I'm a new employee. I'm still trying to prove myself. I'm easily replaced.
There can be another version of me here tomorrow if he wants to trade me in, all he has to do is snap his fingers. He can upgrade to someone who isn't going to strip in the office.
Moreen sits down, and the room falls eerily silent. Someone at the other end of the table coughs, causing Mr. Reeves's mouth to thin and crinkle.
“Sounds like we need to boost our numbers more than just a little, Moreen,” he says flatly. But his eyes never move. They're sharp and smooth as glass, peering deep into mine. “Henry, how is advertising looking?”
Henry starts to speak, but Mr. Reeves cuts him off. “Stand up so everyone can hear you. For Christ’s sake, you have legs, don't you?”
“Of course. Sorry, Mr. Reeves.”
“I'm not paying you for your apologies, just do your damn job.”
“Right,” Henry says, and quickly moves on to his bullet points about the upcoming advertising that's been scheduled for our June issue.
Mr. Reeves is obviously listening, but you wouldn't know it by looking at him. Not by the way his eyes are devouring me where I'm sitting. His lashes create a shadow under his eyes. He tilts his head, blinking only once. One long, slow, single blink.
I feel like I'm falling. Falling deep into his eyes. His pupils are huge, pulling on every muscle, every bone, and drawing me in like a whirlpool in the ocean.
Nope, don't even go there, I think to myself, forcing my eyes up to the ceiling.
I catch the corner of his lip twitch as if this is some type of game. Maybe he's trying to make me uncomfortable, so I break down and quit? Maybe that's his plan. Make me feel as awkward as possible so he doesn't have to fire me, and I leave on my own.
No, he wouldn't think twice about firing me. This feels like a different type of game. A game that doesn't have any real goal. No checkmate. No finish line. Just a game to see how uncomfortable he can make me feel.
The only issue is that I don't feel uncomfortable. I'm turned on. His eyes move slightly, lowering to my chest, then back to my face. It's exciting in a dirty way. My body is hot, my nipples are hard, and my pussy is starting to pulse.
It's the same feeling I had when he walked in on me. I'm not sure why him seeing me naked and vulnerable turned me on so much, but it did. I felt sexy. I felt excited. I felt warm all the way through my body.