“Um,” I gasp, hitting the button to answer. “Hello?”
“Eliza,” Liam says brusquely. “I’m glad I caught you. I’m looking for a copy of the sales records for the latest—” He breaks off. “Are you exercising?”
“Um, no,” I say, barely able to get the words out. “Not… exactly.”
“You sound out of breath.”
“I’m fine,” I manage, even as I clench at the sound of his voice.
Oh my god, is this really happening?
I know I should put the vibe away. Forget about unprofessional—this is downright inappropriate. But it feels so good and I’m already so close that I just… It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to just, slowly reach down and…
Keep stroking.
Would it?
My hands move of their own accord, bringing the vibe softly against my clit again. I have to bite my lip to keep from making a sound—and all while Liam is droning on about updating our accounting practices.
“These expense reports won’t cut it,” he’s saying, as my body twists tighter, and I arch my back in the sudsy water. “I’ll need full details of which authors you’re taking out, and what project to bill the account to.”
“Uh huh,” I manage to murmur in agreement, as blood pounds in my ears. Right there, oh God, just a little more…
“And when I say there’ll be consequences, I mean it,” he adds, a stern note in his voice. As if he’s warning me not to misbehave.
As if there would be punishment if I did it again.
I can’t help it, just imagining those consequences takes me over the edge. I break apart in a swift, delicious orgasm, the pleasure rushing through my body, hot and sweet.
“Mneuh,” I can’t help gasping, my toes curling against the edge of the porcelain tub.
“What?” Liam sounds alarmed. “Eliza, are you all right?”
Oh. My. God!
I gulp, my cheeks burning up. “I’m great,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady, even as pleasure swims through my limbs. “Never better. I just remembered, I think those sales records are on Rachel’s desk.”
“Well, all right,” he says. “Thank you. I suppose I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
“You will,” I promise, still breathless. “Looking forward to it.”
He hangs up and I slide back into the water, overcoming with guilt and shame and… Pure, delicious pleasure.
I can’t believe I just did that!
Christ, is this what my romantic life has come to, using my hot boss as an unwitting phone sex operator?
And is it terrible that I want more?
6
Eliza
I’m sure that the second Liam lays eyes on me he’s going to know exactly what I was up to on the other end of the phone last night, so I spend the next day holed up in my office with the door shut and the blinds tightly closed, counting down the minutes until I can escape this building, rent a car, and speed out of town to go see Verity.
In the meantime, I do everything I can think of to avoid a Sterling sighting: I text Rachel begging for coffee. I bring my own lunch. I seriously consider peeing in a bottle like a long-haul truck driver, but in the end that feels a little extreme even for the situation at hand. Instead I open the blinds a crack and peer down the hall in both directions to make sure the coast is clear before scurrying down the hall to the bathroom, peeking around corners and ducking behind doors.
I’m nearly back to my office—and already breathing a sigh of relief—when someone taps me on the shoulder. I jump about a mile in the air, and then whirl around—
And come face to face with Liam.
“I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate!” I blurt, even as my eyes dart wildly around, scanning the corridor for a potted plant to hide behind or a window to leap from. “I mean…” I clear my throat, pulling myself together. “Did you need me?”
Liam looks at me a little oddly. “I have some sales numbers I’d like to go over with you,” he says. “Come into my office for a moment?”
“I can’t, actually,” I say, relieved to have an excuse that’s actually true. “I’m about to head out to Long Island to meet with Verity.”
“Ah.” Liam nods briskly. “Good thinking. I’ve been meaning to connect with her in person, too, as a matter of fact. I’ll join you.”
“I—no!” Danger, Will Robinson. “I mean, um, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” I insist quickly. “A trip to Long Island on a Friday afternoon in August? The traffic will be terrible.”
Liam shrugs, apparently unconcerned. “That’ll give us plenty of time to talk about those figures.”
“I’m planning to listen to Taylor Swift,” I try desperately. “Like, a lot of Taylor Swift. A Taylor Swift career retrospective, starting with her earliest country release and proceeding in chronological order, including b-sides and deep cuts.”
“All right?” Liam looks a little confused. “Well, I can’t say I’m terribly familiar with her work, but I’m always open to discovering new artists.”
Seriously? Who IS this guy? “I’m leaving right this minute.” I try.
“Excellent,” he says, nodding briskly. “No time like the present, I always say. My car is right downstairs.”
And with that, he marches off toward the elevator.
Two hours in commuter traffic with the infuriating, frustrating, extremely good-looking
object of my X-rated bathtub fantasies?
“Can’t wait,” I mutter, and trudge off to grab my purse.
But as we get the trip underway, one thing becomes clear: Liam is not a Taylor Swift superfan.
“This is terrible,” he announces before we’ve even left the city, glaring at the stereo like Taylor herself might be in there, eagerly anticipating his opinion of her life’s work. “Seriously, how can you listen to this caterwauling?”
I frown. I don’t know why I’m surprised, really. Other things he’s scorned in the short time we’ve been riding together: my road trip snacks (too sugary); my traffic app (too unreliable); the A/C (too wasteful). My hair sticks to the back of my neck in the humidity. Still, I can’t help but take the bait. “What’s wrong with Taylor Swift?”
“What isn’t wrong with Taylor Swift?” Liam fires back. “Her insipid melodies. Her obsession with her own reputation. Her exhausting lyrical autopsies of whatever romantic entanglement she’s currently engrossed in. Is it all the same man? Is it a different man each time? I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Ooookay,” I say, reminding myself with some difficulty that this is the guy who holds my entire career in his annoyingly strong-looking hands. Besides, Taylor doesn’t need me defending her, she’s doing perfectly fine all on her own. “What would you like to listen to?”
“I prefer quiet, actually,” he says pointedly.
I blow a breath out. “Fine,” I say, clicking the stereo off as we merge onto the highway. Silence it is.