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The door to my office opens without a knock, but the sound of those heels clicking in the usual cadence tells me who it is without me having to look up from my desk. “I sent out the evacuation notice to the people via all the stations, broadcasted it on the radio, and posted it on the internet.”

“Is there anything we’re missing?” I ask, lifting my head to see my impeccably dressed assistant. I came into the office in less than my usual suit and tie. It’s a bit relaxing to have my khakis and sneakers with a tee shirt on, given the conditions. I still have a dress shirt over, but just in case things get chaotic.

“No, sir,” she answers, scrolling on her tablet through her notes.

I hate it when she calls me that, but she must. After all, it’s a part of her job. It sends this tension through my shoulders and down my spine. I want to grab her tightly wound ponytail and send her to her knees, demanding she suck my cock. Instead, I crack my neck and ask, “What’s next on the agenda?”

She keeps her head down, refusing to give me the damn eye contact that I demand. Frankly, I don’t actually demand it, but I desire it. This is bullshit. Once she finds what she’s looking for on her device, she brings her amber gaze up to meet my hungry one. “The coast guard and sea patrol are unloading and sandbagging the area.”

“Let’s examine the area. I want to ensure that it’s done properly. It’s supposed to make landfall this evening,” I say.

“Yes, Mayor Payne,” she answers without a real smile. It’s always that subtle, polite one that drives me nuts. I can’t read it. One of these times, I’m just going to snap and spank her ass, so she’ll finally tell me what her problem is. It’s like a switch flipped the first day she came to work beside me.

“Is there anything else, sir?” Yes, strip out of your clothes and bend over my desk, so I can rail the fuck out of you. I want to empty my load inside your cunt, breeding that little pussy that’s been on my mind from the first day we met.

I stared down at her feet. I have to bite my cheek because those heels would look good behind my head, but they won’t work for the beach. “Do you have other shoes? Those aren’t going to work in the sand.”

“I have my workout bag with me.”

“Good, go get changed and meet me by the car.” She came into the office looking sexy as fuck, per usual, because I hadn’t given her the directive for anything else. I wish she’d give me some attitude or maybe challenge me. It’s been two years since I kept her father from prison and a year and a half since she’s started here, but it’s not like I’d have him locked up if she quits or gives me lip. Where’s the woman who I met two years ago?

“Yes, Sir.” She nods and disappears from my doorway, leaving a piece of me with her. Why is it only getting harder with every passing day? I thought I’d get used to her walking away, but nothing has gotten easier with time. The longing has only tripled, the lust amplified to the point of madness, and the heartache nearly excruciating.

I snatch what I need from my desk and toss my emotions back, reminding myself of my priorities. As the mayor, trying to screw my assistant isn’t a smart idea. She’s not at her desk when I pass by it, but I don’t bother to do what I usually do. I don’t touch her things. Not today. I can’t give in and brush my fingers along her things. No, I walk away with what little strength I have left. Frustration builds as I head to my vehicle in the parking garage.

It’s not long before she comes down to the garage with security by her side, holding the heavy security door open for her. Of course, who wouldn’t have held the door open for such a sexy thing like Taylor? But I want to break his fucking hands.

She’s in a tracksuit that hugs her fucking curves in all the right places. It should be considered sinful. I would have asked her to change, but then I’d have to explain that my dick is trying to bust out of my fucking khakis, and other fuckers will want to drill her hole like I want to.

My driver opens the door for her, and she gives him a sweet smile that I don’t miss; I’m too busy readjusting the painful position I’ve found myself in to offer a hand, so she slides in next to me as she always does, but this time, there’s a slight tinge of pink on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I questioned.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Your face is flush. Are you sure you are okay?” I ask.

“Yes, Mr. Payne. I’m perfectly well. I just rushed down here to meet with you and nearly forgot my bag, so I had to return to my desk.” That’s a very reasonable explanation, but I can’t shake that she’s got something else on her mind, and maybe it has to do with my driver.

“Oh.” She receives a text on her phone, and I wonder what it’s about. If it’s for me, she’ll tell me, so I don’t have to ask, which has worked great for my insane jealous streak, or so I believe. There’s no telling how many messages or calls she receives after hours.

“We shouldn’t be there too long. I want to ensure that sandbags are properly placed to do their job and minimize the flooding if possible.” She nods, making notes on her tablet, giving me zero eye contact again while always staying professional.

I focus on the road and not on my delicious assistant. The weather shift is visible, reminding me that I need to get my sister to act as well. She can be stubborn as a mule and so damn independent that she doesn’t need my advice, even when it’s helpful.

When I call her number, it rings a few times before she answers. “Honey, please tell me you’ve left town already or are almost leaving.”

“I am. Please stop worrying about me and just do your job. Be safe as well. I don’t want to lose you too.”

“As soon as everything is secure, I will take shelter.”

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Tell Taylor I love her too,” she adds in her sing-song voice.

“I will.” She ends the call.

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