Page 52 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession
Were it not for the non-fraternization clause, Will would have asked me out, and on a day like this, when I’m feeling on edgeand out of control, I might have obliged him and looked forward to feeling the euphoria of fucking his brains out when I finally got him in bed.
Unlike other offices which are partitioned by glass, the reception to Ethan’s office is private. I perch at the edge of Will’s desk and cross my legs, making small talk but mainly enjoying his rapt, lustful attention.
His hand goes to my bare knee, and I let him touch me, arching my back and ruffling my curls. His breathing picks up. I feel nothing physically, but my tension ebbs considerably.
“Will!” I hear a voice bark behind us. He snatches his hand away from my knee and springs almost a foot away. The bulge in his pants is obvious.
“Mr. Hawthorne! Ms. Russo was here early…”
I uncross my legs and straighten. When I turn to Ethan, he’s looking at a spot behind my shoulder, but his face is tight with fury.
He turns abruptly back into his office, leaving the door open for me.
I follow him, taken aback again by the luxury in his office.
Gosh, it really is beautiful in here.The blinds are down so it's still relatively dark, but there is a bit more light in his office than last time.
He walks to his desk in long, quick strides, then offers me a seat.
He looks good. Livid, but good. Seeing him without his jacket and tie kicks up a series of fluttering in my belly.
His tailored shirt clings lovingly to his muscled torso. His forearms, exposed by his rolled-up cuffs, are strong and tanned, and his hands are large, his fingers long, with a dusting of dark hair on them. Thick veins fan out of the back of his hands into his forearm, and my eyes follow them.
I remember the feel of those hands between my thighs…
“What the hell was that just now, with Will?”
His quietly asked question draws my gaze back to his.
God, did he catch me staring at him? He no longer looks angry, only mildly puzzled. He removes his glasses and stares at me. His eyes are warm when they roam over my rapidly heating face.
And why the hell am I blushing?
“What, I can’t speak to your assistant anymore?” I ask obtusely.
He says nothing but keeps those incisive eyes on mine. A muscle jerks in his jaw.
I want to tell him the truth.
And say what? Ethan, I was so nervous about seeing you today that I needed to regain some control and I do so by seeking worship. I’m fucked up like that.
No way.
Instead, I say, “You don’t have to worry. I’m not fucking him. I want to, but I want this job more.”
There are so many ways that he could have reacted to that. Irritation at my blatant admission to wanting to sleep with his assistant, disgust at my crudeness.
Or jealousy. Which is what I hoped for when I said it. I want him to be jealous because that would prove that he feels something.I know Ethan feels something for me, and I'm desperate to see it.
He gives me no reaction whatsoever, only puts his glasses back on. His lack of reaction drives me over the edge.
“Sure you can,” he says. “Well, I won’t waste your time. The reason I called you here is to discuss the upcoming expo in L.A. Chuck from the tech team emailed me asking for a downgrade. Whatever could he mean?”
I don’t want to talk about Dreadlite or those pesky tech guys. I want to kill the fucking elephant that seems to be standing on myhead. I want to know why Ethan shrouds himself in ice when his eyes are flaming coals licking at me. What is his problem?
“What’s your problem with me, Ethan?” I blurt.
“My problem?” His innocent act deserves an award. “Idon’t have one. It's the tech guys in L.A. who seem to think the files were altered in some way, and knowing you, I’m sure you upgraded the files as soon as you got the chance. Now, Bonnie, this no doubt makes for a good experience for the audience and consumers. However, for the purpose of marketing, and for this expo—”