Page 8 of Playing with the Boss
FOUR
Mason
Everything about this situation is bullshit. I haven’t canceled on the boring old fucks for dinner; I won’t show up. I’ve also got no intention of discussing job security with Lisa; I only wanted a reason for her to join me that wouldn’t see her palm crossed against my cheek and a sexual harassment suit on the table.
Although, a man could be forgiven for taking last weekend as an open invitation.
“Will you be here for the whole month?” Lisa’s heels click across the marble foyer as we head for the lifts.
“Two weeks.” I punch the call button before we’ve even stopped walking. Every second around this woman drives me closer to the point of losing control.
I don’t lose control. Ever.
And I’m sure as hell not about to start now.
“When do we find out if our jobs are safe?”
The door slides open, and I lead her into the lift. “I don’t know.” My finger hits the close button before the couple approaching can intervene.
I catch a slight frown from Lisa. It seems my haste to keep us alone didn’t go unnoticed. If she minds, though, she doesn’t say. Instead, she leans her hands on the rail behind her and makes those beautiful fucking tits of hers pop.
I turn my back to try and ease the growing hard-on in my slacks, yet her reflection is thrown at me from all angles. Goddamn mirrored lifts.
“Well,” she mumbles, still lost in her musings. “I hope that when we do find out—if the news is bad, that is—we’re given time to prepare.”
“Prepare?” I glance over my shoulder at her. “For what?”
“Unemployment.” She frowns.
“Oh.” I guess she must genuinely be worried about this. Surely if she’s as good as she says she is, then there’s nothing to be concerned about. She’d be snapped up in a heartbeat with a face like that. Society may have moved on from the fifties, but men are still men, and a pretty face still appeals when a person wants to screw you down for an extra five percent.
“Not all of us have well-paying management roles,” she snaps.
She folds her arms across her chest, doing nothing for my self-restraint. I eye the swell of her breasts in the mirror before me. She really is a knockout: all curves and softness. Goddamn, my fingertips still hold the memory of her supple flesh.
“What would put your mind at ease?” The doors to the lift slide open on my floor.
“Knowing I still have a job in a month.” She hustles past me, only to come to a sudden halt when she realizes she has no idea which direction to go.
“Left,” I instruct, taking the opportunity to adjust my slacks while her back is turned.
She starts down the hallway, taking her time no doubt so I can catch up and lead her to my door. I stay behind her purposefully, admiring the bob of her ass as she walks.
“Enjoying the view?” she quips.
“I am actually.”
She sighs and stops, forcing me to take the lead.
I slap her butt on the way past. “Can’t blame me when you package it like that.”
“Are you honestly this much of a chauvinist?”
“Depends.” I swipe my keycard at the lock two down from where she stopped.
“On what?”
“Do you like it?” I don’t wait for an answer and push the door open.