Read Online Flex Time (Office Toy) by Cleo Peitsche - Free Book Online Page A

pieces. 
    Fancy was nice, and she liked being spoiled, but she didn’t feel comfortable in Cunningham’s favorite restaurants. She hadn’t gone to an expensive college, she didn’t own polo ponies or a yacht, and she didn’t understand the stock market, let alone invest in it.
    When Cunningham dragged her into one of those places, she saw her inadequacy reflected in the eyes of every coiffed, manicured woman. They were wondering why a man like Cunningham, thrill-seeker, gazillionaire, built like a secret superhero, would choose her.
    She used to think she looked like the girl next door with her average body and straight, reddish-brown hair. Now she realized that she was the girl next door. Average. And that was actually ok. Too bad Cunningham didn’t seem to accept it.
    Elle closed the message. She would just pretend she hadn’t gotten Cunningham’s summons. It was the most rebellious thing she’d ever contemplated, and she immediately felt guilty.
    But geez, sometimes a girl just needed a little time to think.
     
    Thirty minutes later, the bustling deli had distracted her from most of her worries. Diners propped their elbows on the tables, grabbed food off each other’s plates with their bare hands. They laughed louder than they needed to, snapped photos with their phones. It was so lively, so human .
    With a pang, she regretted that Nolan was still away on personal business. The last few days a temp had been manning the receptionist’s desk where Nolan—inexplicably, since he was even wealthier than Cunningham—worked.
    She’d wanted Cunningham to admit he had feelings for her and to take their relationship beyond lust-driven gang bangs. He suggested trying it for a month, and if the fit was right, to continue on. Jonathan and Nolan had enthusiastically agreed.
    Nolan would have had insight in how to deal with Cunningham. If only she had a girlfriend to candidly talk things over with. She couldn’t just blurt out, “One of my dominant lovers is acting weird, what should I do?”
    She licked crumbs off her fingers, then picked up the second half of her sinfully rich, cinnamon raisin bagel sandwich and bit into it, savoring the satisfying toasted crunch and decadent cream cheese. As she chewed, she slowly realized that the deli’s atmosphere had changed noticeably; conversations were a bit more subdued, and women were sending meaningful glances toward the main entrance.
    Elle twisted, then immediately turned back around, but the image was burned into her retinas.
    Cunningham stood there, scanning the room for her. He was imposing, tall and broad. He had the kind of body she would have drawn if she wanted to suggest virility, confidence, and power. 
    His tasteful, expensive suit couldn’t hide that.
    And she couldn’t hide from him.
    Taking a deep breath, she turned back around. Their eyes met, and it was like a charge of electricity zapped between them. It was impossible to breathe; somehow all the oxygen in the room flowed right to Cunningham. The man was power incarnate.
    She felt her face reddening as a few of the women sent envious glances her way. She knew what they were thinking. Girl next door. 
    Cunningham walked directly to her, shoving empty chairs aside rather than following the logical pathway, and anyone who wasn’t looking before was sure as hell staring now.
    Goddamn, but the way he came right at her was making her nipples harden in anticipation. 
    “You have to order at the counter,” Elle said. Her voice sounded surprisingly steady.
    Cunningham loomed over her. From where she sat, she had an excellent view of his square jaw, perfect for nibbling and covering in kisses. Not that she’d ever tried. It’d be like cuddling up to a tiger. He tilted his chin down, his dark eyes staring right into her soul, it seemed. 
    “It’s after 1:00. What makes you think I haven’t eaten lunch?”
    Damn. Oh, dammit all to hell. It was clear from the way he stared at her that he knew she’d