Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Probably not the best of ideas.
He is my boss, after all.
Marco pushes off the pole that he’s leaning against. It’s the same place he waits for me every day because he refuses to let me walk to and from work alone.
Dawson raises his hand to stop him. “I have business here with my employee, and you are not to interrupt, or I’ll consider it trespassing.”
“You can’t speak to him like that,” I say, angrily. How dare he speak to Marco like that. But then I turn to Marco and say, “Dawson won’t hurt me, Marco.”
“Your father doesn’t like him. Therefore, I don’t trust him,” Marco states. And I know he’d do anything to get to me if he had to.
Dawson is oozing with that no-fucks-given power shit, but there’s something else. He also seems tense and slightly off. “I’ll be fine, Marco. Just wait out here for a little longer, please.”
He doesn’t lean back against the pole but remains where he is, alert.
I step to the side to allow Dawson in. He walks past me, and I catch a hint of his scent. He smells good. Really good. But there’s an undertone of whisky. He’s not drunk, but he’s definitely been drinking. Shutting the door behind him, I lock it so no late shoppers think we’re still open and walk in.
He’s watching me. The store is dark, and he makes his way silently through the racks and out the back. I follow him with a huff, feeling like an obedient, devoted worker. But then again, he is my boss, and I should do as he says.
When I finally step into Alana’s office, he’s leaning against the table, waiting for me expectantly.
“Honey,” Dawson says, with that smile that would drop women to their knees and break them.
I can’t help the gulp I take as I drink him in. He’s so imposing in size, taking up most of the space in the small office. And I know he’s imposing in size elsewhere too. Stop thinking about that.
“Dawson,” I say, crossing my arms angrily over my chest, still mad at how he spoke to Marco. At least he didn’t call him a lapdog or something like that. Marco has been called all manner of things over the years because of his dedication to his role in shadowing me. But I suppose someone like Dawson respects the role, understanding the life-binding contract my father had forced Marco to take to protect me.
“I had a visit the other day from Crue,” he states.
“Okay.” I’m confused what that has to do with me.
His gaze never leaves me. But the harshness that was there when he walked in seems to be vanishing. Little by little, I see the tension in him dissipate. I don’t even know if he realizes he has his own tells. Or maybe no one has looked close enough before.
“You were asking about me?” Dawson says.
“No,” I lie.
“Hm…” He pushes off the table and steps toward me. I want to step back, but I don’t, and I stand my ground. I’ve grown up with powerful men all my life and know not to back down. But with Dawson, it’s different. It’s not intimidation, it’s temptation, and that’s a more powerful thing. I fell for his game once. Stopping, he stands directly in front of me. “You were asking about me,” he states again.
“I…” I pause.
“If you lie, I will remove my clothing.”
My mind goes blank. “Sorry, what?”
“For every lie you tell, a piece of clothing will come off,” he says playfully.
“I’m not lying,” I tell him, then he reaches for his jacket. He pulls it off and drops it to the floor. I look around, shocked that he’s actually doing this. No one else is in the store, but I can’t help but think about the cameras, though I know there aren’t any in this room. What would people think? I stop at that thought. I told myself I need to stop caring what people think.
But this is…
… not normal, right?
Damn! It does feel good to be standing in this man’s compelling presence. I could breathe him in all day.
“Do you wear anything from here?” Dawson asks.
“Yes,” I breathe out because I can’t stop looking at him. I can only imagine what’s beneath his fitted white button-up. Surely, he’s only teasing me, like he did that time before he walked out on me. The truth is, I love the products in this store—the material feels amazing on my skin. But I wonder what he’d feel like against it instead.
“Good.” He pauses. “Now, show me.”
A heated flush runs through me, and I immediately shake my head.
I can’t be left heated, flushed, and alone again. I know the last time was a disaster. Can I risk that with this man twice? Considering he’s my boss now.
“If I remember correctly, you were eager to drop to your knees once before. Would you prefer me to remove more items?” Dawson questions, touching his belt.