“You’ve read my book three times?”

“Seven,” he said. “And I’m not done. You have a lot of errors you need to know about.”

“It’s already published.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He was smiling. “You need to know about each and every one of them.” He clasped my hand. “Why did you change where we first had sex? It was against the bookshelf, but in your book it’s on my desk.”

“My editor thought that was a better place.”

“My eyes skew towards a lighter blue, not dark blue.”

“Another editorial change.”

“We fucked on way more than one international flight, and you sucked my cock for the first time in New York, not a stopover hotel.”

“Once again, editorial.”

“I also don’t ever recall saying that I loved you that soon in our relationship.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I said what we had was messy and I liked it.”

“So, you don’t love me?” I asked.

“That’s not the point.”

“Care to get to it?” I mocked his voice, and he smiled again.

“The point is, I haven’t seen or fucked you in months, and I haven’t seen or fucked anyone else in months either.” He pressed his lips against mine. “And that, no one else will ever compare. I miss and I love you, and only you. And most of all, I miss fucking you.”

“You really could’ve left that last part out...”

“No, it was very much needed.” He wiped one of my stray tears away. “I love you, Gillian. No matter what, and I think we need to leave this party. Now.”

“Not until I ask you a few questions. I need to know what type of man I’m dealing with tonight.”

“The type that’s going to fuck you the second we make it to the elevator, the type that’s going to take you to his place after that and fuck you all over again.”

I blushed, but remained still. “Why did you take me off your visitors’ list at the hospital?”

“I didn’t want you to see me that way,” he said, looking genuine. “Plus, you’d already been there two weeks in a row and I was fine. I wanted you to worry about yourself.”

“Are you the anonymous person who’s been upgrading all my flights to first class for all my recent book signings?”

“Of course not,” he said, smirking. “Only someone who still loves you would do something like that.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re very welcome. Is that the end of your questions?”

“No, I have two more.”

“I’ll answer one more.”

“Fine. Is this the part where you propose?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He pressed his mouth against mine and kissed me so hard and reckless that I nearly lost my balance. Then he squeezed my hand and began to lead me toward the elevator. “This is the part where we start a new chapter, one we can write together.”

**The End**

NAUGHTY BOSS

SYNOPSIS

He definitely wasn’t supposed to get that email ...

Subject: My Boss.

Have I already told you that I hate my boss today?

Sexy as hell or not, this pompous, arrogant, ASSHOLE asked me to pick up his dry cleaning the second I walked through the door. Then he told me that I needed to take his Jaguar to a car wash that was ten miles outside of the city, but only after I needed to stand in a never-ending line to buy some type of limited, hundred-dollar watch.

I honestly can’t wait to see the look on his face two months from now when I tell him that I’m quitting his company and that he can kiss my ass. KISS. MY. ASS.

All those former fantasies about him kissing me with his “mouth of perfection” or bending me over my desk and filling me with his cock are long over. OVER.

Your bestie,

Mya

PS—Please tell me your day is going better than mine ...

Subject: Re: My Boss.

No, you haven’t already told me that you hate your boss today, but seeing as though you’ve sent me this email directly, I know now ...

Yes, I did ask you to pick up my dry cleaning the second you arrived to work to day. (Where is it?) And I did tell you to take my Jaguar to the car wash and pick up my thousand-dollar watch. (Thank you for taking five hours to do something that could be accomplished in two.)

You don’t have to wait two months from now to see the look on my face when you tell me you’re quitting. I’m standing outside your office at this very moment. (Open the door.)

No comment on your “fantasies,” although I highly doubt they’re “long over.”

Your boss,

Michael

PS—Yes. My day is definitely going far better than yours...

THE BOSS

Michael

Manhattan, New York

The last time my face was plastered across the front page of a tabloid, the headline was at least somewhat true. What I was currently staring at in this moment was beyond far-fetched, even for someone with a scandalous and sex-filled reputation like mine.

Playboy CEO of Leighton Publishing Leaves Woman Crying in Hotel Lobby After Hours of Loud Sex on Balcony

I flipped through the pages of The National Enquirer, skimming the details from the so-called “trusted source” while resisting the urge to roll my eyes. According to them, I’d had sex with this woman in the penthouse suite of a hotel and simply put her out so I could have sex with someone else. And according to the woman who’d clearly concocted this bullshit story, she said my exact words to her were, “Thank you for letting me fuck your pussy. It’s time for me to fuck someone else’s now. You can see yourself out.”

There was no mention of the fact that this very same woman was recently convicted for lying to a grand jury in a theft case, but tabloids were never interested in the truth. They only wanted to sell papers.

I managed to get through the entire article without a reaction, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the last line: Rumors are now swirling that the ‘naughty’ CEO engages in sex with two different women for every day of the week. He apparently keeps a private schedule for his sex-life.

I shook my head.

It’s only one different woman for every day of the week...

Tossing the tabloid into the trash, I remembered to send a generic text to the women I planned on seeing this week. There was Lisa on Tuesday, Mariah on Wednesday, Hannah on Thursday, and Tiffany on Friday.

Michael: Looking forward to seeing you this week.

Their responses came in exact succession.

Lisa: Looking forward to seeing you, too :)

Mariah: Can’t wait to fuck you again ...

Hannah: Let me know if you want to change it to an earlier day :)

Tiffany: Anytime :)

With a few minutes to spare until my six o’clock meeting, I set a box of potential front-list novels on my desk. I made two pots of coffee and opened new notepads. Then I impatiently waited for my executive assistant.

I’d long given up on her arriving early to meet me for anything because she was always five minutes late. She literally lived right across the street from the building and she never ceased to amaze me with her endless excuses as to why she couldn’t be on time.