because he’d wanted to get laid and the intriguing woman in the leather underwear had seemed up for it.
It wasn’t until they’d done the deed that the truth had detonated. The moment he’d heard her say, ‘I really need to get this tidied up now,’ he’d known.
Charlotte had used that same phrase many times over the last few weeks when he’d assigned her tasks. Usually in reference to cleaning up work, where she had to deal with the mess left by the old manager.
When it came to work, she’d always been agreeable. It was only when he tried to be friendly, to get to know her better, that she became abrupt and shut him down.
I really need to get this tidied up now.
Fuck. He’d been struck dumb when he’d realised he’d slept with an employee. That was when he’d taken a closer look and realised that without the uptight hairdo and the glasses, she had the same eyes. A captivating slate grey that held secrets.
Like the fact she could masquerade as a vixen after hours once she shed her librarian persona.
He should have trusted his gut that she looked vaguely familiar, should have taken a closer look at her face. Unfortunately, he’d taken one look at her lithe body and lost it. Not because she was a bombshell—she had small, pert breasts thrust heavenward by that saucy bustier, a trim waist, slim legs and an ass that fitted in his hands nicely.
No, he’d lost it because he’d seen something in her eyes...a wistful yearning, a war waged between boldness and fear, like she wanted to jump him but didn’t know how.
It had captured his interest like nothing else.
After he’d realised her true identity, he hadn’t been able to get over the startling contrast between the woman he’d imagined and the woman who’d made him hard by fixing those cool grey eyes on him.
He could read most people. But after he’d twigged that he’d screwed Charlotte, he couldn’t fathom how the hell she’d been so into it. How did a no-nonsense woman switch from being contained at work to confident enough to strip down, try on raunchy underwear and fuck a stranger in a warehouse? It left him completely baffled.
She’d intrigued him during their many phone conversations and he’d wanted to see how far he could push her. He’d deliberately teased her over the last few weeks, chuckling at the curt shutdowns she reserved for him—and probably every male on the planet.
To think how she’d responded to his touch...at the time, he hadn’t been able to explain rationally his over-the-top urge to possess her. Sure, he’d been too busy to date lately and hadn’t had sex in three months, but he’d never been driven by urges before. Celibacy didn’t bother him, especially when he had a new job in the pipeline. Yet he’d taken one look at Charlotte—not that he’d known it was her at the time—and wanted her.
His cock hardened and he shifted in the uncomfortable ergonomic chair. First item of business on the agenda at The Number Makers: change the furniture and make it more comfortable for staff so they wanted to stick around and work.
Though when he met Charlotte in a few minutes’ time and she realised who she’d had scorching sex with on a table in a back room of his warehouse, he had a feeling nothing would make her stick around.
He had to convince her otherwise.
Her work spoke for itself. She went above and beyond for her clients. She put in extra hours without expecting remuneration. She carried the load for her team. And she’d completed every task he’d set for her over the last few weeks. He’d been testing her, seeing how willing she was to take on extra work and she’d passed.
He hoped to God she wouldn’t quit because he hadn’t kept his dick in his pants.
Worse, he couldn’t get the image of her splayed on that table out of his head. He’d never seen anything so damned erotic as a woman he’d just met being so willing and eager. She’d been absolutely wanton and it had turned him on big time. Later, when he’d discovered her identity, it had made him wonder how he could have gotten her so wrong. Had that bold, fiery woman always been hidden beneath her brusque exterior? And if so, what would it be like to coax her to come out and play again?
He couldn’t afford to think that way. He’d made a mistake by sleeping with an employee, a mistake he had no intention of replicating.
But the fact he couldn’t stop thinking about her, had lain awake most of last night because of it, didn’t bode well for when she entered this office shortly.
He needed to focus on work. On making The Number Makers a strong, viable company. The more money he made, the further he left his old life behind. He couldn’t afford a slip-up.
But what if he’d already slipped up in slaking his unexpected lust for her?
CHARLOTTE LIKED TICKING off tasks in her head.
Pack up Aunt Dee’s merchandise? Check.
Have the boxes couriered to her flat? Check.
Enjoy sizzling sex with random stranger? Check.
Even now, the next morning, heat surged to her cheeks every time she thought about what she’d done in that warehouse.
She, the queen of introverts, having two mind-blowing orgasms with a guy whose name she didn’t even know.
It had been preposterous. Ludicrous. And so freaking incredible that she’d found herself smiling at random times last night, and several times first thing this morning.
After he’d left and she’d got over her funk at doing something so completely illogically bizarre, she’d expected embarrassment and shame to follow her initial remorse. It hadn’t happened. Instead, she’d felt oddly empowered, like she’d taken control of her sexuality and wielded it in a way she’d never anticipated.
Of course it hadn’t lasted and by the time she’d got home, her newfound boldness had faded and humiliation had set in.
How could she have done that?
Obsessing about sex with a stranger was the last thing she needed, especially when she had to meet her pain-in-the-ass boss in person for the first time in ten minutes.
Her confidence had taken more hits than a boxer over the years and while her sexy encounter yesterday had given her a momentary boost, she’d reverted to type today, envisaging their first meeting to be more of the usual: him demanding, her deferent.
To give herself confidence she’d dressed to impress today, wearing her version of a power suit. A deep burgundy knee-length skirt, an ivory silk blouse that tied in a bow at the neck, a fitted black jacket and low kitten heels. She’d even gone all out and straightened her hair. Not in any effort to impress Alexander bloody Bronson but to ensure she exuded self-assurance when she faced her nemesis.
Okay, so she was being a tad overdramatic, but he’d really riled her these last few weeks, barking orders, demanding perfection and teasing her with that ridiculous nickname. Charlie. Made her sound like a boy. And hit a little too close to home because of how asexual she felt at times, languishing in her single life and wishing things could be different. That she could be different.
Courtesy of that sexy stranger yesterday, maybe she could be.
That was what her brain-fade in that warehouse had ultimately been about: embracing her dormant sexy side, indulging in a little excitement, seeing exactly what she was capable of if she let go a little. Because, although she craved a stable, loving guy, deep down she wanted him to rock her world in more ways than one.
Trying not to cringe with embarrassment at the indignity of having sex with a man whose name she didn’t know, she gathered her files, checked them for the third time to ensure she’d stacked them in alphabetical order then