Bossy Mr. Frosty Read online

  I’m not necessarily out for revenge, but I do feel like he owes it to me in some way. He took away my future and my happiness, so it’s only fair he gives it back. I can suck it up and work for him. The man’s a genius and I can appreciate that. His personality needs work, though.

  “Take a seat,” he grunts out as he walks over to the door and closes it.

  I guess I’m not fired.

  The finality of the door clicking shut sends a thrill straight to my dick. When I came to work here, I never expected to be so physically drawn to the cold bastard. I was prepared to go to war with him, proving how capable I could be. Instead, I got into a stare down match with him that ended with me seconds from giving him a hand job in his office.

  Way to prove my worth.

  I turn away from him, making my way over to his desk. He sucks in a sharp breath. We both take our seats. His back is straight and he steeples his fingers. Adrian reminds me of a gargoyle—kind of scary and motionless at times. Also kind of beautiful to look at when he’s perched in his domain looking down on everyone he sees as insignificant. His blue eyes are light and cold when you see pictures of him, but in person, they seem to be almost gray. They burn with intensity that I feel all the way down to my toes.

  He’s hot.

  There’s no other way to describe Adrian Frost.

  I’m only lacking an inch or two on his six-foot frame, but everything about him is bigger. Based on what I’d observed trying to escape his slacks, that is bigger too. A thousand questions assault me all at once and none of them have to do with this job.

  Is he gay too?

  Does he have tattoos hiding under that suit of his?

  Is he as commanding in bed as he is in the office?

  Would he let me suck his dick?

  He clears his throat. “Let’s start over. Why didn’t Connie introduce me if you’re our new hire?”

  Straight to business mode and ignoring this crackling heat between us. As much as I want my boss to fuck me, I’m not stupid. This job is my dream job. Well, almost. I didn’t dream of being an assistant to the world’s meanest boss, but I did dream of proving myself at the biggest magazine in the city.

  “Connie was quite…descriptive in my job duties and expectations. She mentioned you’ve been through many assistants in the past year. When she took me by your office to meet you, one peek inside was all it took for me to realize you were swamped. I asked her to just get me started and I would take care of you.” I grin at him. “I’m slaying it so far, right?”

  His jaw clenches. “I tried to fire you.”

  “Tried,” I say with a chuckle. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, silly.”

  He bristles at my words. “I’m not silly. Stop calling me that.”

  “That’s what makes it funnier,” I admit. “Your non-silliness, silly.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a long sigh. “I don’t have time for games. This is a mistake. I’m not—”

  “Are you sexist? You don’t think a man could service you like a female could?” Though my words are meant for the job, his head snaps up, blue-gray eyes flashing with heat.

  “I never really considered it before,” he utters, frowning. “I’ve always had women. Never a man. The idea does intrigue me, though.”

  I discreetly try to adjust my dick in my slacks. This man doesn’t even realize his effect on me. If he’s not just talking about the job, then maybe he’s realizing he might be into more than women. It’s possible he’s into me.

  “Women are great,” I tell him. “I’m glad you’re taking a chance on a man, though. I promise I won’t disappoint. I’m eager to please.”

  His lips tug on one side, like he might actually smile. “I like that.”

  We remain in silence, the air laced with attraction and curiosity, which I hope isn’t one-sided on my part.

  “Listen,” I utter, leaning forward. “I’m thrilled to work at this magazine. I know I can do a great job. I practically grew up in the industry.”

  His ice sculpted features melt into something softer. I crave to crawl over his desk, straddle his waist, and touch the expression on his face.

  “Perhaps you can teach me a thing or two then, huh?” His brow lifts in question.

  “I’ve read your bio. You made all this,” I say with a wave of my hand, “into a household name. You’re incredibly savvy when it comes to the biz.” I flash him a wink. “But I’m still sure I could teach you something.”

  He burns his blue-gray stare into me, cutting holes into my flesh and probing inside. Below the surface of my playfulness is an anxiety that lurks. The uncertainty of my future. I lived for my parents’ magazine, and with it gone, I’m lost, trying to find my way again.

  “How old are you?” he asks in a raspy voice.

  “Eighteen.”

  He clenches his jaw, swiveling around in his chair to face the window. “Young. No college?”

  Shame heats my cheeks. “It wasn’t in the plan, though now I wonder if I should have gone in case my plans fell through, because they totally did.” I let loose a sigh. “I didn’t grow up dreaming of being an assistant to the owner of New York’s most successful magazine. I had dreams of taking over my parents’ magazine.”

  His chair spins around so fast, the air nearly knocks his file from the desk. I place a hand on it to keep it from hitting the floor.

  “Are you spying on me? To learn insider secrets?” he demands, fury morphing his handsome features.

  Feeling defensive, I growl back at him. “No, Mr. Frost. You offered them more money than they could refuse to buy their magazine. They sold to you and after you mined all their clients, it went to the bottom of your trash bin along with all the other competition you cannibalized.”

  His features grow expressionless, hiding whatever he’s feeling. I take the time to study his gorgeous face. Essentially, he’s an enemy to me, but I can’t deny the attraction I have toward him. There’s an intensity about Adrian Frost that sucks me in. I want to inhale him and taste him and touch him.

  “It’s snowing.” He absently rubs at his neck. “When you leave, be careful.”

  “Leave where?” I choke out, hating the sting in my eyes.

  “Home? Your new job? I don’t know.”

  I shake my head, biting on my lip hard so I don’t cry. When Mom and Dad told me they sold the magazine without giving me a chance to try and get a loan to buy it from them, I cried. Like a child. Not in front of them, of course, because I could tell they felt guilty. No, I saved all my gut-wrenching tears for when I got to my room.

  “Mr. Moore,” he says softly, his brows pinching together. “I’m sorry—”

  “Please,” I beg. “Give me a chance to prove myself.”

  “It’s clear you have animosity toward me for the transaction that took place—”

  “Transaction?” My voice is shrill. “You took my future from me.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticks and his eyes narrow.

  “I’ll be serious. I can do this job better than anyone you could ever find. You’re paying me pennies compared to my worth.” I reach over the desk, grabbing his large, firm hand. “Let me show you how good I can be for you.”

  His face turns crimson again, but he makes no moves to extricate his hand from mine. As much as I’d love to flirt with him and taunt him about what are clearly confusing feelings for him, getting this job is more important.

  “I’m going to regret this,” he grumbles to himself.

  I squeeze his hand. “No, you won’t. I promise.”

  Finally, he slowly pulls his hand from mine, as though he doesn’t really want to. We’ve crossed the boundaries for normal boss and employee relationships, which has me wondering just how hard I’m going to fall for this man.

  Because I will.

  Nothing has ever mattered to me except the magazine. No boyfriends or friends or hobbies. Just the success I knew I could achieve. So for me to jeopardize the thing I love most by
touching my boss and holding on to his hand and flirting, it’s saying something.

  It’s saying I like him.

  Huge problem.

  “And, uh, what happened earlier,” I say, clearing my throat, “was just a lapse in judgment. I’m a professional, Mr. Frost.”

  He doesn’t remark on my words, simply studies me for a long beat before giving me a clipped nod. “Very well then.”

  I grin as I stand up. His eyes fall to my dick and widen. It’s not my fault he’s so damn hot that I can’t seem to keep my dick in check around him.

  “The tight pants go against dress code,” he grumbles. “Find some better fitting ones by tomorrow.”

  I don’t tell him all my pants fit like this. It’s just the style I like. He’ll get over it.

  “Sure thing, Boss.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Mr. Frosty then?”

  “Adrian will do.” An almost-smile ghosts over his lips. “And though I’m not silly, I don’t mind that one as well.”

  Yep, I’m doomed.

  I’ve never wanted a guy so instantaneously and so fully in all my life. With him being nearly forty and me just eighteen, it’s a bad idea under normal circumstances. But, now that he’s also my boss, he’s pretty much in an untouchable category.

  But you already touched him.

  Several times in fact.

  “Get to work, Mr. Moore,” he says, wiping his almost smile from his face. “Earn your keep for at least today. I can’t promise I won’t fire you tomorrow.”

  “It’s Rylan,” I throw back, “and once you realize how much I can help, you’ll never fire me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ll try and keep me forever.”

  His features soften once again. I can almost imagine his lips hovering over mine as he takes my ass, staring at me as though I’m the most precious thing in his world.

  God, I am such a hopeless romantic.

  Unfortunately, there’s no room for romance at this magazine.

  I need to keep my eyes on the road ahead of me. I just wish it wasn’t so hard now that Adrian Frost has stepped directly in my path.

  Three

  Adrian

  Rylan was right.

  He is good. Really good.

  And also distracting as fuck.

  I made it through my meetings all week easily enough, but any time he walked into my office to bring me files I didn’t even know I needed or to bring me a coffee refill, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  This is a problem.

  He’s a man.

  Since when do I like men?

  I don’t. Quite honestly, I don’t like anyone. I’m not sure if that’s a thing or not. Never have I had such an overwhelming attraction to someone like I do with Rylan. When he walks by, I drink him in, inhaling him and checking out whatever body part I can.

  The office has long since closed for the day, all employees gone. I’m left alone, burning the midnight oil as per usual when I hear it.

  A growl.

  So I’m not alone.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry,” Rylan says back. “I missed lunch. My stomach is not happy.”

  Guilt claws its way up inside me. He’s only been here a week and he’s more than proven himself. He works through lunch every day and is the last one besides me to leave. After the first day, I spoke with Dante, unnerved by my new employee. He suggested I get to know my assistant a little and maybe I won’t run this one off. At first, I was resistant, clinging to the line that clearly needed drawing between employer and employee, but as the week wore on, Dante’s words dug their claws into me.

  I want to know more about Rylan.

  I’m insanely curious to know what he likes and what he doesn’t. Why he doesn’t own pants that aren’t skintight. How come he doesn’t know how to use an iron. His dreams and nightmares. All of his quirks and habits. Favorite foods and colors and smells.

  His smell is my favorite.

  It’s because I want to get to know my assistant better in order to make his working for me more pleasant that I make the decision to have him over for dinner.

  Not his smell.

  That’s just a bonus.

  “Mr. Moore,” I call out, my voice husky. “Can you come here?”

  Seconds later, he appears in the doorway, handsome and smirking. That smirk fucking kills me. Twice this week, I’ve gone home and shamelessly jerked off just thinking about his plump, dark pink lips. I’m not one for self-pleasure. It doesn’t appeal to me. Yet, any time I see or think about Rylan, I have the urge to relieve the overwhelming desire building inside me.

  “You’re hungry.” My words are clipped and cold. “You need to eat.”

  “I will,” he assures me, his brown eyes bright with amusement. “Just finishing up something for Tad that he needs Monday.”

  “Five minutes and then we’re leaving.”

  “We?” Confusion mars his beautiful face. “As in together?”

  I drop my gaze to my desk. “You’re coming to my apartment for dinner. My friend Dante thinks I need to get to know you better.”

  “I see,” he says, a smile in his voice, though I can’t be sure because I refuse to look at him. “There are tons of restaurants nearby. Why your apartment, Mr. Frosty?”

  Finally, I meet his stare. “I want to do it in private.”

  His brow arches high. “It?”

  “Get to know you,” I grunt out. “I don’t want to be rushed.”

  “It’s Friday night. Maybe I had plans outside of work.”

  “Cancel them,” I bark and then wince at my tone. “Please.”

  He chuckles. “Since you sort of asked nicely, I’ll tell Mom we can catch a movie another night.” He turns away, giving me a nice view of his ass. “Let me email Tad one last thing and then change. I’ll be ready to go in just a few.”

  While he finishes up, I pack my laptop in my messenger bag and tidy up my office. Once I have my coat on and bag slung over my shoulder, I close my office door, locking it behind me. Rylan’s desk is neat, everything all put away for the weekend, but he’s nowhere to be found. I wait impatiently because the desire to have him all alone at my place is becoming a need I can’t control. I want it with every fiber of my being.

  He exits the bathroom and my mouth goes dry. No longer wearing his business work attire, he suddenly appears much younger than his eighteen years. He’s now wearing a fitted black long-sleeved Henley, holey jeans, black Converse tennis shoes, and a black beanie. All of his clothes are ridiculously tight. He’s a walking, talking goddamn temptation.

  Since when, Adrian?

  Since when are you this consumed by anyone, especially a guy?

  Since never, which is why I can’t seem to keep my head about me whenever he’s near.

  “I like this,” I blurt out. “Your clothes.”

  His lips kick up on one side as his cheeks tinge pink. “You do?”

  “Yes. It suits you better than the wrinkled dress shirts.”

  A laugh tumbles out of him. “A compliment chased by an insult.”

  My chest tightens in a torturous way. As though it physically pains me to think I hurt his feelings. I step closer to him until he’s forced to look up at me. Breathing him in this close is nearly too tempting to ignore. When his lips part, I can’t help but reach my thumb up to touch the bottom one.

  “I like the dress shirts too,” I amend. “I like looking at you all the time, but especially now.”

  His brown eyes search mine, his brows pinching together. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

  Panic shoots through me, nearly immobilizing me. I’ve fantasized having him in my apartment now as I cook for him, so the idea of him not coming now is crushing. I cradle his cheek with my palm, imploring him with my eyes.

  “It seems like a terrible idea, Rylan, but it also feels like the best one I’ve had in forever.”

  Leaning forward, I inhale him, unable to keep from doing it. His scent has overtaken the en
tire office. I smell him everywhere and I fucking love it. I want his scent in my car, in my home, and in my bed.

  “You’re sniffing me, silly.”

  “I like how you smell.”

  He stands on his toes, slightly brushing his lips over mine. “I taste even better.”

  I’m about to test his claim and crash my lips to his, but he pulls away, taking his intoxicating scent with him.

  My dick is straining in my slacks, but I don’t try to hide it. Rylan is clearly just as affected as I am. Boldly, I stare at his erection as he pulls on his coat. Once he has his backpack on his shoulders, he gives me a sexy little chin lift.

  “Ready?”

  I stalk over to him, grabbing onto his hand. “I am.”

  Rather than pull out of my grasp, Rylan lets me hold his hand. It thrills me getting to touch him. I don’t hold hands with people. I don’t hug. I don’t kiss. I don’t fuck. I work. That’s what I do. I work.

  But Rylan makes me want to touch and kiss and fuck and feel.

  His thumb strokes over my hand and he shoots me a curious stare. I don’t look away, instead pinning him with a probing look of my own. I’m not sure what he’ll find looking at me, but what I find looking at him is peace. Happiness. An easy feeling that creeps inside me like a fog, making me realize I’ve been tense my entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Maybe there is no shoe.

  No drop.

  Instead, a fall.

  A glorious, freeing fall into something deep and warm and soul-consuming. All I have to do is let go. Close my eyes and be.

  We take the elevator down and stride through the lobby to get outside. It’s snowing something fierce, both of us wincing against the battering cold. I usher him over to my parking spot on the street, hitting the fob on my keys as we near. I open the door for him and take his backpack to toss in the back. Once he’s safe inside, I throw my messenger bag in the back and then join him up front.

  “Are we grabbing takeout on the way?” he asks, shivering against the cold. I chide myself for not coming out here before him to warm it up.