HIS SECRETARY'S JACKET

   Asher was out of his seat, and I hold my breath, watching the way his shirt clung to him like a second skin.

 Jesus.

Why did his shirt have to look so devastatingly good on him??

I swallow, eyes jumping to his face before they had the chance to dip below his waist. He doesn’t even give me the chance to imagine what he looked like below the belt, not like I haven’t done that plenty of times.

 “Give me a minute.” he says before leaving.

I exhale, finding myself able to breathe again.

 What do I do? What do I do??

We could go back to work, I mean that’s why we’re here, but do I really want to go back to work? There are plenty of things I can think of that we could do here, right now.

 Again, I am setting myself up for disappointment.

Grounding technique… what’s his name? Asher Hall.

The number of times I’ve moaned that name in the darkness of my room. Why did he have such a moan-able name??

 Ugh.

Focus, Carson.

Next question, he’s twenty eight, two and eight.

Five years older than I am.

 Which means he has plenty of experience.

I shake my head at my thought process. Few months ago, this explanation wouldn’t fly with me, I would have felt disgusted.

 Next question… what was the next question?

He returns to the office and I am painfully hard. My cheeks flame in the dark. Thank the heavens for the dark, only i know just how hard I am.

 “We’re the only ones on this floor. I confirmed.” he says walking to the cabinet by his desk, his smooth, take charge voice is not helping.

 There was a time I recorded his voice and he had been talking business meetings, but I had the best sleep after touching myself to his voice.

 “I checked for flashlights, and came up short. So we have to ration the lights, since we have no idea how long we’ll be here for.” his voice is slightly deeper from bending.

I swallow thickly.

 God help me survive this.

“Sir?”

“Hm?” I sound completely dazed,

He sighs.

“The storm is bad. We have to prepare for it.” he says, getting up, in his arms are hot chocolate packets.

 My favorite drink. I had no idea we had some in the cabinets.

“Uh.. okay.” I say uselessly, eyes still stuck on the packets.

He moved smoothly to the kitchenette in the office, and turns around to see me standing there, staring.

 He beckons for me to join him at the station with his head,

“Oh, yeah right. The torch.” I murmur, the back of my throat is parched.

At this point he would notice that I was checking him out.

“Can you call me Carson like you did earlier?” I ask when I reach him, keeping a small distance between us so I didn’t accidentally touch him and set off something I couldn’t take back.

 He pauses, hand on the mug.

“The water isn’t as hot anymore, so you can only have one of these.”

So he was ignoring my request then. When he called me by my name earlier, he had surprised me, and now he doesn’t want to do it anymore.

 “What about you?”

He glances at me quickly, eyes quickly going to the cup in front of him.

 “Here’s your chocolate sir.”

I scoff.

“I just said you could call me Carson.”

He says nothing, eyes betraying nothing. Like always. A small ball of irritation sparks to life in my chest.

 I wonder briefly if my father told him anything about me, and if he shared the same views as my father.

 “I’m not taking it until you call me by my name.”

Under his eye twitches but he doesn’t let go of the cup, and doesn’t say anything.

So, that’s how he wants to play it then.

 I leave my phone on the table, returning to my seat, I drop into it, hands crossed on my chest. I am well aware that sulking to your secretary does not look very superior, or classy, but I can’t help it.

 “You’ll catch a cold, sir.”

I want to tell him this is my favorite weather, and such I don’t get colds from it, but I keep my mouth shut, since I am you know, not talking to him.

 To reiterate this, I look away.

He sighs.

“I shouldn’t have done that before. You’re my boss…”

“Boss’s son.” I correct, then bite my tongue before looking outside the window.

More snow was coming down.

That’s my favorite thing about Cold water, the biting weather, it was almost always wet here, we got the extreme types of those weathers.

 He inhales loudly.

“Drink your hot chocolate Carson, it’s getting cold.”

My head whips in his direction, a shiver crawling up my spine at the mention of my first name.

 The second time he’s called me by my name.

It feels so fucking good.

I wish I recorded it.

 My heart has more than a thousand little butterfly wings flapping against my heart in my chest.

 “Will… Can you call me that every time we’re alone?” I ask, shifting in my seat as I look up at him.

 He stares at me for a second too long and I bite my lip in anticipation, my hand on my legs, covering the mould in my pants.

 “I don’t want you to catch a cold, drink up.”

I bite my lip at the tone he used.

No room for argument, just done deal.

 Before I know it, I am drinking the warm liquid, keeping my eyes on his the entire time as the sweet stickiness slides down my throat.

 There’s a flash of something in his grey irises.

It makes me shiver.

He walks back to his seat, retrieving his jacket from the back of his seat, he walks back to me.

 And now I know I am not telling him about the one fact that I don’t catch colds.

Walking behind my desk, I keep my eyes on him, mouth shut.

The sound of his shoes are loud against the marbled floors, rivaling the sound of my beating heart.

 My breathing is slow when he reaches me.

He smells so good, rich and masculine.

 Leaning forward, he drapes his jacket on top my shoulders, assaulting my nostrils with the fragrance of him.

 I almost melt into the scent.

“Does it feel better?” his voice is slightly husky,

Instead of speaking, I nod. I don’t trust myself not to be a mess, a moaning mess.

 “Words, Carson.”

“Yes, it feels better.”

Was I always so obedient?? I have no idea.

But I know if he told me to do anything, in that voice, and I mean anything, I would do it without hesitation.

 He walks back to his desk, and when he plops into his seat, i realize he may be cold.

“What about you?”

Without looking up, he flips through the pages, using the light from my phone, he carries on working.

 “You’re my priority, Carson. As long as you’re fine.”

That reminds me of one Eva’s grounding techniques.

He was just doing the job his boss asked him to do.

Carson is the money maker, make sure he’s on his hundred percent at all times.

 The hot chocolate, the jacket, all of it was his job.

I rip it off me, storming up to him, he looks up at me.

With his glasses, he is so beautiful, so perfect.

 I want to kiss him.

“You’re treating me like a kid.”

He pulls off his glasses from the side, making me swallow.

Why does he have to look so hot just taking off his glasses?

”I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“What I mean, Asher, is that, you think of me as a kid. Your bosses kid.”

He looks at me slowly, eyes doing a slow rake from my chest to my face, I am breathing hard from the rant.

He exhales, palms on the table, he pushes himself upright.

“First of all, Carson,”

I swallow at the mention of my name.

His thumb reaches out, gingerly, slowly, a brush on my skin, he wipes the stain on my upper lip from the chocolate.

My mouth drops open soundlessly.

He pops his thumb in his mouth and I am sure I came a little in my pants.

 “I have never thought of you as a kid.”

He meets my eyes, the air cackles with electricity that crawls up my spine, then races straight for my dick, giving me a pleasant jolt.

“Never.”