John leans forward, his breath wafting on my inner thighs. He’s looking at me, I know. My boss is examining every inch of me. I quiver, fighting the urge to press my legs together, to block his view.

“You’re pink and perfect and mine.” His voice is soft. He brushes the tissues over my thighs, my mons, my pussy lips, cleaning me carefully, thoroughly, his touch caring, almost reverent.

John straightens and tosses the tissues into the trash. “You’ll attend the mayor’s party with me tonight.”

Is he asking me on a date? I stare at my boss. “This is a social event. Assistants aren’t invited.”

“I’m allowed a plus one.” John lowers my skirt’s hem, smoothes my jacket. “You’re my plus one.” He brushes a loose curl away from my face. “We’ll work to and from the event, make up for the time we lost over lunch.”

He’s anticipating an evening spent working with me. My joy, revived for a couple of heart lifting minutes, dims once more. “That will be efficient.”

“It will be.” John smiles.

* * *

John wishes to work the entire night. I know only one way to distract him, the same method women have been using to distract men for centuries.

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in the woman’s bathroom, gazing at my reflection, second guessing my plan.

From the front, my gold satin dress appears conservative, bordering on plain. I brush my long brown curls over my right shoulder. John won’t be seeing the dress from the front. I turn and the sinfully soft hem of my skirt skims over my bare knees. The back of the dress dips obscenely low, the fabric gathered at my spine drawing even more attention to my ass.

Is this too sexy for a cocktail party? I nibble on my bottom lip. The dress is new, bought on impulse seven months ago and has never been worn in public. I didn’t have anyone to wear it for…until now.

I want to wear it for John. I want him to see me as a beautiful woman, as his date, not as his assistant. His mind won’t be on work tonight. I clasp my matching clutch purse and exit the bathroom, my heart pounding.

John leans against the wall, his phone pressed to his ear. He’s clad in a black suit, a white shirt, and a plain black tie, his ensemble simple yet classic, complementing his dark brown hair and golden tan.

My fingers twitch, the urge to touch him, to rub my hands over his shoulders, his chest, his hips, tremendous. I want him to want me with this same intensity.

“There’s no wiggle room on the Bel Air build.” John glances at me. His eyes glow and his lips curl upward. “We have tenants moving in.” He stalks toward me. “They’re in multiple locations.” He curves his left hand around my hip, turning me. “Pushing the date--” His words abruptly stop.

My dress has rendered him speechless. I’m not brave enough to look over my shoulder, to face my boss’ reaction. Instead, I walk toward the elevators, my hips swaying, my skirt swishing against my legs, my six inch heels cushioned by the carpet.

John pauses for one moment and then surges forward. “I’ll call you back.” He catches up to me easily and puts his arm around me, splaying his fingers over my bare skin, one of his fingertips dipping under the satin. “There are other men attending this party, Grant.”

“I suspected there would be.” I smile at him, his possessiveness lightening my mood. He must care for me a little. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll distract them with the dreaded small talk and you can find a quiet place to work.”

He presses the button for the elevator and the doors open as though the car has been waiting for us. “You’ll be occupying that quiet place with me.”

I claim the rear right corner. John stands in front of me, protecting me from no one. I shouldn’t find this as thrilling as I do. “Someone has to hobnob with the mayor.” I place my palms on his back. He has reapplied his cologne, the scent teasing my nostrils. “Dividing and conquering will be efficient.”

John mutters something I suspect I don’t want to hear. “There will be no dividing and no conquering. You won’t leave my side.” He glances over his shoulder, his gaze lowering to my non-existent cleavage. My taut nipples strain against the soft satin, a bra not wearable with my dress. “I don’t want men gawking at my assistant.” His tone is surly.

“I’m your assistant tonight?” I frown. “If I had known that, sir, I wouldn’t have worn this dress.” I turn and look at my reflection in the mirror, giving him a good view of my bare back, deliberately tormenting him. “Men will think I’ve dressed this way for you.” I smooth my eyebrows and fix my lipstick. “And they’ll assume we’re a couple.”

John clenches his jaw.

“I’ll tell everyone this isn’t true, Mr. Powers.” I bend over and adjust the straps on my shoes. He sucks in his breath. “I’ll let them know our relationship is strictly professional. I’m your assistant. You’re my boss.” I straighten. John’s eyes are as black as his suit. “I have no claims on you and you have no claims on me.”

“You’re with me, Trella.” His voice is soft. “I’ve claimed you and, if another man touches you, I’ll destroy him.”

I shiver with excitement. John doesn’t make idle threats. He will destroy any man who touches me. “Because you care for me?” I press, needing to hear the words.

“Because you belong to me.” His eyes gleam.

He can own me and not care for me. My parents taught me this. They claimed me as their daughter yet they never truly cared for me. “Do you need me, John?”

“I want you.” He brushes one of his palms over the ridge in his dress pants.

Want and need are not the same things either. A want can be foregone. It is voluntary, a nice-to-have. A need is required, a necessity. If he needed me, I’d be essential for his success, for his happiness. He’d never let me go.

John doesn’t need me. He doesn’t need anyone. I summon a smile. “I see.”

He pivots toward me, facing away from the doors, putting himself in danger. “I don’t think that you do see.” He cups my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. Gold sparks flint in his brown eyes. “Your actions tonight will have consequences. Stay by my side.”

I gulp air. I suspect these consequences won’t be a sexy spanking. “I will, sir.”

John searches my face. For what? I don’t know. Then he smiles. “Good girl.” He presses a frustratingly quick kiss to my lips and turns toward the elevator doors. “I need the Bel Air numbers.”

He needs the numbers but he doesn’t need me. I extract my phone from my purse.

Chapter Seven

During the limousine ride, I perch sideways on John’s legs, my ass hanging in the air, my skin remaining tender from the lunch hour spanking. John leans back in the seat, listening to the numbers I recite, his eyelids lowered and his body relaxed. He isn’t asleep. His gaze is fixed upon my face. His calloused fingers stroke up and down my thighs, his touch distracting me.

I need him again, always, my workaholic billionaire and sexy boss, the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I suspect I will love. Needing and loving him isn’t enough. One-sided relationships never last, John taught me that. He has to need and love me also.

He raises one of his hands and drifts his fingertips along my cheek. “Your eyes sparkle like diamonds even when you’re sad.”

“I’m tired.” This isn’t a lie but it also isn’t the entire truth.

“I’ve been working you hard, as hard as I work myself.” John reaches into his inside jacket pocket.

I stifle a sigh. He’s searching for his phone. We have more work to complete. There’s always more work to complete.

John removes a black velvet box. “I’ve kept this for years, waiting for the right moment to give them to you.” He opens the lid, revealing the most beautiful earrings I’ve ever seen. Diamonds cascade down a waterfall of finely woven gold. “Tonight is the right moment.”