16.

Alex

A week goes by, and then another. It's the night before payday when Beatrice comes home with a date for the evening. I'm sitting in the living room eating a bowl of cheap ramen when she bursts in.

"Oh," she says. "I didn't know you were home." As though I'd be anywhere else. I can't afford to go out anywhere, but I understand the way that dates work, and I'm willing to make a few sacrifices for my roomie. After all, she's been there for me this entire time.

make my way back to my bedroom. It's the one place I can be alone. I grab my stuffed animal and pull it to my chest, hugging it tightly. Then I reach for the picture of my family that I keep on the nightstand. It's so weird that I do this.

Only, I miss them.

I miss the way my mom and dad and Aaron and I felt like a family.

I miss the way we all loved each other.

Our world seemed to be so perfect for such a long time. I will never forget the way that we all seemed to get along. Everything we did together just felt right. I remember movie nights and hanging out in the park. Dad would take us on walks. He'd always let me sit on his shoulders, and I miss that.

I miss so very much.

"What happens next?" I whisper to myself in the darkened room. I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing next. I don't know where this goes. Where do I go from here?

One day soon, everything will be okay. I know that.

I hear Beatrice and her boyfriend out in the living room, so I start playing on my phone. I should watch a movie or do something to distract myself, but instead of pulling up Netflix, I start scrolling Instagram. Ryan's profile is public, and it mostly features pictures of him in professional settings. The profile is very carefully curated. I won't be shocked if Damien runs it.

Although, there's one series of pictures of him and his brothers that really catches my eye. The three of them are standing side-by-side, arms around each other. They're all wearing suits. There's a second picture behind the first of their father. I read the caption and realize that this is from their dad's funeral. It's strange to think of rich dudes posting on social media, but it's the modern year. It's not like we're living in the Stone Age when you could only talk to people by, you know, seeing them face-to-face.

My finger slips and I heart the post.

Shit.

I quickly press the heart again, removing my "like." Hopefully, Ryan isn't on his phone right now to see my social mess-up. He doesn't need to know that I'm a complete weirdo who can't control her social media scrolling. He'll get to know me soon enough without me causing any trouble like that.

Only, I'm not so lucky.

Almost immediately, I get a text from an unknown number.

So you like what you see. Interesting.

I know it's him. I just know it. It's a local area code. Besides, it would make sense that he would have my phone number. I'm his assistant, after all. Maybe it's weird that I don't have his, but we always just message each other online.

There's never really been a need for me to have his private number, although now I'm wondering why I never saw the need to push for it.

Another text comes through.

Aw. Unliked. Am I that hideous?

I reply before I can talk myself out of it.

Sorry.Misclick.

It's so lame. I shouldn't have sent something so silly, but I can't take it back even though I want to.

I stare at my phone and a second later, another message appears.

Which time was the misclick? When you liked me in a suit or when you didn't?

I sigh. He's so damn hot. I kind of hate the visceral reaction my body has to him.

I tell myself it's okay even though it's not. I'm not supposed to like my boss. I'm not supposed to feel like this about him.

I type a response and delete it. Then I do the same thing again. Finally, I decide to say anything at all. Being awkward is so much better than being silent.

Which would you prefer?

I click send before I can think too hard. This is my new strategy: not thinking. I don't have any misled understanding that I'm cool or suave or good with men. I'm just normal. I'm just some random girl who happens to be awake and alone, so it would make sense that Ryan would text me.

I wait, wondering what Ryan is going to say, but a moment later, he Facetimes me. I stare at the phone, wondering what to do. I'm wearing a pink tanktop, booty shorts, and slippers. That's it.

No bra.

No panties.

No makeup.

This is just me in my pajama glory.

I shouldn't answer. I don't want to. It's a dangerous game. What if I answer the phone and he's also only wearing pajamas? Am I really ready for that? I wait so long to answer that I miss the call.

I breathe a sigh of relief and push myself back against the wall. I'm sitting on my bed, hanging out with my plushies. I don't need to be video chatting with a guy I don't have a chance with.

Only, he calls again, and I realize that I do have a chance.

I have every chance.

And when was the last time I let myself have anything nice?

This time, I answer.

"I thought you were feeling shy," Ryan says. His face comes into view. He's not wearing a shirt. He's sitting on his couch, I think. He looks comfortable. Relaxed. He's so different now than he is in the office. There, he's all business, all the time.

Well, except for the moments where he's kissing me.

Except for the moments where he'd teasing me.

"I'm not shy," I say.

"You could have fooled me."

"Is that why you called? To insult me?"

"I called to play with you."

I don't know what this means, but somehow, it feels dangerous. Delightful. Good.

"What do you mean?" Suddenly, my whole body feels hot.

"What do you want me to mean?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Do you always wear so many clothes to bed?"

"I'm not wearing that many clothes," I say. I speak a little too hastily. He laughs darkly. Yeah, he knows what's happening between us. This thing right now is a dance. It's delightful and dirty and naughty. It's wonderful and fantastic and everything I want it to be.

I'm desperate, craving his touch, and I know he's not anywhere close.

Where is he now? I try to get a peek at what his house looks like, as though that would give me any clue.

"You're wearing a lot."

"How did you get my number, anyway?"

"I'm your boss."

"Doesn't HR protect phone numbers?"

"I'm very wealthy, Alex," he says. When Ryan says my name, it sounds like a purr...like a promise. I don't know what he's promising, exactly, but I'm here for it.

"And you just happened to have my phone number this evening?"

"I had it in my phone."

"It kind of seems like you were waiting for an excuse to text me," I say. I'm being more bold than I usually am with men.

"That's true."

I stop.

It's true?

He wanted to text me.

Shit.

What do I do now?

"Why did you want to text me?" I try to sound as sultry as possible, but I kind of just sound weird.

"Why do you work for me?"

"I need money?" I'm not sure why it comes out as a question.

"You could have chosen anywhere, though."

"Spoken by someone who hasn't looked for a job in years." I try not to sound nervous and uncomfortable, but I am, and I do.

"Is that what's going on?"

"What?"

"You just needed a job, so you chose anything?"

"Kind of. Does that...bother you?"

He pauses. For a second, I think he's going to say that it does, but instead, he just seems to let it go. For some reason, Ryan is being very chill right now. This is strange because I'm starting to think he's completely naked.

"No. I mean, I'd like to think you came to work for me because you're passionate about my company."

"I'm passionate about money."

He laughs.

"Yeah, me too."

"Are you, though? I thought you kind of were forced into your job."

It's a personal question: one I shouldn't be asking. I can't seem to bite my tongue, though. For some reason, casually Facetiming Ryan Shadowvale like we're a couple of teenagers who can't get enough of each other feels...comfortable.

"Something like that."

"Let me guess: it's complicated."

"Families always are."

"You don't talk much about yours."

"There's not much to say." Because I no longer have a family. This knowledge hurts me deeply. I don't really want to be the person who doesn't get to do the things she so desperately wants – like having a Christmas dinner with her family or going on shared vacations. I am, though. That's who I am. I'm the person who doesn't have a mother or a father or anyone at all.

I have a brother, somewhere, but who knows how long it's going to take me to find him?

"Not close, huh?"

"You could say that."

"Are they dead?" He blurts out the question, and then he falls silent. I'm starting to think he doesn't really know what he's asking. Maybe he didn't mean to ask me. I'm not really sure how to answer.

"No one has ever asked me such a blunt question," I admit.

"I'm not shy."

"I'm aware."

"So?"

"You know, if this is your move, you need some work. No wonder you're single."

That makes him laugh.

"There are many reasons that I'm single."

"Such as?"

"I'm far too handsome."

"Ah."

"And I'm far too busy."

"That's believable," I admit. "I've seen your calendar." It's a nightmare web of meeting after meeting and consulting call after consulting call. He has to go talk to investors and talk to his board and do all of these different things I don't know anything about.

It's a mess, truly.

"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing I have you around."

"You don't miss Damien?"

"I do, a little, although I have to admit you're much more fun to have alone in my office."

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks. It's perfectly visible in the camera of my phone, so I know he sees. He smirks. Yeah, he knows he's got me.

"You and Damien?

"What about us?"

"Have you ever...you know?"

"No."

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"Why?" Ryan smirks. "Are you jealous?"

"Maybe." I blurt out the word. Once again. I say this without thinking. How many more times am I going to be saying things without actually thinking them through? I'm slightly tired of my new inability to hold back, but Ryan doesn't seem to mind. He laughs.

"I like this side of you."

"The crazy ex-girlfriend jealous bitch side?"

"The future girlfriend jealous bitch side," he corrects. Then he's the one who seems surprised.

Okay, he didn't mean to insinuate that we might date one day. That's fine. It's interesting, though, that he thinks of me in a future tense.

"What do you want to do with me?"

"On a date?"

"In bed," I ask.

"Why, Alex, are you insinuating that you and your boss might be falling into bed together?"

"I think we both want it."

"There are things you don't know about me, Alex. There are things that might change your mind about me."

"I don't care," I say. And I don't. There are skeletons in my closet, but most of them surround my brother's disappearance and the loss I feel from his absence. Most of my skeletons don't involve large amounts of money or copious business scandals. Those are the things I assume Alex is talking about, since those are the things he deals with on a daily basis.

"You might," he says.

"Well, then, try me." I jut my chin out. It's a habit I developed as a kid. Back when I was standing up to my stepdad to protect Aaron, I'd always do this. It always pissed him off more than he would admit. Even my mom didn't know just how much my stepfather hated me jutting my chin forward. It was a nonverbal sign of defiance, and we both knew it.

"I'm broken," he says softly.

"I don't think you're as broken as you say."

And for some reason, I have the feeling this isn't something that Ryan often shares. I get the feeling he's a little surprised he's sharing this with me now.

"Maybe, but there are a lot of things that make me a poor choice for a partner."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not looking for a partner," I say. "I'm just looking for a good time."

This is both true and false. I do want someone I can fall in love with. Everyone does. I want the person I can grow old with. I want someone who knows everything about me but loves me anyway. I know there are plenty of things about me that are unsavory. I'm too clumsy, I'm obsessed with books, and I don't get out on a social level very much.

But right now, I don't really want to worry about that. I'm more concerned with whether Ryan is going to lower his camera and let me see what else he's hiding.

What does he have down there?

Abs?

Boxers?

Nothing at all?

Is he completely naked while he's talking to me?

"Is that so?" Ryan smirks a little, and I find myself nodding.

"That's so."

"You're asking me for a good time."

"No strings attached," I say.

"It could be a bad idea."

"Maybe. It probably is."

"Why don't you care? If this goes sour, work will be very awkward."

Luckily for Ryan, he's only hired me on a temporary basis. This is supposed to be a job that lasts until Damien returns with the potential for a longer-term role, but that's just something corporations say. I'm still applying to other places and trying to find a job as a teacher. One day, I want to make a difference in the world. I just need someone to give me a chance.

"Then it's a good thing I'm only a temp employee," I say. "Now tell me: are you naked?"

He seems surprised by this turn of events. I do not consider myself a top in any sense of the word, but I am a little bossy in bed. Even submissives can be bossy, I know, and that's what's happening now.

"What a forward question."

"One you're avoiding, I notice."

Instead of saying anything else, Ryan lowers his phone camera so I can see, and holy shit.

He's fucking gorgeous.

Toned, defined abs lead down to a gorgeous fucking dick that's hard. His hand is wrapped around it, and he's stroking up and down. I'm not sure what I expected, but shaved balls and an erect dick is not it. I thought he'd be more coy than this. I kind of love that he's not.

"What are you doing?" I whisper. My mouth has gone dry.

"I can't help it. You just get me fucking hard." He moves the phone so the camera is once more pointed at his face, and I feel like I'm going to melt. He's going to come tonight, I realize. We both are. For some reason, this is the exact moment I realize I'm about to give my boss everything , and I'm okay with that.

I hear Beatrice and her date laughing from the living room, but I don't care. Instead, I set my phone down at the foot of my bed and scurry back to the head. He can see all of me now as I sit crisscross in front of the camera.

"There you go," he says. "Look at you. Is that what you always wear to bed?"

"No," I admit. "I usually sleep naked."

"Don't be shy," he says. "Show me."

For some reason, that phrase just gets me.

Don't be shy.

I don't want to be shy. I want to give him everything I have and everything I am. I want Ryan to be thinking about me all damn day. I want him to come to work unable to keep his eyes off of me because he'll know exactly what's happening underneath my clothes.

"Okay," I whisper. Warning bells are going off in my head, but I ignore them. Good decisions can wait for another day. Instead, I slowly raise up my tank and toss it to the floor. I have my breasts covered, but a second later, I drop my hands. His eyes widen. Okay, he likes what he sees.

As if there was any doubt.

"Fucking gorgeous," he murmurs. I can no longer see his dick, but I see the edge of his shoulder moving, and I know he's touching himself to me. I also know that I'm wetter than I've been in a long damn time. Not since that make out session, which left me breathless and wet and wanting.

I kind of hate that it ended so damn soon.

Here's our second chance, though.

"Show me more," he says. "Impress me, Alex. Show me how good you can be."

Maybe it's because I have daddy issues, or perhaps it's just because I love praise, but that type of positive dirty talk just gets me going, and I find myself wanting to both obey and tease Ryan.

Instead of pulling off my shorts right away, I kneel on my bed. The way my phone is angled means he can see all of me. I kind of wish he'd prop his phone up, too, so I can see more of him.

I can ask, I realize. I need to get better about asking for what I want.

"Let me see you first," I insist. "Prop your phone up, Ryan. Give me a show."

He chuckles, but he does as I ask. Once he's settled back in his chair, I can see all of him. He's sitting in a recliner or armchair of some kind, totally naked, legs spread. The camera gives me a perfect view of everything he's got to offer: dick, balls, muscular thighs. I picture myself climbing him, setting down on his lap, and just taking his cock.

"How do you like this, princess?"

Fuck.

Me.

Silly.

He has no idea what his words are doing to me, but he gave me want I wanted, so I can do the same for him. I spread my knees, still kneeling on the bed, and start to rub myself over my shorts. He sucks in a breath, and I know I have his full attention right now.

More.

I want more.

"I like it," I say.

"You look like you need a cock in you," he tells me.

"I do."

He rubs harder, faster, and I do the same. I'm edging myself so close to orgasm that it's insane. I don't usually come fast. It takes me a little while to warm up. Right now, though, I'm so excited with this mix of sexuality and danger and bad decisions that I know it's going to be soon.

"Let me see more of you," he says.

I kneel up on the bed. He can see from my breasts down, and his eyes are glued to me. Slowly, I hook my thumbs under the booty shorts and push them all the way down to my knees. Then I wiggle out of them and return to sitting cross-legged on the bed. Once again, I start rubbing my pussy as I look at Ryan. He's breathing heavily. He likes this.

I like it, too.

"So fucking pretty," he says. "And you're shaved."

"I am."

"Did you do that for me?"

I flush. Yeah, actually. After we made out, I realized that I really wanted him to see me naked, and I wanted him to put his hands on me, his mouth on me, and his cock inside of me. I spent some time doing a lot of waxing and shaving and self-care, and I'm pleased with the results. I'm glad he is, too.

"Maybe."

"Tell me." He groans, and I realize he's close. He wants to hear me say it. He wants me to tell him that I was in the shower shaving just for him.

"You want to hear about me shaving my pussy in case you saw it?"

"Yes."

"That's what I did, Ryan. I took a long, hot shower and used soap I thought you'd like. Vanilla. Then I played with my pussy a little and came, of course, thinking about what you'd do the first time you saw me naked. That was when I shaved, making sure to get every inch of hair. I want your tongue on me. I want your dick inside of me."

He can't hold back. I see the exact moment he loses control, and something strange happens.

I lose control, too.

Despite being in different locations, we both come together. I groan through my release. I'm trying so damn hard to be quiet, but I know that I'm failing. I don't really consider myself to be a loud person in bed, but I lose it as I come. The orgasm washes over me, and then we both fall silent. I stare at the phone, looking at Ryan. He's still sitting there, covered in his own cum, and it's the hottest thing I've ever seen.

Then I hear a voice loudly proclaim from the living room, "Shit. Was that your roommate? I didn't know she had a guy over."

Beatrice's voice follows. "She doesn't."

She's so loud that Ryan can hear, and he laughs.