Maliciously Obedient (BBW Erotic Romance) by Julia Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

his first day at the job. He liked both.
    What he'd prefer most, though, was if she wore nothing at all. Those curves, that ass, the ample body that seemed poised for so much more, all soft and swelling. The outer packaging of a mind he was coming to respect. A body that he wanted to savor.
    The resemblance to Catherine Zeta-Jones was uncanny. Did she ever do any nudes scenes in her films? He'd have to check. No, he'd have to ask Jeremy – he would know.
    His khakis and cheap oxford seemed out of place, suddenly. Pausing, he told himself that this was one for Mike – not Matt – to handle. It was safe to stand now, so he did, taking a few steps around his desk and facing her, two feet feeling like five miles. A faint odor of something sweet, like vanilla, tickled his nose.
    “You're projecting your insecurities onto me, Lydia.” Wide eyes met his. Aha! He was right. “Just because some part of you doesn't feel like being an administrative assistant is 'good enough' and that people downgrade your intelligence doesn't mean I'm one of those people.” He huffed, a bit incensed on her part, for no reason he understood. “That's the lazy way.”
    The slope of her mouth changed, jaw jutting less, tension easing in the muscles. Her brow furrowed and breathing slowed. A little flag of victory waved inside until she said, “I hadn't thought any of those thoughts, Dr. Phil, but apparently you have projected them onto me. Gender politics at work.”
    That flag was suddenly white. Shit. Not the reaction he expected. Lydia began scooping up her files, muttering to herself.
    He stopped her with a hand on her forearm. Frozen, she didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink. “How is that gender politics?”
    Sputter. Smirk. Eyeroll. “How isn't it? Dave's known for more than a year – no, two years – that I wanted a chance at the social media job. You come in here strutting like the CEO's nephew and bam – instant boss. You're going to tell me my ovaries have nothing to do with that?”
    He frowned. “You're conflating two issues. Am I here because of perceived favoritism or because I'm a man?”
    “Both, apparently. So you are his nephew!”
    “Whose?”
    “Michael Bournham.” She raised her eyebrows in a look of contempt. “You know. The owner of this company?”
    At the mention of his real name, it was his turn to freeze, the sound of it rolling off her tongue and lips like some sort of answered prayer. He wanted to hear her hiss it in his ear, riding him, sweat pouring onto –
    Shake it off, Mike. “I'm no one's nephew.” Fake laugh. “All my parents' siblings are girls who didn't marry or have kids.”
    “There you go. Girls. Unless they're all prepubescent females, you sound like Don Draper from Mad Men.”
    “I've been called worse.”
    “You know what? Forget it. I came in here to explain my new proposal, which I'm presenting to Dave tomorrow, but you aren't any different from the rest of them.”
    Gender politics? He had women as vice presidents, on the board, and in high management positions. What was she nattering on about?
    She continued, her voice shifting to a sarcastic, sultry tone, the incongruity charging the air. “Shall I get you some coffee? Email the email you ask me to email to some work group? Schedule your lunch reservation? Bring you slippers and the newspaper? Meet your,” she paused, her lips shifting into a pout, her face softening, eyes hard and cold as she whispered in a Marilyn Monroe, breathy voice, “every need?”
    With that, she marched out, papers jutting here and there in her hastily-layered stack, hips swaying out of sight as, once more, he cursed his too-tight pants.
    Slam!

    Nearly hyperventilating, Lydia couldn't believe how quickly that whole scene had fallen apart. She went in there with her professional heart on her sleeve, showing him the results of months of work. Him! The guy who stole her job. And he didn't deny that he might be Bournham's nephew. Damn it!
    Hot tears