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Jade

Please tell me he’s still sleeping.

I lifted my body ever so gently to get a better look, since—what was his name again?—was facing the window. His blond hair was long and covering most of his face with the way he was laying, so I peered closer, and yep, he’s sleeping .

That was my cue to hightail it out of here faster than a burglar who triggered an alarm system. I’d had a nice time with John Doe, don’t get me wrong, but that had been last night, and this was a new day.

I got out of bed, finger-combed my shoulder-length brown hair as best as I could, and bit the corner of my lower lip as I scanned the room for my clothes. Oh, there we go. I walked over to where my panties had been tossed over the back of a chair.

Slipping them on, I almost fell and cursed under my breath. Then I covered my mouth and cringed, turning around ever so slightly, still afraid I’d woken him up. My heart was practically in my throat as it beat at a rapid pace. Why me? I could only assume the one thing I didn’t want to happen would.

Luck must have been on my side, though, because the lump of shit didn’t move at all. This was going to be a beautiful day, I could just tell.

You had to love a man who slept like the dead. It made it a hell of a lot easier to sneak out without having to go through the awkwardness. Ever experienced that? Let me give you some of the shit I’d heard.

Leaving so soon?

Want to stay for another round?

I’ll call you.

Let’s do this again. Tonight maybe?

I could make breakfast.

If we shower together, we’ll be conserving water.

I had fun last night.

Sorry, but I’m drawing a blank on your name.

Men were nothing if not outrageously predictable. At least, all the ones I’d ever been with had been that way. My childhood best friend, Jake, had begun calling them all Pig, said it made it easier that way. I preferred John Doe, or JD for short, but Pig worked, too.

I tiptoed out of his room and into the living room—if you could even call it that. He lived in a cramped apartment that smelled like dirty sweat socks and cheese. I sniffed the air and immediately gagged.

All right, don’t judge. It had been a one-night stand, that was all. A quick romp in the hay. It was healthy. For me, it was like going for a morning jog or getting on a treadmill—something you did to stay active and feel alive.

I didn’t have them frequently, by the way, but I was single, and your girl couldn’t fully employ her vibrator as her orgasm handler.

I needed the real deal every now and again.

So sue me. Not really, though, because I didn’t have a pot to piss in.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. As of late, I had a job.

A great one that was paying more than I thought I was owed, if we were being honest. Not that I was going to tell my boss that.

That would just be stupid, and I liked to consider myself moderately intelligent.

My boss, Reddington (“Red”) Lyons, was my ex’s older brother and not exactly a man you disagreed with.

Not that I cared. I disagreed with him a lot and had no qualms telling him that straight to his face.

I could’ve sworn I’d heard him call me a brat once or twice under his breath, but oh well.

The way I saw it—he could take his remarks and shove them so far up his ass he choked on them.

I wasn’t a bitch. Most days.

“Where are my clothes and shoes?” I asked to myself in a low whisper right before I stubbed my toe.

Shit! There was so much crap on the floor it was a wonder neither of us had tripped and fallen flat on our faces before actually making it to his room to screw around.

Hadn’t he ever heard of cleaning up after himself?

I’d bet my next paycheck that he didn’t even own a vacuum, judging by the giant dust bunny behind his couch.

If you could have even called it a couch, since the entire surface was covered in a heap of clothes. Great, how am I supposed to find mine?

It actually wasn’t all that hard. My eyes immediately came across my white crop top tee with a bleeding heart and my ripped jeans.

I got dressed and let my eyes scan the rest of the place for my— Oh, there they are.

Right by the door. My shoes. And they were right beside my purse, so I called that a win.

A chill ran down my spine just thinking about how many creatures were dead underneath that pile of clothes or, better yet, the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink. That was where the cheese smell was probably coming from. Made sense, I supposed.

Ugh. I had to get out of here.

I slipped my ballerina flats on and didn’t look back as I opened the door and left. Finally, I could exhale and inhale again. I had held my breath at the last second for fear of asphyxiation. It’s been fun, JD.

Walking out to my car, all I could think about was how I had to get home, take a shower, get dressed (in new clothes), fix my hair and makeup, and hope like hell I wasn’t late to work. Because the last thing I needed was—

“Put your problems on my middle finger.” Man, I loved that ringtone. As my phone continued to ring, though, I shuffled through my purse for it.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated that I couldn’t find it, but continued to walk the distance to my car.

Gum.

A pen.

Some condoms.

A couple of tampons.

Lip gloss.

Keys.

Where was the damn phone? Maybe I’d find it once I was in the car and could dump the contents out on the passenger seat because this was just ridiculous.

It kept ringing and ringing and ringing. Geez, whoever was calling, get a clue. Obviously, I was not available and couldn’t get to the phone.

Finally, it stopped ringing. Wow, miracles really did happen.

I got in the car, closed the door, and huffed loudly as I dumped my purse out.

Ahh, there was my phone. I lunged to grab it, like it was going to grow legs and walk away if I didn’t pick it up in that moment.

It may as well have with the rapid pace I lost shit.

Seriously, I could lose something faster than it took for a grown-ass man to come in his pants from expert-level dry humping.

I rolled my eyes when I read who the missed call was from. No one special, trust me. Just my boss. You know, the way I saw it, with as many times as he called me on this thing, he should have been paying my cell phone bill.

Well, technically, I had a work phone. . . I didn’t use it, though. Let’s be real, it took me years to remember my personal cell number, so the likelihood I would remember that new one to dole it out like it was candy was slim to none.

I dialed his number and—predictably—he picked up on the first ring. Before he could say a word, I cut in, “Oh, Doug, I’m so sorry I missed your call.” I stifled a laugh.

Red growled, the sound coming from deep in his throat.

Told you—predictable. Man, I loved getting a rise out of him. Honestly, it was borderline arousing, not going to lie. Plus, it was easy, so it made it even more fun.

“Who the hell is Doug?” he asked in his usual sexy voice.

His voice was rough, making almost everything he said come out like a bark or demand.

No, rough wasn’t the right word. Husky! Yes, his voice sounded husky.

“Never mind, I don’t care. It’s none of my business,” he said, his voice falling flat.

I licked my lips, enjoying goading him in this way.

“Good, I’m glad you can see the distinct boundaries.

While we may have known each other before this job, you can’t go asking me things like that.

You digging into my personal life would be a human resources nightmare for sure.

” I paused, placing a finger on my mouth.

“Have you ever had this dilemma before? Getting too personal with your employees?”

I bit back a laugh as he grumbled something inaudibly. “I’ll tell you what is my business.” I’m listening. “The fact that it’s eight o’clock, and you’re still not at the office.”

Wait, what? I pulled the phone away from my ear and checked the time.

Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! Repeating it three times seemed necessary, although it didn’t change anything, so I wasn’t sure why.

You had to be kidding me. “Are you sure your clock is right?” I asked, a hint of worry in my voice that he knew he was correct.

“Yes,” he answered, sounding like he was enjoying this.

I widened my eyes. “Are you grinning?” Oh, how the tables had turned. I couldn’t believe this. I slept in and still woke up before that asshat I’d slept with. Was he unemployed? Who didn’t set an alarm these days? Quite literally everyone I knew did.

“Of course not.” Why did I highly doubt that? I didn’t need to see his ugly—okay, fine, gorgeous—mug to know that he was reveling in this. Stupid bastard (read: stupid, unfairly hot bastard).

I couldn’t believe I was late to work. I mean, I liked to bust Red’s balls, sure.

It was fun (almost too much fun), and we knew each other, so it seemed like no big deal.

Maybe it made things less professional, and jobs shouldn’t be categorized as fun, but come on, cut me some slack, okay?

I wasn’t doing what I actually wanted to do with him.

Which was lick every inch of his skin and then demand that he stick his cock in every hole in my body so his arousal could seep into all of them.

Guess now you knew my naughty secret—I had the hots for my boss.

That sounded like a cliché. Oooh, was I cliché?

That would be news to me. I’d never considered myself that before.

Well, anywho, while I thought he would make an exceptional lay, I’d never act on it—naturally.

Here was why: he was (a) my ex’s brother, (b) my boss, and (c) not really my type.

Let me explain that last one. He was a tad too tough guy for me.

He narrowed his eyes a lot and seemed like the type who would prefer to be on top in the bedroom. But that was where I thrived.

So, yeah, riling him up every now and again was one thing, but being late?! He hired me to do a job—that wasn’t easy to find, by the way—and I couldn’t afford to get fired. Also, I had a feeling that no one would put up with my cracks the way he did.

Yeah, I had it better than I cared to admit.

I had to make this right. I switched the call to speakerphone and sped away from JD’s apartment building. “It’s fine,” I said, exhaling. “I’m on my way now, okay?”

“Try not to get into an accident, all right? If you do, though, my best advice is to call Doug.” And with that the line went dead.

I shot a dirty look at the phone, wishing we were on a video call, so he could see my expression. Not that he would’ve anyway since he’d hung up on me.

Oh, that smooth, cocky— He had an air of sophistication about him that made me want to simultaneously roll my eyes at him and squeeze his balls so tight with my pussy while I climaxed that he exploded into me in a way he’d never done before.

That would never happen, though, because I was a good personal assistant (okay, you could stop laughing now) to him—Mr. Reddington Lyons, businessman and CEO of Lyons Enterprises.

Morals could kiss my ass.