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Because you don’t want to.
Then he snatched his fingers free from her mouth and stood, stepping back. She almost followed him, almost begged him to touch her again.
“Your job here isn’t at risk. You don’t have to let me spank you in order to keep it.”
Okay.
That was good. Right?
Of course it was. She didn’t want her job to be contingent on letting him spank her whenever she messed up.
Because she messed up a lot.
“But if you ever want to be spanked,” he added. “Well, that’s a different thing entirely.”
11
Want to be spanked? By her boss? The man who terrified her most of the time. And the rest of the time pissed her off.
Right. Whenever you aren’t imagining him naked, kissing you, touching you.
Fucking you.
She was in such trouble here.
Faith didn’t even know what to say. Because if she now protested that she didn’t want to be spanked, she was certain he’d know the truth.
He knew everything.
It was like he could see into her soul. Could ferret out all of her secrets.
Which was an asset in his job. But a freaking pain in the ass for her.
So, when a clap of thunder sounded, it was actually a relief for once.
But she still let out a small scream and looked around for a safe place to hide.
There was nowhere except under his desk. That’s where she dove, ignoring the look of shock on his face as she huddled under his massive, wooden desk.
Weirdly, she could catch hints of his scent. Something rich and deep. Cherries and smoked wood.
She was addicted to it. Wanted more of it. And it somehow made her feel safer. Her jittery stomach calmed.
“Little Blossom? Are you all right?”
She closed her eyes. He really was going to think she was nuts.
And why did he keep calling her Little Blossom?
“I’m, um, I . . . fudge knuckles.”
Reuben sighed. Great, she was irritating him.
“I should have just gone home!” she cried.
Fuck.
She slammed her hand over her mouth.
