Page 62 of Pure Recklessness

My gaze drifted from his huge muscular arms, down to his solid, thick thighs, between his legs, then back up again.

Wow.

As I got closer, I saw the beads of sweat trickling from his face, to his neck then disappearing down his chest.

I wanted to be those lucky droplets that got to slide down his abs and between his legs.

I bit my lip.

Then I reminded myself that I shouldn’t be thinking about my boss like this.

Bedroom fantasies were one thing. But right here, right now was real life.

If I wanted to be taken seriously, I had to act like a professional. I couldn’t ruin this opportunity by ogling and stupidly obsessing over a man I could never have.

My gaze flicked back to Mr Devlin. He punched the screen, increasing the speed then grunted loudly as he pushed himself harder like an athlete trying to beat a world record.

The sounds that were flying from his lips were feral and I couldn’t help but imagine what noises he might make when he…

For God’s sake. This was ridiculous.

I needed to get out of here before I embarrassed myself.

Just as I turned to leave, a deep voice called my name.

‘Eleanor!’

I spun around.

Crap. I’d hoped he wouldn’t see me.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Fantastic,’ he grunted, still pounding the treadmill.

Mr Devlin had a face like thunder. He looked even grumpier than usual. And that was saying something.

‘It’s just that you seem… angry?’

‘Oh really? The company’s in danger of another scandal, store closures, job cuts and a drop in revenue, but other than that, everything is tickety-boo.’

My eyes popped with shock. I knew the articles I’d read said their market share was down, but I didn’t realise things were that bad.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said quickly.

‘Fuck,’ he growled, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. I had no idea how he was able to talk whilst still pounding the treadmill that hard. The man was a machine. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this.’

‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I won’t tell anyone. Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Unless you can find us another reliable lingerie manufacturer to produce the volume we need for the same cost as our existing one and prevent our name being associated with their scandalous behaviour, then no.’

‘I’m sure I could think of something!’ I said quickly.

Mr Devlin frowned, turned to face me, then punched a button on the treadmill’s console.

The belt and his pace slowed before stopping.

‘I’m listening.’ He stepped off the treadmill, grabbed a towel, wiped his face, the back of his neck, then his chest.