His To Own (3 page)

When Laney brought him his coffee, he found himself smiling at her, smiling in general because he liked that she took care of him. He liked that she was so affected by him that she stumbled and tripped and knocked things over. He liked the look on her face when he smiled at her, nearly as much as the look on her face when he'd threatened to 'punish' her if she didn't stop making mistakes.

Michael shifted in his seat. He was hard. Again. He'd actually contemplated using the Price's private restroom to jerk off the other day, which had been the first time he'd realized he needed to get laid. It was possible this obsession with Laney was nothing more than him needing to scratch an itch. Doing so with Laney would be ill advised, given their working relationship. And Michael was a lawyer. He knew at least a dozen different sexual harassment laws any remotely questionable relationship between them would be violating.

He just didn't care. Which was probably more telling than all his fantasies combined.

Coffee. He needed coffee. Laney wasn't at her desk, which meant she was probably scurrying around somewhere, trying to hide some mistake she'd made from prying eyes, afraid she'd be fired for spilling iced tea on the floor or something equally ridiculous. Michael hadn't made his own coffee in days, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

If he was really lucky, the next person Laney bumped into would be him.

##

Committing oneself to staying upright and avoiding clumsy mistakes was a lot harder than one might think.

Laney gave herself a daily pep talk. Michael was just a man - a sexy, powerful, dangerously compelling man, to be sure - but she had to get it together. Just because her dating history was a parade of fumbling losers didn't mean she had to completely lose her mind over their polar opposite. Besides, Michael might find her attractive - and she was certain he did, given the way he looked at her, spoke to her, occasionally made excuses to touch her - but that didn't mean he was willing to be totally unprofessional and start something with her.

Which meant her penchant for stupid mistakes was endangering her job for no good reason. The logic was sound, but Laney had a very difficult time putting it into practice. What she did get very good at was hiding the fact that a mistake had been made in the first place. Coffee dumped all over a file? Good thing she'd stayed late the night before, making copies of all the week's pertinent files and storing them in her locked desk drawer. Bumping into colleagues in the halls, hard enough to leave a bruise? Laney took to keeping a huge box of expensive chocolate on her desk, freely open for anyone to grab a piece. No one tended to hold a grudge against the Candy Lady.

Laney glanced at her cell phone. It was time for Michael's afternoon coffee. She had never known a man who loved coffee so much. If she'd had the medical background, Laney would have figured out a way to set up some kind of IV to continuously feed the caffeinated liquid into his veins. Alas, she had done poorly in biology - girls who refused to dissect the fetal pig in tenth grade often did - and needles freaked her out. At least she could manage to please him the old fashioned way: pressing a series of buttons on an LCD screen in the right order.

There was also her secret ingredient, something she'd never tell him about. He insisted he liked his coffee black but he didn't know himself nearly as well as she did. Laney looked twice around the break room before she stood on her toes to move the box of straws no one used out of the way to reach where she'd hidden her stash. The coffee he knew about - she'd discovered it the Spring Break her roommate had convinced her a backpacking trip to Brazil was the new Fort Lauderdale. What Michael didn't know about was the second bag. The
secret
, secret stash that she'd discovered late one night during finals; now, she added it in liberal spoonfuls to both their coffees. The recipe for the spice mix was something she'd take to her grave.

She was especially keen to keep Michael from learning about it. He'd been
very
clear about not wanting anything but coffee and water in his cup. Even though he was quite happy to gulp it down by the quart, Laney couldn't completely disregard the idea that he'd be mad she'd gone against his wishes.

Maybe mad enough to
punish
her?

"I'd ask if you needed a step ladder, but the idea of you on a ladder is incredibly frightening."

A very undignified squeal left Laney's mouth. Her tentative grip on the straws faltered just enough to send the whole box careening to the floor, unused plastic tubes flying everywhere.

"Careful," Michael said, his big hands grabbing hold of her hips to steady her. They failed mise
rably. The touch of his hands (large, long fingered, capable - she could spend hours thinking about what she'd like them to do to her) gripping her, even though the thick layers of her suit jacket and skirt was enough to make her knees weak.

"Thank you," she whispered, unable to move away from him. He had unintentionally pinned her between his body
and the counter. He laughed lightly, his hot breath fanning against her ear. A delicious shiver ran through her body.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he joked, then cleared his throat and - reluctantly? - released his grip on her and backed a few paces away.

"I was making you coffee," she said, looking at him over her shoulder. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but it was as conflicted as she'd ever seen him.

"You always seem to know exactly what I need," he mused, shaking his head. "I'll see you in my office then. Five minutes?"

"Of course," she muttered, a sense of dread replacing the pleasant shiver he'd sent down her spine. Michael nodded once and left her in the break room amid the mess she'd made of the plastic straws.

Laney quickly grabbed the coffee and special
spices bag and set his coffee to brew. While the machine did the work she quickly cleaned up the straw mess, cursing her clumsiness under her breath the entire time. The coffee finished around the same time she did and Laney quickly stirred two generous tablespoons of her special spice blend into it and inhaled the resulting aroma with satisfaction. It was at least one thing he was sure to miss if he fired her.

At least
, she thought,
he'll never be able to duplicate the coffee.

##

Michael was losing it. The palms of his hands were tingling from where he'd touched - not even
her
, not really, just her clothing, but it was closer than he'd been before and it shook him. Her hips had felt right in his palms, as natural as breathing, and it had made him ache for more.
A lot
more. His dick had gotten hard when she made that surprised squeal when he caught her unaware; it had turned into solid titanium when he actually got his hands on her firm little body.

Now what was he supposed to do? His partners would fire her if they caught her wasting valuable company resources like plastic straws. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Whatever Price and Waters' problems
were with her, she was a good worker and she made orgasmic coffee. That was all he needed in an assistant. The fact that he wanted to kiss her and fuck her was an unintended - completely ill advised - bonus. He needed to calm her down, assure her she wouldn't be fired, and maybe - hopefully - get some of this sexual tension out in the open before it drowned him.

Hell, she'd probably rebuff him. She was a smart girl. If he said something too forward she would rightly tell him to cut it out and that would be a welcome bucket of cold water on his hormones.

Feeling slightly better now that he had a plan - however idiotic it may be - Michael responded to her timid knock on his office door with a firm, calm "Come in."

The aroma of the coffee preceded her, but as soon as she set it on his desk and returned to stand in front of him it was
her
scent that filled his senses;
her
scent he wanted to drink down. It was light and sweet, like oranges and cream. His mouth watered.

"Close the door," he instructed softly.

She paled, but did as he asked then returned to stand in front of him. "Michael," she began quietly.

"What are we going to do about this?" he asked, giving her a stern look.

"I'm so sorry," she began, but he held up a hand to forestall her.

"I've heard you apologize before," he said gravely, enjoying the hitch in her breathing at his words, the way her suit jacket fit so snugly across her breasts that he wondered how they didn't escape their hold. "What I want to know is how you intend to make it up to me?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said slowly.

"Are you really going to make me list your transgressions?" he asked, holding out a hand. "The numerous bodily injuries to the staff, the spilled coffee, the damaged paperwork - why, we must have gone through six ink cartridges this week alone to replace all the paper you've destroyed."

She gasped, obviously unaware that he knew about her clandestine trips to the copy room. There was nothing about Laney that had escaped his notice since she'd started working here.

"Please," she begged, "I'll do anything. I can't lose this job. I can't lose…" She took a deep breath. "I'll stay later to make up for it. You can dock my paycheck for the straws."

He laughed, because she was adorable and sexy and she really seemed to have no idea. "I have no interest in docking your paycheck," he said. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. The opportunity to make her an offer he was sure she would refuse.

"Then what can I do?" she asked, her voice desolate.

Perfect. "You could show me exactly how sorry you are," he said, his voice low, his tone leaving absolutely no doubt as to what he meant. Just in case, though - because Michael was nothing if not thorough - he brought his hand to her cheek, ran it down her jaw, her throat, her clavicle; finally, he let the tips of his fingers drift along the edges of her jacket. Touching her skin, even gently, was a thousand times more powerful than touching her through her clothes had been. His body hardened. "Look at what you've done now," he whispered, glancing down at his erection, which looked eager to escape the confines of his suit pants.

Laney followed his gaze and gasped, a soft, surprised sound that did nothing to cool his ardor. Michael swallowed a groan and grinned ruefully. His reaction to her was biological and she looked seconds away from slapping him or calling a lawyer - and there were plenty of them in this building - to sue for sexual harassment. He opened his mouth - to tell her he was kidding, or to thank her for the coffee - he'd never really know
what, because Laney shocked the hell out of him by gracefully sinking to her knees before him, her hands going to his hips.

Strong, delicate fingers slid along his belt until they grasped the buckle. His pants were unfastened in record time and before he could ask what she was doing or beg her not to stop she had pulled his pants and his boxers low on his hips; low enough that she could reach inside and grasp him in her tiny hands. Michael groaned
as she looked up at him, met his gaze and, without breaking it, leaned forward to place the tip of his cock between her plump, wet lips.

Well, this is unexpected
, he thought dumbly, before he stopped thinking entirely. Michael was all sensation and want as Laney's mouth sank further down his cock, as her tongue slipped and swirled around his length, as her hands eagerly stroked and squeezed everywhere her mouth could not reach. His hands found purchase in her wavy brown hair, fisting it the way he'd imagined a thousand times. She moaned around him at the contact, the vibration doing delicious things to his anatomy.

"God," he hissed, and she took him a little deeper; sucked a little harder. His fingers traced along her temples, the sides of her cheeks, delighting in the way they both stretched and hollowed to accommodate his cock. One of her small hands stroked up his thigh to his hip and back down again until she cupped his balls in her palm. She tugged gently and it had been so long since he'd gotten decent head - let alone whatever gift from heaven Laney was bestowing on him at the moment - that he nearly came without warning.
He manfully held on for a few more blissful moments before giving in.

"I'm coming," he muttered, giving her the polite five seconds to pull away; when she didn't, he used his grip on her hair to pull her head back slightly, to give him the best view of his cock slipping in and out of her mouth, her big blue eyes staring up at him - and he was gone. He came with a soft hiss, all too aware of just how many people were outside his office door, going about the business of the day.

Before he'd fully softened, as she was still gently lapping at his length, he pulled away from her mouth, gripped her shoulders and tugged until she was standing in front of him, wide eyed and starting to panic.

"Oh God," she muttered, but before she could go on, apologize or be embarrassed, he did what he'd wanted from the moment he met her: Michael kissed her, nothing soft or gentle about it. He filled her mouth with his tongue, much the way he wanted to fill every part of her. He could taste himself and he moaned, advancing forward until her back hit the desk.

"Up," he muttered, lifting her butt onto the desk with little help on her part.