I raise my knees and slip my hand between my legs. My fingers search for my nub and find it in seconds. As I stroke it, I touch my breast with my other hand. I pinch the nipple gently, then start to rub it.
My hands in place, I let my imagination wander. I've never had sex before. Never had time for romance except for the one I had in high school which, thankfully, didn't get physical, because that guy was a jerk. So I simply conjure the sex acts from the memories of the books I've read, pretending I'm the heroine. I think about the book I just read, about that scene in the orchard. I pretend I'm lying on top of my cloak on the grass, the hero above me with his ebony eyes gazing into mine.
He's supposed to have red hair like every member of his family and a scar on his cheek, and yet I can't seem to picture his face. I can feel my desire ebbing away.
No. Think of a man. Any man. Any man with piercing eyes and a facial structure any artist would love to capture. A man with a perfectly fit body wrapped in a suit, who exudes testosterone and power.
Suddenly, Ethan comes to mind. His coal black eyes. His raven hair. His jawline that never gets covered in hair and looks especially defined when you look at him from the side or when he's thinking and his hands are tucked beneath his chin. His thin lips that barely smile but bring out the adorable lines at the corners of his eyes when they do.
He kisses me with those lips. I place my hands on his cheeks and pull his face down. He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head as his tongue subdues mine. His fingers tease my nipple and my nub at the same time and moans leave my throat, only to be muffled by his skillful mouth.
That mouth descends on my breast and heat spreads across my back. His hand moves faster, strumming me like a guitarist working magic on his strings. I'm soaking wet. My breath comes in gasps. My hips rise off the bed and my toes curl into the mattress.
The wave of pleasure comes. It sends me shaking all over and knocks the breath from my lungs. I throw my head back and let out a cry as I savor the height of that wave. After it passes, I drop my hips and straighten my legs. I take a moment to catch my breath before pulling my clothes back into place. Then I rest my hands on my chest as I stare at the ceiling.
As my mind clears, dismay and remorse welcome me back to reality.
What the hell, Stella? Masturbating to your boss? Not cool.
I slap my forehead. I know I was feeling lonely, but that's no excuse for doing what I just did. Ethan is my boss. Sure, he may well be the hottest boss in the world, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't find him attractive. I've actually had a crush on him for the past two years, since the moment I saw his picture on the company website right after I was hired. And when we first met by the pool at his father's house? My knees got so weak I nearly fell into the water.
But he's my boss. He's the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and one of the richest men in the country, and I'm just an assistant who can't even afford to travel. I may be always by his side but we're worlds apart. Then there are the rules, of course. As boss and employee, there's a line between us that absolutely cannot be crossed. There's no way we're ever going to have sex.
I'll just have to settle for bringing him coffee, answering his calls and putting papers on his desk. And the chats that we sometimes have after work.
I look forward to those, actually. They're my favorite part of the week, the reason why I usually stay in the office even after the others have gone home. The conversations never last for more than five minutes and we never talk about anything important, but in those five minutes, we seem like friends instead of boss and assistant.
I know that's the most I can ever hope for, and lately I haven't even been getting that. Maybe that's why I started fantasizing about him. Maybe I just miss him. He's been so busy with the company's newest and biggest acquisition, some financial firm in Switzerland, that he's been attending more meetings and staying at the office later than ever. I think he sleeps there sometimes. He's even going to Switzerland soon to iron out some details and
-
A sudden realization stops my thoughts in their tracks. Speaking of Switzerland, wasn't I supposed to send the tailor additional funds to finish Ethan's suits?
Shit. I've been trying to plan so many things for his trip that that important little detail slipped from my mind. But I'm going to fix that now.
I wash up and get dressed as fast as I can, then gather the stuff on top of my bed and shove it inside my purse as I run out the door.
Hopefully, I can fix this blunder before Ethan notices.
~
"Thank goodness." I let out a sigh of relief after getting off the phone.
I managed to get in touch with the tailor in Switzerland. Thank goodness he was already awake. I've just sent him payment from the digital wallet set up on my office computer and told him to deliver the suits to the hotel as soon as he's finished with them. In short, I've managed to prevent a disaster. Now, Ethan is all set for Switzerland.
And I can go home.
I glance at the door to his office as I gather my things. I can see the sliver of light beneath it so I know he's still inside. I should get home before he knows I'm here and -
I gasp as I see the leather-bound journal inside my purse. What?
I pick it up and flip through the pages just to make sure it is what I think it is. It's my journal, alright. I must have accidentally shoved it inside my purse along with my other things while I was panicking over my mistake.
Oh, Stella, you can be so stupid sometimes.
I'm about to put it back in my purse but the door to Ethan's office opens and I panic again. I stand up so abruptly that the purse on my lap falls off. Before I can pick it up, I realize I'm still holding my journal, which I definitely don't want Ethan to see, so I quickly hide it behind some sheets of paper on my desk.
"Are you okay?" Ethan asks as he approaches.
"Yes," I answer as I pick up my purse and its spilled contents. Then I stand up and face him with a smile. "Everything's fine."
Ethan doesn't look convinced. He stares at me with a puzzled expression and I realize I must look like a mess. I didn't get to tie my hair before I left home and it's flowing past my shoulders with more than a few strands out of place. And what I'm wearing is a lot more casual than my usual office outfits - khaki slacks and a plain white blouse. Shit. Why did he have to see me like this? I've just ruined the image of the woman who's efficient, cool, calm and completely in control that I've tried so hard to create.
"Weren't you wearing something else earlier?" Ethan asks.
Yup. Something nicer.
"I was," I admit as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I already went home, changed, and was all set to enjoy my weekend, but I suddenly remembered something I had to do."
"It couldn't wait until Monday?"
"Not really. And I didn't want to worry about it over the weekend so..." I draw a breath. "Anyway, it's done now. Nothing to worry about. I can go and enjoy the weekend."
Ethan nods. "You do that."
"How about you?" I ask him.
I know he just gave me my cue to leave, but a part of me can't help but want to extend this conversation even just a little longer, especially considering this is the first time he's talked to me in days.