Boss Man Bridegroom Page 15

  Maybe it’s the soft makeup she’s wearing, or the excitement in her beautiful features, or the way she’s worn her hair half up, half down, exposing a soft slope of her neck. Or it might be the way her shirt clings to her breasts, or how I can see the definition in her legs from her leggings.

  Whatever it is, my body is humming, my brain is turning foggy, and I realize, I could get into some serious trouble tonight if I’m not careful.

  “But guess what, Rath? If we’re going to have a long working relationship, we’re going to have to know some things about each other, some personal things, and that’s okay, because it will only make our bond stronger. Better.” She squeezes my arm and I have this all-consuming feeling to pull her into my chest, dip her backward, and run my tongue along her neck. Yup, I’m fucking screwed. “Trust me, for every embarrassing story I learn about you, I’ll reply with one of my own.”

  She winks and then helps herself to some food.

  And because I’m the asshole that I am, I watch her bend over and take in her perfect little ass and lack of panty line.

  Fucking . . . screwed.

  * * *

  When Charlee said she’d tell me a secret about her every time Roark or Bram revealed something about me, she wasn’t lying.

  She’s actually religiously kept her word.

  During the evening, to my detriment, she now knows I used to pee in hampers when I was drunk, I once got my head stuck in the staircase rails and they had to call the fire department to release me, I once wore skirts to class for a week, and . . . I was walked in on while shaving my lower regions while sporting a massive boner. That was the one that made me want to throw myself out the window of Bram’s high-rise.

  But in return, of course, I now know Charlee was caught giving her high school boyfriend a blow job in her parents’ minivan; she puked on her English teacher’s desk in high school from a hangover; she also has peed in a few hampers in her lifetime, a bonding moment she thought was great, but I did not; and the kicker to the crotch—she has yet to know what a “good licking” (as she put it) feels like.

  It’s bad enough I keep staring at her ass every time she stands up to draw on the whiteboard, now I have the image of a sexually frustrated Charlee in my head while her inadequate partners try to make her come with their tongues.

  What the fuck are they doing down there if they can’t get her off? Just laying their dead tongues on her clit hoping for a miracle?

  To say the least, the evening has been fucking torture.

  “Oh my God, it’s so Bull Durham,” Charlee says, whispering into my ear.

  And then there’s that.

  The whispering, the touching, the friendship she thinks we’re developing, when in fact, all she’s doing is turning me into a horny bastard. She’s good at Pictionary, really good . . . when other people are drawing, she gets the answers in seconds, whispering it into my ear, sending chills up and down my spine. But when it’s our turn, we seem to have a disconnect. And it’s all my fault, because I can’t seem to focus on what I’m drawing when she sits in front of me, her head at dick height, hopping up and down and shouting answers. It’s as if I unzipped my pants, I could shut her up with my cock in her mouth.

  And I’ve thought about it on multiple occasions.

  Every time I have to draw.

  The thought is so vivid that I can’t think of anything else. Every time I stand, I’m tempted to move her hair to the side and bring her head to my crotch.

  And.

  I.

  Can’t.

  Think.

  That.

  She’s.

  My.

  Executive.

  Assistant.

  But right here in this room, while we’re having a game night with my friends, with her on her knees before me, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and if I’m completely honest, I want to ravish her.

  Fuck.

  Talk about causing a reaction from everyone around us.

  Then again, I don’t think Roark would be surprised, because he’s been watching me so closely, he can probably read every dirty thought that’s entered my mind.

  But even with my distractions, we’re not the ones losing. Bram and Linus are, and let’s just say Bram is not taking it well at all. Quite upset and distraught, he’s resigned to shoving his mouth full of food rather than trying to take a stab at guessing other people’s drawings for the steal when the team time runs out.

  “Your turn,” Bram says, tossing the marker at me.

  Charlee reaches behind me and massages my shoulders, leaning forward so her breath tickles my ear. “You got this, boss man. Simple drawings. I’m a superior guesser. The win is in the bag for us.”

  Fuck, she needs to stop touching me like that, or maybe move her hands forward over my shoulders and down my pecs to my nipples . . .

  Shaking my head, I stand abruptly and pray to the boner gods that I keep things under control.

  “Team Lemon Curdies,” Charlee says, like every time it’s our turn, and pumps her fist to the air.

  Fuck, she’s adorable.

  Really fucking adorable.

  Her smile is infectious, her excitement thrilling, and the way she gets all handsy when playing competitively, let’s just say I can feel her handprints all over my body.

  Okay, focus, Westin.

  I pick up a card and say, “It’s an action.”

  Charlee claps her hands. “Action, got it. Let’s go.”

  I glance at the clue and Bram starts the timer.

  Cannon blast.

  Easy. Focus. You’ve got this.

  I draw a circle for the wheel and then two lines for the cannon.

  “Penis,” Charlee shouts, falling to her knees in front of me like every time before and staring up, her exhilarated eyes searing through me. “Penis, big penis. Small penis.”

  “It’s an action,” Bram says.

  “Oh right.” Charlee nods.

  Trying to help my cannon look less like a penis, I attempt to draw a circle for the opening but end up making it more like a head. Fuck.

  “Thrusting penis. Pelvic thrusting penis. Cock . . . cocking-up cock. Oh dick. It’s a dick. Dicking around. Is it dicking around?”

  Christ.

  I draw another “cannon” and this time, I draw a circle and think it looks more like a cannon opening when Charlee says, “Penis hole. Penis neck. Penis . . . Oh. Circumcising penis. Circumcision. It’s circumcision!” she shouts even louder. Tugging on my pants, she asks, “Is it circumcision?”

  I shake my head, grind my teeth together, and draw a blast from the top of the cannon hole, but boy oh boy, does that make it exponentially worse.

  “Ejaculation. Boner ejaculators. Boner coming. My boner is coming. The penis is coming. Oh! Coming cock. It’s coming cock.”

  Jesus Christ, stop saying coming. And cock! For the love of God, stop saying cock. I shake my head, swallowing hard.

  “Penis . . . Uh . . . penis.”

  “Ten seconds,” Bram calls out and that’s when Charlee puts the guessing into full force, turning me bright red as her head bobs with answers right in front of my crotch.

  “Wet dreams, premature ejaculation, come on my face, coming on a face. Coming on tits.” She pokes my leg, looking straight up at me. “Is it come on my tits?” I. Am. Dying. A. Slow. Death. “No, okay. Cock clock. Penis . . . penis . . . penis . . . penis . . .”

  “Time.”

  “Mother-effer, is it pre-cum?”

  I drag my hand over my face and toss the pen on the coffee table. “Cannon blast,” I say on a squeak, my libido at 100 percent from the onslaught of her saying cock and come on my tits.

  “Huh.” She sits back on her heels and taps her chin. “Yes, I can see where I missed the mark there. Guess my mind was just on the male phallus.” I got nothing. No words. Barely any breath. Nothing.

  “Don’t be hard on yourself. I was thinking the same thing, especially since the comparison of th
e picture to Rath’s member is uncanny,” Roark says.

  “And the jizz . . . spot on,” Bram adds. “He always considered himself a cannon. Remember the time you—?”

  “Would you look at that,” I say. “Roark and Sutton won. Game over.” I pick up my water and walk toward the balcony of Bram’s apartment. In desperate need for some fresh air to not only cool off, but to give me a second to calm down my racing heart and raging hormones.

  * * *

  The door to the balcony opens and softly closes. I don’t need to turn around to see who it is, because at this point, I can sense her.

  I’m leaning against the stone wall with my forearms, my glass gripped in my hands when Charlee comes up next to me.

  She bumps me with her hip and says, “You okay?”

  “Fine. You?”

  She smiles softly at me and turns around so her back is against the wall and we’re facing each other. “Pretty sure you’re never going to look at me the same after the penis parade I just had.”

  I’m not going to be able to look at you the same for many other reasons, mainly because those leggings are doing all sorts of things to my imagination.

  “Nah, you’re good,” I say, staring at my water glass.

  “Doesn’t seem like it. You were beet-red in there. I thought you might explode. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

  I shake my head. “You didn’t. My friends on the other hand . . .”

  “They weren’t that bad. I’m pretty sure if you gave my grandma some time, she’d tell you way worse things about me. I think you got off pretty easy.”

  “I’m your boss.”

  “So you like to remind me.” The wind breezes by us, picking up her soft blonde hair, sending her shampoo scent in my direction. Tea tree and lavender. “You know, it’s okay if we get to know each other, Rath.”

  “We need to keep things platonic.”

  “We are. Unless you’ve been making out with me without my knowledge.”

  I grip my glass tighter when I say, “I mean we need to keep things professional.”

  “Why? Why are you being such a stickler about this? Have you boned your assistant before?” Fuck. I cringe and when I don’t say anything, understanding washes over her. “Ohhhh, you totally boned your assistant before. This makes so much sense. Who was she?”

  I shake my head. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Trust me, I’m sure you’re going to have an easy time with keeping it in your pants. From the way you brush me off easily, there’s zero attraction when it comes to me.”

  I dip my head, biting my tongue, wanting to tell her she’s right, but I know it will come out as a blatant lie.

  “Right, Rath . . . no attraction?”

  I swallow hard and tilt my bent head toward her.

  Her eyes widen and realization crosses over her eyes.

  Now she’s the one who swallows hard.

  I clear my throat and stand a little taller. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something.”

  Snapping at her, I say, “It’s nothing.” From the shocked look on her face, I immediately regret the harsh tone in my voice. “Charlee—”

  “It’s getting late. I should get going.”

  She pushes off the wall and walks back into the apartment as I say, “Charlee, I’m sor—”

  But the door shuts before I can finish my sentence.

  Fucking great.

  And this is exactly why I wanted to avoid after hours with Charlee Cox, because now she knows something she shouldn’t . . . and I’m not talking about me peeing in hampers.

  She knows I think she’s attractive . . . and that’s the first step down the I’m fucked hole.

  * * *

  “Charlee bolted out of here quick,” Bram says, resting on his couch once we cleaned up and everyone took off but me since Bram wanted to talk to me. “Apparently she doesn’t feel comfortable peeing in other people’s places. That’s what Linus told me as well. Sounded like a bogus excuse to get the hell out of here after having a private conversation with her boss on the balcony. What do you think?”

  I don’t answer. I lean back in the armchair and close my eyes.

  “What did you say, man?”

  “It’s not what I said, it’s what I didn’t deny.”

  “Oh . . . shit. What happened?”

  “Nothing that won’t make things awkward on Monday.” I shift to the side. “Really not in the mood to talk about it. Just tell me what has you keeping me here late.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? We can hash it out.”

  “Stop stalling and talk to me.”

  He sighs and says, “Okay, so you know how Julia had to tell you the wedding was on your birthday because I couldn’t stomach it?”

  “Yeah,” I say skeptically.

  “Well, there’s something she needs to tell you but opted to do tradesies, so now I have the fine opportunity to tell you.”

  “You two need help.”

  “We’re communicating effectively. I thought it was a winning idea, that was until I learned what I have to tell you.”

  “Must be bad if Julia referred to you. Just peel off the Band-Aid and tell me.”

  He leans forward and clasps his hands in front of him. “You know how we sent out the wedding invitations the other day?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, there’s someone Julia’s inviting that you might not be fond of.”

  Someone I might not be fond of? I don’t hold many grudges or—

  My eyes pop open and I stare my best friend down, one person coming to mind. “No.”

  He winces and nods. “Vanessa is invited.”

  “Why the fuck would Julia want to invite my ex-girlfriend?”

  “Because they’re friends, dude. She still talks to her. Occasionally they go out to lunch. It would be weird if she didn’t invite her.”

  “She broke my heart,” I say, yelling now, the tension from the night piling on top of this shitty information.

  “You weren’t the best boyfriend either,” Bram points out. “Come on, man. She might have been the one to break things off, but you were the one who fizzled things out between you two. I love you, but you know that’s true.”

  I drag my hand over my face. “It became too much; we had to slow down for a second.”

  “And you know she didn’t see it that way. At this point, it doesn’t matter what happened between you two, because all that matters is she’s moved on. She has a fiancé and they’re both invited to the wedding.”

  “Where’s the goddamn loyalty?” I ask, shooting off my seat. “I’m the best man and the bride’s brother. Shouldn’t there be some goddamn loyalty toward—” I pause and then turn to face Bram. “Did you say she has a fiancé?”

  Bram nods. “She does. She’s happy. She’s moved on.”

  “Great. Just what I want to fucking hear. Glad she’s happy. I’m a miserable fuck over here.”

  “Because you let yourself be miserable,” Bram says. “I am always Team Rath, you know this, but there needs to come a time in your life where you’re not revolving your love life around one girl who broke your heart. You need to move on.”

  “With who? Either women want me for my money, or they want me for my dick. They don’t want me for my soul or my heart. You knew what it was like before you made a move on Julia. Our dating situation is different than the average person. Our names and faces are splashed all over the news and Page Six. We are recognizable and women want us for the wrong reasons. How the hell am I supposed to move on with those kinds of odds?”

  “You could. You just choose not to.”

  “Fuck off.” I walk toward his door, needing to get out of here. Before I open the door, I turn toward him and say, “I would never do this to you or Julia. If the roles were reversed, I’d never consider inviting one of your exes to the wedding.”

  “Rath, they’re friends. What do you
want her to say, she’s not invited because her brother isn’t over her?”

  “I’m fucking over her.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it, not from the way you’re acting right now.”

  “I’m acting the way I am right now because I feel betrayed by my best friend and sister.”

  “It’s never been a side thing, you know that. Both of you hurt each other. She didn’t have any friends besides Julia. You can’t take that away from her.”

  I know he’s right. Julia and Vanessa were very close, especially when we were dating. I shouldn’t be surprised she’s invited to the wedding, but I am and I’m taking out my anger on Bram.

  This entire night has been one massive shitshow. From ogling my assistant all night, to being turned on like no other when she said come on my tits, and then not denying my attraction for her . . . I’ve fucked up so many times, I can’t even count them, and I hate myself for it.

  This has nothing to do with Vanessa and everything to do with the poor choices I’ve made in my life.

  First it was falling for Vanessa and making a move.

  Then it was ignoring her, trying to slow down the pace.

  Then it was hiring a woman I found attractive . . . again.

  Only to tell her hey, I think you’re hot too.

  Bad decisions. Bad decisions all around, and I can only imagine I’ll continue to make them because apparently, there’s no way to stop me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  CHARLEE

  “Why couldn’t I go home?” Linus asks as I unlock my apartment door and shove him inside.

  “They don’t microphone these apartments, do they?” I ask, sweeping the walls and looking up at the ceiling for any signs of bugging.

  “Are you kidding me with this apartment?” Linus asks, looking around. “Ugh, I should have taken the job when Rath offered it to me. I need to get Bram to buy me an apartment.”

  “Linus,” I snap. “Do you think Rath bugged this apartment?”

  “What? No, that would be completely illegal. Why are you worried about him bugging the apartment?” Linus walks over to the windows and huffs. “Seriously, these views are breathtaking. And you don’t pay rent? I am so working for the wrong guy.”