Flirting with the Boss

Camden Manning is hot, rich, and arrogant - exactly the kind of man my mother said would want to fuck me, but never love me. He’s also the CEOs brother, second in charge, and therefore my boss.

I flirt with everyone. It’s part of what makes me - me. But after one stolen kiss last Christmas, with him, I no longer merely flirt, I tease.

I want him and he knows it, but I can’t give in to a man who will grow tired of me after a couple of weeks, even if I get great sex out of it.

So instead, I avoid him.

But when his brother leaves for his honeymoon, he’s in charge and assigns me as his executive admin. Now there is no avoiding him. The more time we spend together, the more I see he’s not the playboy I thought he was—he’s so much more.

Can I give in to my desires and trust this boss with my heart?

!! Formerly titled Flirt Like A Pin-Up !!

I’m standing at the library windows in Coulter Manning’s mini-mansion, watching one of my close friends, Brooklyn Pierce, become Mrs. Manning. Actually, she became Mrs. Manning about thirty minutes ago. I know because I was standing next to her as they exchanged their sickly sweet handwritten vows. 

Unfortunately for me, also standing up with the bride and groom was Camden Manning, Coulter’s younger brother and the bane of my existence—hence why I’m hiding in the library looking down at the party versus mingling with the guests and flirting with the few cute, single men.

This is crazy. I’m a born mingler. 

A professional flirter. 

The party personified.

But that man makes me so crazy, I feel the need to hide until I can leave this beautiful party without insulting anyone—specifically the bride and groom.

“You want to see something cool?” I’d know Camden’s silky smooth voice anywhere. I’ve been masturbating to his sensual voicemails for months. Voicemails he should not be leaving me. Voicemails asking and telling me about all the things he wants to do to me. 

The man is delicious and filthy, which is why I avoid him. I can’t tell him no when we’re face to face. All I can do is make sure I’m walking away whenever he looks at me in the office. Or listen to his voicemails ad nauseam, but never return his calls.

I can’t let him know how he affects me.

“From you? No,” I say without turning around. I will not make eye contact with him. We cannot engage or else I will lose control. 

He’s hot—like off-the-charts hot. Number five on Spring City’s top ten most eligible bachelors chart-style hot. And when he gets close, he knows how to turn my insides into molten goo. 

We’ve never had sex, but we’ve fooled around a couple of times. The first time was at the company Christmas party last December in this very room. Then after the Matchmakers speed dating event on Valentine’s Day at the Overlook Hotel. And then last June at Coulter and Brooklyn’s engagement party—again in this very room.

Why did I choose this room to hide? It’s like I’m asking for him to find me.

Maybe I am.

A latch clicks and then he’s standing behind me, his chest pressed against my back, warm breath caressing my neck. “You look beautiful, Margot,” he says as he slides his palm up my bare arm. 

“Don’t.” I shrug out of his hold, taking a few steps away before turning to face him. “What are you doing in here?”

“Looking for you.”

Shaking my head, I flash him a placating smile. “I’ve already told you, I’m not going to fuck you in your brother’s library, Mr. Manning.”

“Did I ask to fuck you?” Camden leans against the window frame with his hands in his pockets.

“No, but—”

“I have, however, asked you out on many dates, and you’ve turned me down every time. Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because—” he uses his finger and performs air quotes while rolling his eyes “—I don’t really want you. I just want to fuck you like every other man.”

I frown. I’ve only said that to him a couple times, but apparently that was enough. “And you’re my boss.”

He shakes his head and pushes off the window frame. “I’m not your boss. I’m the President of Sales and Public Relations at the company you work for.”

“You’ll be everyone’s boss for the next month while Coulter is on his honeymoon.” 

A sinister smile spreads across Camden’s perfect lips as he takes a step toward me. “That’s right, and I’ll need an assistant. I wonder who that should be?”

“No.” I take one step back for every step he takes forward until I’m backed up against a stack of books. Camden doesn’t stop, removing the space between us, his broad chest pressed against my full breasts. He sticks his nose into the crook of my neck, inhaling my scent and sending blood rushing straight to my clit. 

Fuck, this man makes me crazy. 

“Having me as your assistant would be a bad idea, Camden.” I say on a whisper. With words so weakly spoken, not even I believe me.

“Because no matter how hard you try to resist me, you can’t. Not really. Not when you’re forced to deal with me—which, as my assistant, you would be. Daily.”

I melt into the aforementioned pile of goo as soon as he sucks my earlobe between his teeth. “Oh, God, Camden.”

He kisses my neck and along my jaw, his hand sliding up my hip and over my corset to rest underneath my breast. “I want you, Margot, and you want me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Sighing, I hear my mother’s voice in my head. By the time I turned thirteen, I was fully developed with curves that a twenty-two-year-old only dreams of having. My mother, who at one time was even more statuesque, resented me for stealing her youth and figure. She’d been a burlesque dancer and pin-up model with dreams of making it big on the Hollywood screens when she’d gotten pregnant with me. Her talent agent, my absentee father, settled her in Spring City with his parents before I was born. My grandparents never wanted much to do with me—not that my mother gave them a reason to take us in with open arms—but I guess they didn’t have much of a choice when she left me for weeks at a time.

After I was born, she started dancing at a high-end strip club in Denver, searching for a rich guy to date. I don’t know if she was ever an escort, but I do know she landed herself a rich husband looking for a trophy wife by the time I was two. That relationship lasted nine years, during which I did everything I could to stay out of their way on the rare occasions I lived with them. He was an awful man, egotistical and narcissistic, trading her in for a younger model when she turned thirty, but as it turned out, he was better than all the boyfriends that came after him. I kept myself locked away from those who paid me more notice than appropriate, my mother’s hatred for me growing any time I took the attention away from her.

On my sixteenth birthday, she said this to me: “No man will ever love you, Margot. Men covet beautiful women, but they don’t love or marry us. They want to fuck us and show us off to their friends, but that’s it.”

I lay my palms flat on his chest and push him back. “You’re wrong.”

“Liar.” He chuckles. “The truth is in the flush of your cheeks.”

“What can I say? I’m a born flirt.”

His gaze slides down to my cleavage, which is almost always on prominent display. “With everyone else, you’re a flirt, but with me, you’re a cock tease.”

My cherry red lips part as my mouth hangs open. “I am not.”

“Yes, you are, but it’s okay.” Camden trails his fingertips over the top of my breasts. “I watch you, and I see the difference. I’d rather you be teasing me and flirting with others than vice versa. I don’t think I’d maintain my decorum around the office if I saw you teasing anyone else.”

“Exactly what, in your superior estimation, is the difference?”

“Smiles, winks, and cute pet names are nice, but you only put an extra swing in your hips around me. You draw attention to your plump lips around me. Your back arches and breasts heave around me—for me, which is exactly how I want it to be.” Camden takes several steps back and touches a hidden button embedded in the bookshelf. There’s a clicking sound and then the shelf pops forward, revealing a hidden doorway. “Now, back to my original question. Do you want to see something cool?”