Can't Touch: A Boss Romance

Hell, I don’t even need to talk to her to know how she’s feeling right now. She looks like a pin-up girl. A statement to me—and only me—that she wants more. That’s an outfit that wants more. My mind is suddenly filled with visions of her on my bed in nothing but those stockings and heels. Long, gorgeous legs thrown over my shoulders while I fuck her senseless.

I need to get her the hell out of here. Soon.

The next time I see her, she’s coming down the hall at a slower pace. And this time I don’t allow myself the pleasure of distraction while looking at her. I get up and immediately go to the door of my office. “Ms. Brack?”

She startles. I don’t think that I’ve ever called her that before, and I like the way she looks at me now.

“Yes, Mr. Canterbar?”

“Can I see you in my office for a second?”

She smiles. “Sure.”

I shut the glass door behind her, and as she passes I get caught in a whirling cloud of sweet perfume. Jasmine and orange. Spicy. All it does is spike my hunger for her.

“An interesting outfit to wear to the office,” I say.

“I thought so.” Chianna places her hands on the back of one of my chairs and leans into it just enough to draw my gaze south to that skirt.

I grin. “Whatever you had for breakfast is certainly working for you.” There’s a subtle confidence around her that I haven’t seen before. A sudden comfort in her skin.

“What I had was breakfast alone,” she says. “My uncle left town for a few days this morning.”

That freezes me, and I lift an eyebrow in question. “If that’s the case, then you and I can afford to be a little less careful?”

Chianna nods. “He’s left me with a long list of things to do, and there will be hell to pay if I don’t finish them, but yes.”

I practically roll my eyes. “The idea that you wouldn’t be able to finish everything that he throws at you is ridiculous.”

There’s a sparkle in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. “The list is already done.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Really. Why do you think I was moving so fast this morning?”

“If you have three days…why so fast?”

Chianna shrugs, but her eyes tell me there’s more to it. “To show him that I can. And if there’s anyone else here that actually wants to teach me something instead of having me make copies, then I’ll take advantage.”

“He has no idea what he has with you.”

“No.” She straightens and crosses her arms. “He doesn’t.”

I glance at the clock. “Can I take you to lunch? Since your schedule seems to be miraculously free?”

There’s that blush that I love so much. “I’d like that.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here.”

* * *

One of my favorite places for lunch is a little Italian place down the street from the office. It’s a hole in the wall, been there for a thousand years even as Manhattan built up around it kind of place. And in my opinion, you won’t find any better Italian food in the city.

But even the best Italian food in the world doesn’t compare to sitting across from Chianna like this. In the open, not worrying about prying eyes or work competition.

“I’m surprised that Meynard gave you the internship in the first place,” I say. “He’s such a tight-ass I would assume that nepotism is beneath him.”

Chianna rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised that he did too, but I think he felt bad for me. Or maybe he wants to try to use me as leverage when it comes to hiring. I honestly have no idea. But in six months it won’t matter.”

I frown. “Why six months? And why won’t it matter?”

“Because in six months I turn twenty-one,” she says, a delicious pink staining her cheeks that’s a mixture of the wine she’s drinking and the fact that she’s telling me her age.

“And you’re not bothered by the difference?”

“In our ages?” She drags her eyes down my chest and I sweat that they land on my cock even though the table is between us. “No, I’m not.”

“Good,” I say. She already told me that she’d done research on all the executives at the company, so she knows my age. Thirty-Seven. “So, what happens when you turn twenty-one?”

“My trust is released to me, and I don’t have to play by his rules anymore. And maybe he feels bad because he’s never really been that much of a stand-in as a parental figure. But that might be giving him too much credit.”

My stomach drops. “Your parents are gone?”

“Yeah.” For a second, she looks down and I’m afraid that I’ve stepped on a landmine. The loss of your parents never really goes away, no matter when it happens. “My dad was never around in the first place, and my mom passed when I was seventeen. Cancer.”