I don’t know how long I stood there with my jaw on the floor. I only managed to snap out of it when he asked, “May I come in?”
“What the hell did you do to your hair?” I gaped, taking him in rather than answering. Instead of that jocky, golden boy blond, it was, quite frankly, literally the color of a milky shit.
Mr. Stone smiled wryly, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
I snorted, “How could I not?”
“You didn’t say anything this morning,” he pointed out.
“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “When I was drugged up on crushed sleeping pills.”
Mr. Stone chuckled, “Fair point. It was a hair dye disaster and I shall now never trust such products again. Now, are you going to invite me in?”
I frowned, thinking about it. There wasn’t much to think of really though, no way was I letting my boss who wanted in my pants into my apartment where we would be completely alone. I like to think I could pull my own if need be but I was not delusional enough to think that I stood a chance against Mr. Stone’s developed muscles if it came down to it. “It’s late, Mr. Stone. I think you should go home.”
I was about to close the door, but Mr. Stone put his polished, imported leather shoe in the doorway.
“Mr. Stone,” I growled, already almost at my wit’s end.
The shit haired man simply grinned, “Are you really going to close your door in my face?”
“If you don’t move your foot, I’ll be closing my door on that,” I replied evenly before I remembered that I wasn’t talking to some pushy, obstinate guy, but my pushy, obstinate boss. Today was not my day.
I watched Mr. Stone warily, praying he didn’t fire me for being rude, although in my defense, I totally had the right to be kinda rude because I really did not want him in my apartment.
Mr. Stone laughed, which made me frown. I mean, at least he didn’t seem angry or in the mood to sack me, but laughter with him wasn’t always a good thing.
“You are not helping me lose interest in you, Jack,” Mr. Stone said once he calmed down into chuckles. My frown deepened. He may not have wanted to give me the boot just yet, but he still wanted to give me the dick. His dick.
I sighed wearily and sagged against the still partially closed door, “Please go home, Mr. Stone.”
“After you let me in,” he replied with a smirk. I narrowed my eyes at him. The way he had spoken, along with that insufferable smirk, hinted at a double meaning behind his words that was hard to miss. “Also,” he added, glancing to the side. “Your neighbor seems to be watching us with avid interest. I wonder how he would react if I were to get down on one knee and—”
With wide eyes, I opened the door fully and pulled Mr. Stone inside, closing it behind us. That neighbor was the biggest gossip in the building and I got hell when he saw Dan and I making out in front of my door. The entire building knew of my sexuality and apparent fiancé within the hour.
“—and tied my shoes,” he finished just as I turned around to face him.
My mouth dropped for the second time since his unwelcomed arrival. “You are an asshole,” I blurted out in disbelief. My obsessive worries about losing my job had momentarily left my mind.
Mr. Stone chuckled, “I didn’t think that would work as well as it did. And, speaking of assholes…”
I raised a brow, “Are you seriously going to use that as an opening for a pick up line?”
Mr. Stone barked out more laughter, his face turning red as he put one hand on his stomach and the other on his thigh to keep himself upright.
“Dear lord, Jack, you are really not helping with making me want you any less,” he gasped. “I was going to ask how you were doing, if you were alright now. The asshole I was referring to was the elusive drugger.”
I blinked, “Oh.”
Mr. Stone shook his head and smiled at me, “Checking up on you was my main reason for coming over. I already checked up on Carson.”
I blinked, “Oh.”
“What happened to your sharp tongue,” he teased. “I wouldn’t mind helping you look for it. My tongue is very good at finding things.”
I rolled my eyes before asking, “How did you even know where I lived? And why on earth did you dye your hair?”
“All employees have their addresses on their file. I just took a quick peek at yours and Carson’s,” he replied.
My phone went off, alerting me of a new text, so I walked past Mr. Stone to go to the kitchen, muttering along the way, “I’m pretty sure that’s some form of an invasion of privacy, CEO of the company we work at or not.”
I saw him shrug as he followed me to the kitchen. When I reached for my phone, he asked, “But in all seriousness, are you alright? Threw me in for quite a scare back there.”
I looked up briefly to see that he had lost his smile and was looking at me with concern. I set my phone back down after seeing that the text was just an advertisement and gave him a reassuring smile, “I’m fine and will be back to work tomorrow. The dosage we received wasn’t high enough to cause concern and after sleeping most of the day I feel almost as good as new.”
Mr. Stone nodded, “That’s good to hear but are you sure you don’t want to take a couple days off?”
I shook my head, “I’m good, honestly. Would you like anything to drink?” Carson had drilled that question into my mind over the years whenever I had someone over, unfortunately. It became a habit and I felt really uncomfortable if I ever forgot to ask. I had been trying to restrain the question but it forced its way out of my mouth. Damn Carson and his insistence on hospitality.
“Water would be fine,” he replied.
I nodded and went to the sink, grabbing a glass from the cupboard above and filling it up from the tap as Mr. Stone looked around. My apartment was pretty average, maybe a bit below. I could afford one of a better quality in a better neighbourhood but this one met my needs just fine and it was cheap.
“Thanks. Were you in the middle of dinner?” he asked as I gave him the glass. He had been looking at my almost empty plate on the counter.
“Yeah. I was planning on turning in early, as soon as I finished some work.”
Mr. Stone raised a brow at me, “You just got out of the hospital because you were unknowingly drugged with sleeping pills and work is still the first thing on your mind.”
I shrugged and leaned back on my hands against the sink, “I don’t see why you should be complaining. I’m earning my paycheck.”
“Mhmm,” Mr. Stone hummed, his eyes looking over the rim of the glass. He was staring at me intently and I only then realized that I was shirtless and my positioning was rather provocative and that the particular pajama pants I had on rode very low. I stood up as quickly as I could in a way that was still casual, crossing my arms over my chest.
“As you can see, I’m fine—”
“Fine is an understatement,” he mused.
“—so you don’t need to worry. And if something happens again, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t randomly pop by,” I said pointedly, as well as ignoring his little comment.
Mr. Stone stalked towards me and before I knew it I was trapped against the sink with his hands on either side of my hips.
“Mr. Stone,” I protested, my arms uncrossing to press my hands against his chest in a vain attempt to push him back.
“Cole,” he said. “I want you to call me Cole.”
I scowled at him, “And I want you to leave me alone. I do not want to have sex with you. How many times do I need to say it? Not only are you not my type, you are my goddamn boss!”
Mr. Stone grinned, “You are really hot when you’re angry.”
“Argh!” I threw my head back and groaned in frustration, hands clenching Mr. Stone’s shirt. My eyes had closed – stupidly, you should never lose sight of your predator – so I was completely unprepared for when lips latched onto mine.
“Mmph!” I tried to protest but predictably, and in an extremely clichéd manner, he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth. It was warm and wet and slick and he definitely knew how to use the agile muscle. His hands grabbed onto my hips and he pulled me up against himself rather than push me into the edge of the sink. Considerate of him even though he was kissing me when I had clearly said I wanted nothing to do with him in any sort of manner outside of a platonic business relationship between an employer and his employee.
If he was hoping I’d succumb to his somewhat impressive kissing skills and melt into his arms like in some trashy teen romance novel, he was sorely mistaken. I bit down on his invasive tongue.
Mr. Stone yelped and pulled back in shock and pain, holding his hand over his mouth and grimacing as his tongue no doubt hurt like hell.
“Get the hell,” I panted slightly, trying to catch my breath, “out of my apartment,” I finished with a heated glower.