From Brenda St. John Brown comes a sexy romantic comedy that is " A BRIT COMPLICATED ."
Read a sneak peek of this #NEW #99cent standalone where shagging the boss i
s one thing but falling for him is another!
Read a sneak peek of this #NEW #99cent standalone where shagging the boss i
s one thing but falling for him is another!
“Do you worry someone will find out about –?” I can’t bring myself to say the word us. There is no us. “This.”
“No. I don’t.” Bradley glances up from his phone, buzzing in his hand. “Excuse me for a moment. I have to take this call.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before answering in French. I listen before figuring out it’s the same guy as last time. The one Bradley raked over the coals like it was a competition. I put a hand on his knee and whisper, “Be nice to him.”
I don’t say anything else while I stare out the window. But I leave my hand where it is. And I eavesdrop. While Bradley isn’t all butterflies and kittens, he’s not harsh either. There’s a point in the conversation where he even laughs and it doesn’t sound sarcastic or forced. When he hangs up – as we walk through the main entrance of his building – I say, “Look at you. Working well with others. Someone might think you’re in a good mood today.”
“That’s what François said.” Bradley grins and his hand lands on my back as we enter the lift. There’s a guy with a mop on the stairs and I don’t know if Bradley’s feeling impatient or if he figures my heels and wet tile are a bad combination, but either way, I’m grateful. “I need to be careful. You’re a bad influence on me.”
I’m surprised I’ve got any influence on him, bad or good, but I’ll think about that later. Maybe. Right now, I take a step closer and say, “Says the man who’s about to ravish me on his dining table.”
I run a fingernail down Bradley’s tie and look down in time to see him spring to attention, creating a tent in his trousers. He cups my ass, but keeps the distance between us and says, “The minute you walked into my office this morning, I wanted to send everybody home so I could have you on my desk.”
“You’re the boss.” I let my fingertip slide towards his belt buckle. “Why didn’t you do it?”
The lift arrives at Bradley’s floor and he tugs my hand to follow him off. “Another time.”
“Promises, promises.”
Those are the last words I manage for quite some time. At least the last coherent ones. Let’s just say Bradley is as good in the dining room as he is in the bedroom. Even when he’s dressed for the boardroom.
Because, you guessed it, he takes off his suit jacket but doesn’t lose the tie. And it is hot. It also means I can never again see that yellow tie without remembering the things he did to me while wearing it. A fact I point out as we drive across London in his two-seater BMW convertible.
“You know you can never wear that tie to the office again, right?” My knee is tucked up under my other leg and I’m half-facing him across the gear shift. When Bradley’s hand isn’t on the stick shift, it’s on my bare leg.
“Why not?” Judging from his grin, he knows exactly why not.
I shrug. “I can’t be held responsible for what I might do, that’s all. I think I’ve got a conditioned response now.”
Bradley’s fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, but no higher. “To become a quivering mess of multiple orgasms?”
“No. To expect you to give me multiple orgasms. Preferably with your mouth, since you are exceptionally talented that way.” And I mean exceptionally. Oral sex is pretty hard to get wrong, but I’ve had some guys who would have been better off not trying.
Note: Bradley is not one of those guys.
His loud laugh fills the small car. “I told you. I aim to please, Ms. St Julien.”
“I’d ask you where you learned to be so wicked, but I don’t want to know. Just make sure you thank her for me.” A vision of Anne von Thaden comes unbidden into my head. Shit. And no. No. No. NO. Don’t need that. The end.
Bradley laughs again, but it’s not as robust. “I’ll be sure to pass along your appreciation.”
“I hope you’re joking.” Get out of my head, Anne. Now. I take a deep breath, but she’s still there. Her red-painted mouth half-open and her black curls wild and sexy as hell. Why couldn’t Bradley’s ex be someone hot instead of larger than life? And why does it niggle at me? It shouldn’t and the fact that it does is annoying. There’s only one solution here. Work. “Speaking of, what are we doing over at the site today? Did you have an agenda or was it just an excuse for some afternoon delight?”
“I thought it would be more productive to go over your ideas at the space.” Bradley grins. “And I was hoping you’d enjoy our detour.”
“As if that would be an issue.” I roll my eyes, but it’s half-hearted because my mind is ticking. Ideas. I’m supposed to have ideas for the office space. And not the crap ones I keep coming up with, but good ones. Ones that prove I’m worth both the chance Bradley took in hiring me, and the promotion I keep angling for.
Before I can think too much about all the ideas I’m not having, my phone rings. I press the button to answer, but don’t even get to speak before Tara’s speaking. “Girls’ night in. Tonight. I’m calling it.”
I twist my body so I’m not facing Bradley anymore. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but you’ve been MIA all weekend and I need some Chardonnay therapy.” Tara laughs, but it’s not with amusement. “I had an epiphany.”
“Oh God. That sounds…thought-provoking?” Tara’s last epiphany was about how to make her hummus recipe without olive oil. So…
“This one is legit and I need your advice. Where the hell are you, anyway?”
“I’m on my way to the new office with Bradley.” Does my voice change when I say his name? I don’t think so, but I angle my head more towards the window.
“And how is Mr. Walking-Sex?” Tara at least has the wherewithal to lower her voice. A little.
“Seems fine.”
I take a breath to continue, but Tara cuts me off. “I heard from Amalie he’s looking very doable today. You might want to get on that.”
Already did, my friend. Already. Did.
“No. I don’t.” Bradley glances up from his phone, buzzing in his hand. “Excuse me for a moment. I have to take this call.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before answering in French. I listen before figuring out it’s the same guy as last time. The one Bradley raked over the coals like it was a competition. I put a hand on his knee and whisper, “Be nice to him.”
I don’t say anything else while I stare out the window. But I leave my hand where it is. And I eavesdrop. While Bradley isn’t all butterflies and kittens, he’s not harsh either. There’s a point in the conversation where he even laughs and it doesn’t sound sarcastic or forced. When he hangs up – as we walk through the main entrance of his building – I say, “Look at you. Working well with others. Someone might think you’re in a good mood today.”
“That’s what François said.” Bradley grins and his hand lands on my back as we enter the lift. There’s a guy with a mop on the stairs and I don’t know if Bradley’s feeling impatient or if he figures my heels and wet tile are a bad combination, but either way, I’m grateful. “I need to be careful. You’re a bad influence on me.”
I’m surprised I’ve got any influence on him, bad or good, but I’ll think about that later. Maybe. Right now, I take a step closer and say, “Says the man who’s about to ravish me on his dining table.”
I run a fingernail down Bradley’s tie and look down in time to see him spring to attention, creating a tent in his trousers. He cups my ass, but keeps the distance between us and says, “The minute you walked into my office this morning, I wanted to send everybody home so I could have you on my desk.”
“You’re the boss.” I let my fingertip slide towards his belt buckle. “Why didn’t you do it?”
The lift arrives at Bradley’s floor and he tugs my hand to follow him off. “Another time.”
“Promises, promises.”
Those are the last words I manage for quite some time. At least the last coherent ones. Let’s just say Bradley is as good in the dining room as he is in the bedroom. Even when he’s dressed for the boardroom.
Because, you guessed it, he takes off his suit jacket but doesn’t lose the tie. And it is hot. It also means I can never again see that yellow tie without remembering the things he did to me while wearing it. A fact I point out as we drive across London in his two-seater BMW convertible.
“You know you can never wear that tie to the office again, right?” My knee is tucked up under my other leg and I’m half-facing him across the gear shift. When Bradley’s hand isn’t on the stick shift, it’s on my bare leg.
“Why not?” Judging from his grin, he knows exactly why not.
I shrug. “I can’t be held responsible for what I might do, that’s all. I think I’ve got a conditioned response now.”
Bradley’s fingers slip under the hem of my skirt, but no higher. “To become a quivering mess of multiple orgasms?”
“No. To expect you to give me multiple orgasms. Preferably with your mouth, since you are exceptionally talented that way.” And I mean exceptionally. Oral sex is pretty hard to get wrong, but I’ve had some guys who would have been better off not trying.
Note: Bradley is not one of those guys.
His loud laugh fills the small car. “I told you. I aim to please, Ms. St Julien.”
“I’d ask you where you learned to be so wicked, but I don’t want to know. Just make sure you thank her for me.” A vision of Anne von Thaden comes unbidden into my head. Shit. And no. No. No. NO. Don’t need that. The end.
Bradley laughs again, but it’s not as robust. “I’ll be sure to pass along your appreciation.”
“I hope you’re joking.” Get out of my head, Anne. Now. I take a deep breath, but she’s still there. Her red-painted mouth half-open and her black curls wild and sexy as hell. Why couldn’t Bradley’s ex be someone hot instead of larger than life? And why does it niggle at me? It shouldn’t and the fact that it does is annoying. There’s only one solution here. Work. “Speaking of, what are we doing over at the site today? Did you have an agenda or was it just an excuse for some afternoon delight?”
“I thought it would be more productive to go over your ideas at the space.” Bradley grins. “And I was hoping you’d enjoy our detour.”
“As if that would be an issue.” I roll my eyes, but it’s half-hearted because my mind is ticking. Ideas. I’m supposed to have ideas for the office space. And not the crap ones I keep coming up with, but good ones. Ones that prove I’m worth both the chance Bradley took in hiring me, and the promotion I keep angling for.
Before I can think too much about all the ideas I’m not having, my phone rings. I press the button to answer, but don’t even get to speak before Tara’s speaking. “Girls’ night in. Tonight. I’m calling it.”
I twist my body so I’m not facing Bradley anymore. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but you’ve been MIA all weekend and I need some Chardonnay therapy.” Tara laughs, but it’s not with amusement. “I had an epiphany.”
“Oh God. That sounds…thought-provoking?” Tara’s last epiphany was about how to make her hummus recipe without olive oil. So…
“This one is legit and I need your advice. Where the hell are you, anyway?”
“I’m on my way to the new office with Bradley.” Does my voice change when I say his name? I don’t think so, but I angle my head more towards the window.
“And how is Mr. Walking-Sex?” Tara at least has the wherewithal to lower her voice. A little.
“Seems fine.”
I take a breath to continue, but Tara cuts me off. “I heard from Amalie he’s looking very doable today. You might want to get on that.”
Already did, my friend. Already. Did.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
MORE ABOUT A BRIT COMPLICATED
Shagging the boss is one thing.
Scarlett St Julien likes her job well enough. Her boss? Total wanker. Even if he is sexy AF. After all, they don’t call him Bradley Walking-Sex for nothing.
When Bradley asks her to show him around London, it’s another thing on Scarlett’s task list. At least until the spark between them ignites. And it is H-O-T.
Falling for him? Way. Worse.
It turns out Bradley Walking-Sex is smart and funny, as well as — you guessed it — oh-so-sexy. But he’s still the boss. A fling with him is one thing. Falling for him? Well, that’s not an option. Is it?
Shagging the boss is one thing.
Scarlett St Julien likes her job well enough. Her boss? Total wanker. Even if he is sexy AF. After all, they don’t call him Bradley Walking-Sex for nothing.
When Bradley asks her to show him around London, it’s another thing on Scarlett’s task list. At least until the spark between them ignites. And it is H-O-T.
Falling for him? Way. Worse.
It turns out Bradley Walking-Sex is smart and funny, as well as — you guessed it — oh-so-sexy. But he’s still the boss. A fling with him is one thing. Falling for him? Well, that’s not an option. Is it?
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☆☆☆☆☆☆
Brenda is a displaced New Yorker living in the English countryside. She’s lived in the UK long enough to gain dual citizenship, but still doesn’t understand Celsius. However, she has learned the appropriate use of the word “pants”. And how to order a proper bacon bap/barm/buttie. Because, well, bacon.
Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.
For more information or to connect with Brenda visit her WEBSITE.
Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.
For more information or to connect with Brenda visit her WEBSITE.
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