Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Your plot includes your main character sweeping off his desk for mad, passionate sex?” I asked, unsure exactly where the lines of propriety were for this conversation, but knowing we’d more than blown past them.
“Well, yeah.” She glanced up at me.
“Well, I wouldn’t.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my slacks.
“You wouldn’t clear your desk?” She tilted her head and studied the pristine glass surface. “I mean, I guess you’re right. There’s not a lot on there to sweep away.”
“I like things orderly, and no, that’s not what I meant. The desk isn’t the issue.”
“It’s not?” Her pen paused above the tablet.
“No. And though it’s none of your business, I’ve never had sex in my office. This place is for work. And even if I had, it’s not like the desk is some giant obstacle to overcome. I’m generally good with any surface.” For fuck’s sake, why had I said all that?
“From what I saw this morning in the gym, I’m not sure you’d need any surface,” she muttered.
My eyebrows hit the ceiling. Guess I wasn’t the only one thinking sexually about the other here.
“So it’s more the secretary thing for you?”
“I don’t make a habit of fucking the women I work with, Daisy.” I glanced at the clock and straightened my tie. We had exactly seven minutes to get downstairs to the conference room before the next meeting was scheduled to start. “My company has a zero tolerance policy for sexual harassment, and that includes the boss.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Right. That makes sense.”
“Excellent. Let’s head to the conference room.” I opened the door for her and she walked out, that beautiful ass swaying under the fabric of her dress.
“They’re waiting downstairs for you,” Mrs. Donaldson said, handing me a leather portfolio from behind her desk as we walked by.
“Already? Is everyone time-obsessed around here?” Daisy muttered, heading for the elevator.
“Thank you.” I offered Mrs. Donaldson a smile, and she nodded, a twinkle in her eye as she glanced toward Daisy.
“That one is going to keep you on your toes,” she whispered.
“Don’t doubt it,” I replied just as quietly, quickly following Daisy to the elevator. She’d already pushed the button, and the doors opened just as I got there.
“So when do you have time?” she asked as I stepped inside the elevator with her. “You know…if it wasn’t your secretary, and not in your office? Purely for research sake?”
“Are you asking me when I have time for sex?” A smile pulled at my lips as I touched the button for the next floor down. Normally, I’d take the stairs, but her footwear didn’t seem like the most comfortable on the planet. “Don’t you think that’s kind of personal, even for shadowing? And it hardly seems fair that I’m expected to open myself up like a book while you scribble my secrets away.”
“You’re right.” Pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m not a schedule girl. So, if I was your secretary in this book—you know, where sexual harassment clearly isn’t a problem because the characters are so hot for each other that they’re willing to throw caution to the wind and forget the rules—then I’d make time for desk-sweeping sex. Or I’d be good with after dinner. Or before dinner.” Her brow puckered. “Or even in the morning, depending on how late I was up writing.”
The doors closed, and we started to descend.
“If you were the secretary in the book.” Every muscle in my body clenched, my brain sizzling like I’d crossed a wire somewhere with the images flickering through at warp speed. Daisy, up on my desk, her thighs spread, her dress around her waist as her heels dug into my ass. Daisy on her back in the middle of my bed, Egyptian cotton caressing every curve and curl as I drove into her. Daisy leaned over my dining room table, her round, pert ass in my hands, her moans filling the room as I—
You have to stop.
“I mean, with the schedule everyone in your world seems to keep, I bet you’d have to schedule sex.”
“I can fit you in around ten if I skip my designated reading hour,” I responded before my brain could put a leash on my mouth.
“Ha.” She rolled her eyes. “Though I kind of believe it with your hours. And sorry about all the sex questions. My job kind of revolves around them.”
“Because you write romance novels.” We arrived at the floor and the doors opened with a ding.
“Absolutely. I mean, sex plays a huge roll in romance novels, but mostly it’s the tension, the expectation. And don’t get me wrong, I know that I write fantasies for women,” she started as we stepped out onto the floor. The conference room ahead of us was entirely glass, and it seemed everyone was in their seats and ready to start, yet here I was, discussing the role of sex in romance novels.