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She didn’t hover or chatter or…really anything at all. She was there, but also not. Whenever I needed to make a call, she somehow knew what file to pull before I said a word, and then she disappeared, giving me privacy.

Yet, somehow, she also managed to accomplish more than I would have expected her to in a whole month, in only one day.

And yet, every time she stepped into my line of sight, all I could think about was bending her over my desk and sinking my thick cock into her sweet pussy.

It was completely out of line.

Totally unprofessional and against…well, everything.

Yet…

It doesn’t matter how good she is at her job. She can’t stay.

My stomach growls, reminding me I skipped lunch, and the bowl of cereal I’d had for breakfast had been hours ago.

In the kitchen, I stand in front of the fridge and stare inside longer than required, trying to take inventory of what’s left. I haven’t been down to the store in weeks. And it shows. There’s enough for a few simple meals. Something that doesn’t require much planning or thought.

Just the way I like it.

Except now there are two people in the house. And I have to assume Lilly will want to eat something.

And since she made it quite clear earlier that cooking wasnotpart of her job description, I guess it’s up to me.

I pull out a package of steaks I’d taken out of the freezer a few days earlier, and a handful of potatoes. They’re a bit soft, but they’ll do in a pinch.

Light footsteps sound behind me.

“Do you need any help?”

I don’t turn immediately. I don’t need to. I’m already more aware of her than I should be.

“I thought you didn’t cook?” I turn then to see she’s changed out of her work clothes into a pair of leggings and an oversizedsweater that’s slipping off one shoulder. Her long dark hair has been twisted up into a messy bun, and somehow this relaxed version makes her both look younger and sexier all at the same time.

“You changed,” I say before she can answer my first question.

Lilly glances down at her outfit before looking up at me with a grin. “We didn’t talk about working hours, but I assumed six was probably safe to clock out.”

“It is.” I nod.

“And it’s not that Idon’tcook,” she adds as if I haven’t spoken. “I just wasn’t hired to cook.”

She moves comfortably through my kitchen, finding a cutting board and a knife before bending down to pull a pot from the lower cupboard.

I make the mistake of looking, and when she bends over, her peach of an ass strains against the tight leggings, leaving very little to the imagination.

With a growl, I turn and take a plate from the shelf.

“I don’t need any help.”

More like, I need her to get out of my kitchen before my thoughts slip into even more dangerous territory.

“That seems to be a theme with you, doesn’t it?” She smiles, and her blue eyes flash. “You can relax, I’m not offering to reorganize your kitchen or anything, I’m just offering to wash vegetables or chop something. To be honest, my cooking skills aren’t nearly as developed as other areas.”

Dammit.

There was nothing sexual about her comment, yet my mind flashes immediately to what other skills she might have.

My cock thickens in my jeans, forcing me to turn back to the counter and focus on the steaks.