Tied Up by the Boss (Office Kink #2)(5)

He eyed me lazily. “Be in my office at seven thirty sharp every day to go over your schedule. If you’re late, you’ll get more work. Expect to stay well into the evening until you’re dismissed. Am I clear?”

What had I done? Putting myself under the thumb of a hard-ass like Morgan, one punishment away from getting canned. “Yes . . . sir,” I remembered.

“You’re dismissed. See you in the morning.”

I got up, meaning to say something, anything. But this man had rendered me speechless. For the second time today.

I made it to the door before Morgan called out. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I searched my mind and turned back toward him. “Thank you. Sir.”

And he actually smiled. The smug ass.

I willed myself not to talk back and left his office. I just needed to survive through the Axion project. I could do this, right?





Chapter Three





Morgan





I left the office late that night. I’d been mulling over whether or not this arrangement with Parker was the best decision. Firstly, I wasn’t sure Parker could change. The lad was in his early twenties. It took years to change and grow. Would a couple of weeks do anything for him? Secondly, was I even the proper person to help him? How would I get anything out of this? What was Trent thinking?

I’d wanted to scream at Parker when he got down on his knees, telling him to get up and grow a pair. No man was worth getting on his knees for. And yet, in that moment, I wanted to help him more than anything.

Christ, I wanted him in that moment. Seeing him down there, his deep blue eyes pleading and . . . hungry. That stirred something deep and carnal that throbbed in my very center. When I lifted him up, I could’ve pulled him right to me and devoured him.

But no, he was my employee. Nothing like that could happen. Why was I still thinking about him and his damn lips?! Maybe because I’d never seen his mouth slack. It had always been talking or in the form of a smirk. I wondered what it would feel like pushing my tongue deep into that mouth. What the bloody hell was I saying?! I despised men like him. Parker was exactly the type of lad I avoided.

Regardless, this whole arrangement would be an exercise in control, not only for him.

“Is that you, Morgan?” My mum’s voice shattered all erotic thoughts in an instant.

“Yes, Mum.” I closed the door to my flat and walked through the foyer to the living room where she sat in her recliner watching the telly. I leaned down to kiss her cheek, the tendrils fallen from her chignon brushing against my forehead. She smiled back at me with soft eyes.

“Good evening, my dear,” she said, patting my hand as I rested it on the armrest. “I don’t like it when you have to work late.”

“I know. But for these next couple of weeks, I have a very important project that requires late nights.”

“A shame. I’d like to see you get out and have some fun.”

I chuckled and tossed my keys on the counter. “Do we need to have the doctor check your memory? I’m Morgan, your youngest son. The one who’s never been one to go out on the town and party it up.”

“Oh stop with that nonsense.” I could hear the intermittent clack of her knitting needles. “You’re too young to be acting like me.”

“I don’t act like you. I work all day.” I loved teasing her. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out what looked like a casserole.

“You cheeky monkey.” Her gray head moved back and forth near the top of the chair. “I’d work too if I didn’t have this bleeding tube stuck in my nose.” She sighed. “But I’d still find time to have some fun. You work too hard, Morgan. For god’s sake, you’re here talking to me instead of a nice bloke that could make you a real dinner and kiss you at the door.”

“Ugh, Mum. I don’t need a wife from the 1950s.”

“Fine, then a bloke to shag when you get home.”

I gagged. “Mum, I’m trying to work up an appetite here, if you please.” I ran the microwave. “Where would you go if I had a bloke here anyway?”

“I have my own room, you numpty. I’d merely turn up the telly.”

I shook my head. “My, are we feisty tonight?” I grabbed a fork. “Can I get you something? Tea? A biscuit?”

“No thank you.”

I walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Did Sarah come over today?”

“Yes, she cleaned up a few things after my breathing treatment.”

“You didn’t nag her about the dusting, did you?”

“No. Only the washing.”

“Mum,” I said in a warning tone. Sometimes Mum got too comfortable with Sarah. Sarah was our home health nurse, but her willingness to oblige my mum’s affinity for a neat and tidy home was purely voluntary.

“I was nice about it.”

I smirked. “How are you feeling?”

“As good as can be expected for a seventy-nine-year-old woman with COPD.”

I leaned back and watched her turn to look at me. Her hazel eyes were watery, but she still had a smile on her wrinkled face. It had been nearly five years since she came to live with me. She’d moved to the States about twenty years ago, after my father passed away, and lived with my brother and his family for a while. But after the COPD diagnosis, it was easier for her to stay with me, since I lived close to the hospital. My brother’s family was too chaotic for the likes of my reserved English mum. She preferred peace and quiet rather than noise and bedlam. But I knew she got lonely with my long hours.