Dirty Obsession (Dirty 1)

He must have gotten his confidence back because he is strutting behind me as all the women ogle his body that I know they wish were more visible than what his clothes allow.

I sigh and walk back the five feet to where Asher is now getting swarmed with people asking for his autograph.

“Asher needs to come with me now. But I’ll make sure you all have plenty of time later to talk to him and get his autograph,” I say a little too sternly.

I grab hold of his hand again, feeling like a mother corralling a two-year-old, which, at the moment, makes me never want kids if it is anything like having to deal with Asher. We make it to the stairs, and I start taking them two at a time, despite my heels.

Even though I live in heels, my work requires me to be quick on my feet. I’m always putting out one fire or another. And I like interacting with the kids who live next door. They’ve been trying to better their lives after the abuse, neglect, and trouble they got into prevented them from reaching their full potential. I love seeing how resilient the kids are and how they are able to turn their lives around.

“I don’t know how you

do that in your heels,” Asher says when we make it up the stairs.

I smile at him. “Years of practice. I wasn’t always so good in heels. I know you won’t believe me, but for much of my childhood, I lived in tennis shoes and T-shirts. It wasn’t until my early twenties that I started wearing heels and dresses.”

“I would have never guessed, but then I’ve learned to never guess with you.”

I keep walking until I get to my office at the back of the building. It’s a small room. Not anywhere close to the largest office in the building. But I like it this way. I like having a small office that is just mine. It keeps other people from feeling like they can hang out when I have work to do. Plus, we have plenty of conference rooms that I can go to if I need to meet with more than one person. But there is one awesome benefit to my office that none of the other offices have.

“Holy shit! I thought your condo had a nice view, but this…” Asher says when he walks into my small office.

I take a deep breath, looking at the view. “It was the main reason I chose this building to house our offices.”

Asher walks over to the large window that my desk faces. It makes more sense for my desk to face away from the window, but there is no way I could have given up the view.

I take a seat at my desk and fire up my computer. I wait for the endless amount of emails that I get to start pouring in.

“So, what do you want me to do? Besides stare at this incredible view all day,” he says.

When I look up, he isn’t looking out at the ocean anymore. He is looking at me. I’m the incredible view he is talking about. I blush slightly but am not really that embarrassed.

I glance at my clock. “My mom is going to be here in half an hour. She’s excited to meet you. So, it would be great if you could take her to the café downstairs and just get a coffee or something with her.”

“Without you?”

I nod. “Most likely. I have a shit-ton of emails I need to answer. And then I need to go over and talk with some of the kids today. I’ve heard there are a couple who are struggling with the program, and I want to go see to them personally.”

His eyes are wide as he looks at me.

“You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t do parents.”

I laugh. “Well, my mother isn’t really a parent. Technically, I lived with her when I was growing up, but I wouldn’t call her a parent. I usually refer to her as Catherine anyway instead of Mother. Especially when I’m at work. So, I really don’t care if you impress her or not. Just keep her out of my hair and keep her from drinking anything alcoholic—at least until after lunch.”

He sighs. “Fine. But you owe me the dirtiest sex ever on your desk or pressed up against this window after this.”

“Well, at least wait until I’m gone for that. Although I would be happy to take you up on that offer if my daughter doesn’t,” Catherine, my mother, says.

I frown and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I get up.

Asher, on the other hand, doesn’t bother to apologize for his words, which is one of the things I like about him. He doesn’t apologize unless he feels he is actually in the wrong, and it turns out, that isn’t very often.

I give my mother a quick hug, like I actually love her and am happy that she is here.

“This is Asher, my husband,” I say.

Asher finally stands and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Catherine. I haven’t heard much about you, but I’d love it if you would catch me up over some coffee.”