Bad Boss Read online

  Perhaps it was because she was Damian’s sister and I felt an obligation to her. He’d asked me to give her a job a few years ago, also asking me to look after her, and I’d initially refused since I ran a company, not a babysitting service. But Damian had argued that I needed someone to help me when dealing with people and that Morgan was very good at dealing with people.

  He hadn’t been wrong. She was good. Good enough that I simply couldn’t do without her.

  ‘You could pretend,’ she said.

  ‘What would be the point?’ I took her chin between my fingers, holding her securely.

  She went very still. ‘What are you doing?’

  I examined her face once more, but there were no signs of fear, only some other expression that I couldn’t identify. Her pupils had dilated and I could hear her breath catch.

  Her skin was very warm and very soft against my fingertips, a sensual pleasure I hadn’t expected.

  ‘I thought I’d give you some proof that I’m as good in bed as I said I was,’ I said, a trifle irritated at having to explain. ‘It’s logical to try something out before you commit yourself.’

  She blinked, her mouth gone very soft. It was red and it made me feel hungry all of a sudden, as if I wanted to take a bite out of it.

  Careful. Be very careful.

  I’d have to be. Some women had no problem with my particular desires, a lot even shared them, but I had a sense it would be different with Morgan. It was true that she was my employee, and having sexual relations with an employee wasn’t looked on with approval these days. But if both parties agreed, what was the issue?

  Still, Morgan had brought it up, which made it an issue for her, and anything that was an issue for her was also an issue for me.

  She blinked again. ‘I didn’t realise you were going to offer proof right now. Especially when I haven’t said that I actually want to have sex with you.’

  I frowned. ‘Your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are flushed. Your pulse is also very fast. All of which indicates a certain level of sexual arousal.’ Moving my thumb experimentally, I stroked the line of her lower lip, testing the softness of it and watching her reaction. If I wasn’t much mistaken, that little sound had been her breath catching again. ‘Yes, you like me touching you, I think.’

  ‘Ulysses...’ Her voice sounded husky and the flush in her cheeks had deepened. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea.’

  ‘Why not?’ Again, I stared at the little mole to the side of her upper lip. It was dark against her pale skin, an almost perfect circle.

  ‘Because you’re my boss.’

  ‘You’ve said that before and I fail to see the relevance.’

  ‘A date first.’ She sounded breathless. ‘That’s what I said. A date first before the sex.’

  She smelled of jasmine. I wasn’t sure if it was her perfume, her soap or what, but I liked it. It was sweet and I’d always had a fondness for sweet things.

  ‘What does it matter whether the date comes before the sex?’ I didn’t like dates, mainly because they consisted of pointless small talk, and I couldn’t do small talk. Sex was much easier for me. I rubbed my thumb over her bottom lip again, feeling her shiver beneath my hand. ‘I can’t promise that I’ll be an entertaining date, but I can promise that you’ll climax many times in my bed.’

  I didn’t think it was possible for her face to get any redder, or for her eyes to get even wider, but it seemed it was entirely possible.

  How interesting. I’d never flustered Morgan Blackwood before. She got impatient with me, and sometimes angry, but I’d never made her eyes go smoky the way they were now. I’d never made her blush. And I wasn’t sure why that made me feel good, when it had never occurred to me to fluster her before, but it did.

  ‘Ulysses,’ she said again.

  But I was tired of arguing. ‘I’m going to kiss you,’ I said. ‘Do you agree?’ I always asked. I had to be careful with emotional cues, as I tended to miss them, and since a woman’s climax was dependent on her enjoying the sexual interaction I always made sure she was a willing participant.

  Morgan was trembling slightly. ‘I...don’t know.’

  ‘Why don’t you know?’

  ‘Because...this is very sudden.’ Her gaze dropped to my mouth and it made my cock harden.

  It was an intriguing sensation. I’d never considered Morgan as a sex partner, mainly because of my association with her brother and his request that I look after her. Also, it had never occurred to me. Sex I could get from any woman, so why would I complicate matters by getting it from her?

  Yet now I was considering doing just that, and it was an interesting prospect. What would she be like in bed? Would her body go pink and would she writhe beneath me? What would her climax look like? Would she scream, like some women did, or would she bury her face in the pillow? Or would she be silent, closing her eyes and panting as it washed over her? Would she like to be held down—a personal fantasy of mine—or would she struggle against my hold? Would she find being restrained a turn-on?

  ‘Your body doesn’t seem to find it sudden,’ I pointed out.

  ‘No, but my head needs to catch up.’ She took a breath. ‘You do understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I paused. ‘Do you need a seduction?’ Some women did before they felt they could participate. ‘Or would you prefer me just to take the kiss without asking?’ Again, something else that some women liked.

  Her pupils dilated even further. ‘I...beg your pardon?’

  Was that a fear response? I couldn’t tell. Further testing seemed to be required.

  ‘I could force you into a kiss,’ I explained, watching her face carefully. ‘Some women enjoy it. They find it adds excitement.’

  She was trembling harder now, the pulse at the base of her throat even faster. Her eyes were very dark, only a sliver of blue showing around the inky black of her pupils. ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice was slightly thicker this time, her gaze dropping once more to my mouth. ‘I don’t know what I like.’

  Interesting. Well, she might not know what she liked, but I’d given her the opportunity to say no and she hadn’t said it. And, given how she was looking at my mouth, it seemed clear that she wasn’t averse to the idea of kissing it.

  So I tightened my grip on her chin. ‘Let’s find out, then,’ I said. And I bent my head and covered her lips with mine.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Morgan

  I DIDN’T KNOW what was happening. One minute I’d been complaining about Ulysses not approving my leave request, the next we were talking about sex, closely followed by him getting in my face, taking my chin in one large, capable hand and insisting on giving me proof of his bedroom skills.

  And I hadn’t pushed him away. I hadn’t even said no.

  I’d just stood there and let it happen as he’d bent his head and kissed me.

  If I’d ever imagined Ulysses’s kiss—and believe me, I hadn’t—I’d have imagined it as cold and as passionless as his icy black eyes.

  I was wrong.

  His mouth was firm and not cold in the slightest. In fact, it was warm, so very, very warm. And there was a gentleness to the kiss that I hadn’t expected, his lips brushing over mine, lightly testing.

  A shudder worked its way down my spine and my lungs felt empty of air. All my awareness zeroed in on his mouth and how it felt on mine, and how very different it was from any other kisses I’d experienced in my life.

  Not that I’d experienced very many. I’d gone to an exclusive girls’ school back in Australia, where I’d grown up, and had always been conscious that Damian had worked very hard to send me there. I hadn’t wanted to squander the educational opportunity by messing around, like some of my friends had.

  Once I’d left school, I’d gone straight to London and had ended up working for Ulysses, and the long hours had prett
y much cemented my status as a virgin. Until a few years later, when I’d decided I’d had enough and had used a dating app to finally get rid of my bloody hymen.

  The experience had been dull and kind of awful so I hadn’t been in any hurry to repeat it, happy to remain boyfriend-less for the next few years. Until Damian had got married. Until I’d realised that I was lonely and didn’t want to be lonely any more.

  Until bloody Ulysses White had kissed me.

  It wasn’t like the one time with that guy—I couldn’t even remember his name... Brian Someone-or-other—whose kiss had been tentative, hesitant and awkward. I hadn’t wanted any of those things. I’d wanted passion and intensity. I’d wanted to be gripped and held tight, and kissed as if he couldn’t get enough of me. As if he was desperate for a taste.

  Ulysses’s grip tightened on my chin, holding me with exactly the right kind of firmness, taking control effortlessly and with a practised mastery that left me shaking. He touched his tongue to my bottom lip, tasting, coaxing, and I found myself opening up to him, letting him inside.

  It was wrong to let him kiss me like this, to let him take it from me without asking. But he’d asked me what I’d liked and I’d told him I didn’t know.

  I was a liar. I did know. I just hadn’t wanted to say—not when the last time I’d voiced my fantasies it had turned out badly. Yet somehow he’d known anyway, kissing me exactly the way I wanted him to.

  The kiss deepened and I nearly moaned. His mouth was hot and he tasted spicy and rich, like a good, smoky whiskey.

  My hands lifted to his chest, my fingers curling in the crisp cotton of his shirt. There was an ache inside me, a pulsing pressure between my thighs, and I had no idea why, since I’d never felt anything like this around him before. Never, ever.

  His tongue stroked deep inside my mouth, and my head fell back, allowing him to kiss me deeper. I shut my eyes, his sensual flavour unravelling every expectation I had, coaxing me to respond, to kiss him back.

  But I wanted more. Wanted harder. Rougher. To be shoved back against that desk, his mouth taking and taking...

  Are you out of your goddamn mind?

  My fantasy came to a screaming halt, realisation hitting me like a bucket of cold water. My boss of nearly eight years was kissing me in the middle of the day, in the middle of his office, because he wanted to give me proof that he was good in bed.

  Because he’d offered to have sex with me.

  And I was letting him.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I went to push him away, but he was already doing it, letting go of my chin and stepping back. And my body was so behind my brain that I almost followed him, almost kept hold of his shirt to keep that masterful mouth on mine.

  He frowned, then smoothed his shirt where I’d been holding it. ‘Well?’ His voice was its usual cold self, as if he hadn’t just kissed me silly. ‘Is that proof enough for you?’

  I surreptitiously braced myself on the table behind me, my knees weak. ‘Proof enough?’ I echoed, my thought processes sluggish. ‘What?’

  His expression turned impatient. ‘Proof enough that I know what I’m doing when it comes to sex.’

  I tried to kick-start my stupid brain. Yes, that was why he’d kissed me. Because of what I’d said about a holiday. About meeting someone and dating and... Shit. Getting laid.

  What had possessed me to say that? What had possessed me to stand there and let him kiss me?

  You liked the kiss, though.

  I shivered, trying to ignore how hot and sensitised my mouth felt and how his rich, spicy flavour lingered on my tongue. Trying to ignore how much I’d liked the firm way he’d held me and the confident mastery of the kiss.

  Because, even if I’d liked it, I couldn’t let anything more happen. He was my boss and, no matter what he said, sleeping with him would complicate matters. If I was going to meet a man, it had to be one who was not related to my working life in any way.

  I leaned against the table, annoyed that I was the one getting all weak-kneed while he stood there in his usual way, as if nothing touched him.

  I knew Ulysses did actually have feelings. He was highly uncomfortable in social situations, and when he was uncomfortable he got agitated and angry. Just as when he was involved in a project that consumed his attention, he’d sometimes hum under his breath, which meant he was happy. Or at least content.

  But he didn’t look angry now, and he wasn’t humming, and that meant he didn’t feel anything. It bothered me. Almost as if I wanted him to be as affected by that kiss as I’d been, which was ridiculous.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded, impatient with my silence.

  ‘It was a...very effective demonstration,’ I said, clearing my throat.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed with his customary self-confidence. ‘Of course it was.’

  ‘But I’m still going to have to decline. I can’t have sex with you, Ulysses.’

  His frown became ferocious. He wasn’t often thwarted, got irritated when he was, and he clearly was now. ‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘You were very aroused by that kiss, I could tell.’

  I could feel my cheeks get hot again. ‘You’re still my boss.’

  ‘So? I understand that complicates things for you, but it wouldn’t complicate anything at all for me.’

  I tried not to sigh. ‘That’s kind of the point. I don’t want to go to bed with someone who doesn’t really want me.’

  His frown became a scowl, his black eyes focusing on me intently. ‘You think I’m not sexually aroused by you?’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘Give me your hand.’ He held out his commandingly.

  I swallowed, having a good idea of where this was going. ‘Ulysses...’

  ‘Give me your hand.’

  I extended my hand and, sure enough, he brought my palm down over the fly of his trousers. The wool was warm and smooth, and I expected to feel nothing but distaste for the hard ridge I could feel there. Yet instead of distaste electricity whispered over my skin. He was hotter than I’d expected, and so much harder. Long and thick...

  Awareness filtered through me that it was his cock I had my hand on, and that there was no doubting the fact that he was hard. Very, very hard.

  He might only have offered to sleep with me for the sake of my so-called productivity, but his body wanted me. Sure, he might have got hard for any random woman, but here, right now, that random woman was me.

  And you like that. You like that a lot.

  He was a powerful man, the head of a multi-billion-dollar company. He snapped his fingers and the stock markets fell or rose, depending on what he was doing. CEOs of other major companies rushed to do his bidding. He probably owned half of London.

  And yet I, a little nobody from Sydney, Australia, held him in the palm of my hand.

  ‘You see?’ His obsidian eyes glittered. ‘I’m hard for you.’

  I wanted to pull my hand away and have him press his down on mine, holding it there. But that would mean giving in to those very wrong urges, so I left my hand where it was. Not that it was a bad place for it to be. The hard line of his cock burned against my palm and, inexplicably, I wanted to close my hand around it, see what he’d do if I did.

  You know what he’d do.

  A shiver ghosted along my skin, raising goose bumps. Yes, I did know. He wouldn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t be shy. He’d lift me up on this table and he’d push me down and I...

  Crap. Stop. I wasn’t going there with Ulysses, and certainly not with that particular fantasy.

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with me,’ I said coolly, finally dropping my hand from him. ‘That’s only because I happen to be female.’

  ‘Of course it’s got something to do with you.’ He sounded irritated. ‘I wouldn’t have kissed you if you were male, because I’m straight.’

  Litera
l. Always so literal.

  ‘What I mean is that you’re not attracted to me in particular,’ I pointed out, trying to be patient.

  ‘No.’ Ulysses’s stare was unrelenting. ‘It’s true that I wasn’t attracted to you before. But I am now.’

  ‘What? Just like that?’

  ‘Yes.’ His gaze roved over me. ‘Do you want me to kiss you again? Or perhaps I shouldn’t ask. You liked it when I did that just before.’

  My mouth had gone dry. He was only this intense when he was focused on a particular project, and only when he was really interested in it. He’d never looked at me that way before, and I couldn’t understand why I liked it. And I did like it. I really liked it.

  Because no one has ever looked at you that way before.

  It was true. Not even my single, solitary date. He hadn’t looked at me as if I’d been fascinating, and he definitely hadn’t taken a kiss from me. He hadn’t taken hold of me at all, and when he’d touched me it had been hesitant. So I’d asked—awkwardly—if he could hold me tighter, kiss me harder, perhaps even hold me down. He’d been horrified, looking at me as if I’d been crazy, so I’d never mentioned it again. To anyone.

  But I hadn’t even had to ask Ulysses. He’d simply taken that kiss the way I’d secretly longed a man do, and his grip on my chin had been perfect. And I’d had the sense that I could have pushed against his hard chest and he wouldn’t have moved. Wouldn’t have let me go...

  My breathing ramped up, the thought of him grabbing me and kissing me again exciting, though along with the excitement came a sense of shame. My one-night-stand had made me feel bad about what I’d wanted and part of me had agreed with him. Because, seriously, what woman got excited about the thought of being held down? Of struggling against a man far stronger and more powerful than she was? Of not being able to escape?