Hell, having her in here standing within three feet of my bed was a bad idea. When I’d come into that doorway, the first thing I wanted to do was push her down on the bed and pin her underneath me.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I finished my business and washed my hands, making sure to splash some cold water on my face. It would have to do instead of a cold shower. It had been two weeks since I’d decided to abstain from sex, and it was not proving to be easy. Especially with a little sexpot intern as my captive for the night.
It was an idiotic decision to force her to stay, but how the hell could I let her to go out looking like that? She’d have to beat the fuckers off with a stick, and as long as I had any control over it, that was not happening. As long as I was her boss, I did have control over it.
If I couldn’t have her, no one could. At least while she worked for me. If I had to suffer from lack of getting any, so would she. After all, this was her mess to begin with. Accident or not.
And honestly, who the fuck uploads a recording without realizing it? She could have hit a share button while she was drunk, but she’d find that on her profile later—unless it was on a platform that didn’t tolerate indecent material. Then it could have been deleted by the provider.
But content like that spread faster than a STD at a frat party.
I frowned, drying my hands. Whether or not she meant to upload the video remained to be seen, but she deserved the deprivation for all the trouble it had caused. And I was just the one to inflict the punishment. I looked at myself in the mirror. Adam was right—I was a rat bastard.
Minutes later, with certain body parts now completely under my control—for the moment, anyway—I settled back on the couch in the living room.
She was standing at the sliding glass door, watching the sunset, and I kept my eyes away from that alluring backside by snatching up my forms and gathering them on a clipboard. I looked up when she turned and walked toward me, still teetering on those ridiculously high heels that made her legs look spectacular. Eyes averted, Fawkes—goddammit!
“Those shoes can’t be comfortable. Take them off.”
She slipped into the chair beside the couch. “I don’t want to take them off.” She flicked a glance at me, as if testing my reaction. Then, to emphasize the point, she crossed her ankles and wiggled the foot on top. Oh, so it was going to be like that, was it?
“I insist.”
Her brows rose. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be disappointed. The shoes stay on. All night.”
All night. She was sending me a crystal clear message. She didn’t trust me…like somehow keeping her shoes on would protect her from my degenerate inclinations. But I knew damn well that Snow White wasn’t as pure as her nickname might imply. Underneath that cool reserve she showed everyone, there was a she-devil waiting to be let loose again—with my lips, my hands, my tongue.
If only I could make that happen again. I sighed, shifting, frustrated with myself. “I need you to look some shit up for me on Google.”
Her dark brows twitched, and she picked up the laptop then opened it. It immediately came alive with the login music to Dragon Epoch. I’d left the program open again.
When she realized what it was, she laughed. “Taking your work home with you in a very literal way, I see…I didn’t realize you play Dragon Epoch.”
I leaned back, unable to tear my eyes away from that wiggling foot. “Of course I do. First rule of business, Weiss. Know your product. Know what it can do. Know about the people who use your product.”
Her mouth twisted. “Comic-Con nerds and pimply geek boys.”
I shook my head, laughing. “Maybe in the eighties that was the case, but with our game, nearly half of the players are female. And they are of all ages, too. We have players in their tweens, teens, all the way up to retirement age. There are young married couples who can’t afford to get out, so they play the game for entertainment and to spend time together. College kids with too much time on their hands, even entire families who play with their kids or family who live long distances away.”
“Wow. And…and all the officers play?”
“Yes. Why not? It’s a fun game. You should try it before you knock it, Weiss. Like I said, know your product. Didn’t you ever log into your trial account we give the interns?”
A slow stain of color crept across her face. “Umm. I may have…misplaced that login code somewhere. I have to confess…” Her voice trailed off and then she shrugged.
My eyes darted from her cleavage down her shapely legs, back to that goddamn wiggling foot. “You’re full of things to confess. What is it this time?”