could pick it up and look inside. Who’s the guy she’s talking about? Someone at school? Could very well be…or a coworker here.
A mental image of her hunching over the journal, writing about some asshole in the office, soft brown curls falling over her brow as she tucks a strand behind her ear with her slender fingers, makes my chest tight. I shouldn’t care that she has a crush on someone. She’s my assistant, for fuck’s sake. She’s barely twenty-five, still in grad school, quiet and polite, practically fresh off the farm. Totally not my type.
None of that keeps me from grabbing the journal and adding it to the top of the Sanderson paperwork. I tell my conscience to shut the hell up and slam my office door behind me.
I manage to focus on my work for another good half hour, but the red journal keeps drawing my attention. All her secrets, right there and ripe for the plucking.
What do I know about Emme, other than she’s a hard worker? She’s in grad school for business administration after getting a Bachelor’s in interior design. She’s small and curvy, with a mess of brown hair that never seems to stay restrained. Her lips quirk in one corner, and she has deep dimples. She’s quiet but her eyes convey thoughtfulness, and I can tell she’s a quick learner.
And she’s spilled her guts in a book I can’t stop myself from reaching over to grab.
After a furtive glance at my office door, I open the diary and start to read.
A half hour later, my dick is so hard it’s screaming to be released from my pants. The blood is roaring in my veins, and my heart won’t stop racing. Holy fuck, the dirty shit Emme’s written about me …who knew? Who knew that quiet young girl has such intense fantasies?
Has anyone ever expressed such brutal, gut-wrenchingly honest feelings about me in their entire life? Sure as fuck not my ex-wife, or any of these women I date on and off. They’re always far too restrained, always so careful not to give their real selves away, not to drop their guard. No one pierces the façade; no vulnerabilities leak through.
Sounds familiar. Sounds like my people. We are smooth and polished and charming. Something I always praised myself on.
But not Emme. She bleeds her heart right on the page, no fears, no shame. Just raw emotion, right there in the smooth curves of her inked lines.
I’ve learned more about Emme and her life in these pages than I’ve bothered to learn about any other woman in ages. And the sudden numerous realizations about myself and the many flaws in my character humble me.
Bring a fresh stab of guilt.
Of course, a small part of me wonders if she left this on purpose for me to find. Perhaps this diary is a message to me, or whatever. But I don’t think so; it’s too illogical for her to do so. If she is sending me a message, I don’t believe she’d leave it out for anyone in the office to stumble upon. Not to mention the HR complications that come from her sharing such intense, sexual thoughts with her boss. She wouldn’t risk her job this way—I know that much.
Yeah, I really shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have invaded her privacy like this. Hell, I never even allowed myself to think about her like that—like…a flesh-and-blood woman. Anything other than just an employee. The office is not a place for fooling around; you don’t shit where you eat. After growing up and watching my dad stick his dick in more secretaries than I can count, I took that motto to heart.
And I’ve never been more tempted to break it than I am right now.
My gaze goes to a recent entry as I reread it, let the words soak in.
M y fingers just can’t seem to satisfy me the way I need to be satisfied. It doesn’t help that when I’m at work and I see Dane’s hands, I pretend he follows me to the bathroom and locks us in a stall and shoves his hands in my panties while I bite his shoulder to stay quiet. And he makes me come and come all over his fingers, and then licks
K. Sterling
Jacquie Rogers
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley
Shiloh Walker
Elizabeth Moynihan
Mary Balogh
Tara Fox Hall
Jonathan Maberry
Jane Hunt
James Kakalios