21. Ember

21

EMBER

"... a nd that's when I found duck number seventy-one," Eleanor Golding gushed over the phone. "At a garage sale, of all places! Can you believe it?"

"No way!" I couldn't help but share her excitement. I always loved collections, and the weirder they were, the better. This was the most ducks she'd ever acquired in one month. "What's this one like?"

"Oh, he's a dapper little mallard in a top hat and monocle. I've dubbed him Sir Quackington."

"Love it." I grinned as I added Sir Q's details to my top secret spreadsheet: "Eleanor's Duck Armada - Confidential." I wasn't sure if "Mr. Foster" would actually consider this productive use of work time, but he could stuff it. I happened to like this client, and I enjoyed building rapport with her.

An amused cough made me nearly topple out of my chair.

I whipped around to see Julian leaning on my desk. With his surfer-boy good looks, permanent bedhead, and perpetually rumpled designer clothes, he was the kind of guy who probably peaked in college but was still riding that wave. But his eyes were sharp and knowing as they twinkled at my clearly non-work-related activities.

"Eleanor, gotta run," I said, smiling awkwardly up at Julian. I lowered my voice. "Please send pics of the distinguished gentleman!" I ended the call and faced Julian with my best professional smile. "How can I help you on this fine, productive morning?"

"Well, for starters, Moira needs your response to her email by EOD." His smirk widened. "But more importantly, you're a bit of an office legend, Ember."

I blinked. "Come again?"

"No one, and I mean no one, has ever gotten Orion 'Fun is my Kryptonite' Foster to bend on the lunch rule. Yet you just waltz out whenever for your little café rendezvous." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "And lived to tell the tale. And that’s only the first chapter of your legend. It just keeps going, doesn’t it?"

The word rendezvous brought an unbidden flash of memory from last night—Orion's hands, his mouth, the delicious weight of him pressing me into the door. I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together.

"Maybe he's not quite the tyrant you all think," I deflected.

Julian laughed out loud. "Riiiight. Next you'll tell me his sock drawer isn't alphabetized or that his bathroom breaks aren't timed to the second." He mock-shuddered. "We pulled an all-nighter once. The man is a machine. Every single pee break was exactly forty-five seconds. And then he spent longer than that washing his hands."

I bit back a grin. Around here, every single employee talked about Orion like an Olympian god sitting high on Mount Olympus. It was as if he was untouchable, unreachable, and hardly even human to them. And yet I had a crystal clear image in my mind of how deliciously disheveled Mr. Precision had looked after our heated makeout session.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the secret side of him I got to see.

"Thanks for the heads-up," I said pointedly. "And hey, maybe keep the duck spreadsheet just between us?"

"Your fowl secret is safe with me," he quipped with an exaggerated wink. I groaned and shooed him out, but couldn't help smiling. Julian was alright.

A ping interrupted my duck reverie. An email from Orion.

The sight of it made my stomach do a nervous spin.

Miss Hartwell,

Please see me in my office at your earliest convenience to discuss appropriate workplace conduct.

Regards, O. Foster

P.S. "Earliest convenience" means 9:15 AM sharp. Not 9:16.

I checked my watch. 9:13. Of course. Grabbing a notebook to maintain some pretense of professionalism, I hurried to his office—definitely not remembering what happened the last time we were alone together. Nope. Not at all.

The door was open, but I knocked anyway, keenly aware of the curious eyes tracking me through the office. For the most part, I was still treated like an outcast by my co-workers. Little by little, I was breaking through the barrier, but it was slow work.

My best guess was that people worried Orion’s extra focus on me would shift to them if they associated with me too much. Nobody around here really wanted Orion to notice them, and if not for our special circumstances, I’d say I couldn’t blame them.

"Enter," he called without glancing up from his laptop. I shut the door and turned to face him, my pulse pounding traitorously.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Foster?"

At that, he looked up, his heated gaze searing me in place. "About last night?—"

"You mean our business dinner where absolutely nothing inappropriate occurred?" My voice was a bit too high.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. "That would be the one, yes."

"What about it?" I was aiming for breezy and landing somewhere around breathless. I hadn't expected how much the mere sight of him would make my lower belly glow with pleasant but awkward heat.

"I think we need to establish some... parameters," he said.

"Such as 'no more mauling your new hire in dark doorways?'" I raised an eyebrow. "Seems fairly intuitive."

"Ember—”

"No, you're right," I interrupted, plopping into the chair opposite his desk and primly crossing my legs. "Totally unprofessional. It won't happen again."

His eyes tracked the progress of my hemline up my thigh before snapping back to my face. I saw the lust and hunger flickering in his eyes. The sight of it made a reckless, sexy little devil on my shoulder start whispering naughty ideas in my ear.

He wants to fuck me.

The thought seemed so loud and clear in my mind that I could hardly think straight.

Orion cleared his throat. "Good. That's...good. We should focus on the Davenport account."

"Absolutely." I let my legs fall slightly apart as I leaned forward. I ignored the way the motion made my skirt ride up, or how I saw his eyes fall to what was almost certainly a clear view of my panties.

I bit my lip, ignoring the rush of warm arousal I felt at his attention. "I actually have a riveting update on Eleanor's ceramic duck squadron, if you're interested..."

"Miss Hartwell." This time my name was a low warning. It was almost a moan, and god, I wasn't sure how much more I could take of this flirtation.

"Yes, Mr. Foster?" I fluttered my lashes innocently as I pushed my thighs just a touch wider for him. Now he could certainly see my panties. With how turned on I was, I wondered if there would even be a dark patch of arousal for him to admire.

He just stared, realization dawning along with a slow, wicked smile that made me clench all over. "You're doing this on purpose."

I widened my eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Rising from the chair, I tugged my skirt down with a playful little shimmy of my hips, then headed for the door. "If that's all, I should really get back to work. My boss is a bit of a hard ass." I bit back a smile at the play on words, wondering if he would connect the dots.

"We're not done here."

In a flash of movement and rustle of expensive clothes, Orion closed the distance between us and put a single palm on his door, preventing me from pulling it open. It also meant he had me caged in as I turned around to face him, brow arched.

“Oh?” I asked. “Do you need me to stay because you needed... a better look at me?"

Orion's eyes slid down my body inch by inch, making me feel completely naked before him. "It would be wise for both of us if I didn't..."

"No?" I asked sweetly. "What would happen? Maybe I would be more careful if I knew what was at risk..."

Orion swallowed, eyes blazing with heat as he stared up at me. "I don't get distracted by women, Ember. I don't—" He closed his mouth, took a deep breath. "I would rather not be tempted."

"Tempted to... what?" I prompted.

"Ember," he warned.

Now it was my turn to gulp as a bundle of nerves settled in my stomach. "I want to hear," I whispered. "I want to know what you want to do to me. Maybe we can't actually... do it. But I want to hear."

Orion touched his tie and seemed to drift closer until my space was completely consumed by him. With the way we were positioned, the door would block anybody’s view of what was going on inside his office. Maybe it would be suspicious that we were standing in one of the few, cramped spaces out of view, but at least we were hidden. Otherwise…

Orion lifted one knuckle and very slowly, very teasingly brought it from the center of my chest down my body, eyes following its trail as it brushed my breasts and instantly made my nipples go hard as diamonds. He kept dragging that knuckle down my belly and only paused at the waistband of my skirt.

Finally, his eyes lifted to mine. "If… If we could act on our impulses, then there are some things I would do to you.” Orion’s eyes lifted to mine, as if waiting for me to tell him to continue.

“Like what?” I whispered, senses laser focused on that lingering knuckle of his and what it was doing to me.

“I would enjoy watching you come and making you beg for more,” he said, each word punching into me like a warm gush of heat. “I would bring you to the edge with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. I wouldn't stop until you begged for my cock, and then... then maybe I'd give it to you, assuming you asked nicely enough."

I shuddered, knees feeling suddenly like they might give out. "Oh," I whispered. "That... is a vivid picture."

Orion's eyes never left mine. "Tonight... I'm going to send you an email."

I frowned. Okay. I guess we’re back to talking about work? “Alright,” I said, voice edged with confusion.

"When you receive the email, the contents will seem innocuous. But the moment you receive the email, I want you to touch yourself. I want you to think about this moment and what I just said to you. I want you to come for me tonight, and you will email me back as soon as you're finished. Have I made myself clear, Miss Hartwell?"

I bit my lower lip, nodding as I struggled to draw a normal breath. "Okay. I understand."

"Good girl," he said, lifting his thumb to briefly touch my chin. I saw the way his eyes lingered on my lips. "Now go back to work. We need to maintain professional boundaries."

"Right," I said shakily. How the hell was I supposed to work the rest of the day like this? I was so damned turned on I wanted to go to the nearest bathroom and get myself off, not wait until his little "email" came tonight. Was he planning to get himself off once he sent that email, too?

God. It was all so dirty, but so hot.

Sauntering back to my desk, I couldn't contain the giddy grin stretching my cheeks. This whole thing was certifiable, of course—a gargantuan HR clusterfuck waiting to happen.

But wow, was it fun to fan the flames with my beautiful, buttoned-up boss. To get under his starched collar and watch him come a little unraveled. Maybe I'd get burned in the end, but oh, what a way to go.

My stomach clenched as Cole's text from earlier flashed through my mind. He was digging into Davenport, and it was my fault. I'd handed him that lead like an idiot, thinking it was harmless. Guilt gnawed at me. I desperately hoped I hadn't already handed Cole something he could use to hurt Orion or the people who worked here.

Day by day, the idea of screwing things up for Orion seemed like more of a catastrophe I needed to avoid, and I wished I had just told Cole to stuff it and ran with the job opportunity here at Foster Real Estate.

I needed to find a way to come clean to Orion soon. But maybe for now, I could just do such a good job with the Davenport account that even Cole couldn’t screw things up for Orion and his company.

My phone buzzed with a text from Eleanor. It was a selfie of her beaming next to her latest feathered find, a ridiculous mallard in a Hawaiian shirt.

Eleanor: Meet Duck Norris!

Chuckling despite my churning conscience, I added Duck Norris' details to my spreadsheet. At least someone's ducks were all in a row. Mine, on the other hand, were scattered across a minefield of my own making.