By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

I hadn’t thought it was possible to hate myself more.

And then I’d gone and out-assholed myself.

Ally had every right to want to murder me. Hell, I wasn’t feeling too great about living with myself after tonight.

Delaney had tried to light into me after Ally and Austen had left—separately. I wasn’t fooling her with the whole “she’s just an employee” thing. So, I’d gently shoved her in my car, directed Nelson to drive her home, and then decided to walk as many blocks as it took until my anger cooled or I got hypothermia.

I’d fucked up. I’d crossed so many boundaries in that hallway that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again.

And then I’d gone and made it worse.

I hadn’t known she’d be there. But I’d still gone.

When I got to the dance studio she’d listed on her employment application, well, I almost made a further fool of myself. She was dancing in an empty studio, moving her body in ways that made me wish there was no glass between us, no barriers. I could hear the faint beat of her music as it pulsed inside.

Was this how my father had felt? Had he once been a normal man until something broke inside him and he couldn’t stop himself?

Was I destined to follow in the footsteps of Paul Russo, predatory motherfucker and general dirtbag?

I couldn’t stop watching her. She danced like it was a compulsion. Like she had to in order to keep breathing.

I understood it, recognized it even. But my compulsion wasn’t this pure, beautiful art. Mine wasn’t a celebration like Ally’s.

Mine was dark. Dirty. And I was drowning in it.

I stood there watching her, aching for her, as the night chill slowly worked its way into my bones. Cold. I was a cold man. I wasn’t capable of warmth. Of romance. Kindness. The woman on the other side of the glass deserved more than I could give her. But that didn’t stop me from wanting her.

I’d taken things that weren’t mine before. But not like my father. Never like my father.

My throat tightened, watching Ally slide to the floor and crawl toward the mirror.

I wanted what I couldn’t have.

I wanted her to the point of desperation. And it made me hate myself just a little more.

The office was closer than home. I couldn’t wait.

I gave a terse nod to building security and headed up to my office. The image of Ally crawling on her hands and knees was burned into my brain, distilled in my blood.

Tonight I’d done plenty of things to hate myself for. What was one more?

The forty-third floor was empty. And I fought my baser instincts by taking a slow lap. Daring myself not to do it. Willing myself to be strong enough not to.

But it was a losing battle.

I locked myself in my office, not bothering with the lights. By the time I crossed to the bathroom door behind my desk, I already had my cock out of my pants.

I kicked at the door, not bothering to close it all the way. It didn’t matter. I had more pressing things to take care of.

Closing my eyes, I fisted my dick at the root, willing the pulsating need to slow or stop. I leaned against the vanity with my free hand and tried not to fucking come on the spot.

This is what she did to me. Every fucking day. I’d never wanted anyone with this gut-churning intensity before. I felt like my neurons were carving monuments to the woman in my brain.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, giving my shaft one violent stroke. “Ally.”

I wished it was her. I wished I was pushing my way inside her while she wrapped her legs around me and breathed my name against my lips. I wished she was mine to take.

My vision was going black as I pumped into my hand. Hard, vicious strokes. I wouldn’t last. I couldn’t. Not when up against the imagined sighs from Ally’s pretty, pink lips. Not when I could see her crawling to me, those brown eyes begging.

“Dom? Oh my God! I’m so sorry.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The bathroom door burst open, and there she was, back in her dress and those boots. Had I fucking conjured her? Was this some cruel joke?

“Get the fuck out, Ally,” I growled.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was dropping something off for Shayla, and there were papers for you to sign, and I used a key and…”

I chanced a glance at her in the mirror.

She was still there and she was staring at me. Her mouth a perfect O. My throbbing dick jerked, and I held it in a chokehold.

I was so close to coming. And she was right there.

But this wasn’t a fantasy. This was reality. There were rules.

And I was a goddamn monster.

Wanting her made me a monster.

“Dom,” she said softly.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Ally, you need to go.” My voice shook.

“You said my name. Before,” she said, she took a step closer. She looked dazed.

She’d heard me say her name while I was stroking my own cock.

“Ally, I can’t hold on. Get the fuck out of here,” I said through clenched teeth. Desperation was bitter in my mouth.

She was next to me now. I could smell her goddamn lemon shampoo. “If you weren’t worried about anything else,” she began softly, “would you want me to stay?”

“Go. Now,” I growled. I could feel my pulse in my head and the crown of my cock simultaneously.

She laid a hand on my shoulder, and it almost broke me. “Answer me, Dom.”

“Jesus. Please, Ally.” I was begging her now. If I released my hold on my dick, I’d come. And she’d stand there watching. I couldn’t do anything but clamp my fist around my goddamn hard-on and look at her.

“Are you thinking about me?” she asked.

“Yes.” I snapped out the confession through gritted teeth. “Happy? I’m always thinking of you.”

“But you don’t want me enough to bend the rules.”

I chanced a look at her. Her lids were heavy, lips parted and wet as if she’d just licked them. “They are rules for a reason.”

She stepped around me and slid between me and the vanity. The tip of my dick was centimeters away from her stomach. “So you can want to touch me, to fuck me. But the rule is more important.”

Sweat was running down my back.

“Something like that,” I breathed out. Right this second, my own logic didn’t even make sense.

“I’m so pissed at you, Dom. But apparently that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what it feels like to have you inside me. And I hate that,” she confessed.

“Join the club,” I rasped.

I tried to think about every unsexy thing in the universe, but nothing could tear my brain away from Ally. Not when she was stepping those fuck-me boots apart in front of me and reaching for the hem of her dress.

“Don’t you fucking do it,” I warned her.

“Can I show you? Please? I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

I wanted it more than I wanted anything in the entire fucking universe. More than I wanted to go back to my old life. More than I wanted my father to not be a monster. More than I wanted to come. “God. Yes.”

She lifted the hem of her dress, revealing those red panties I’d caught a glimpse of earlier. There was a wet spot on the front. She was fucking wet.

“Is that for me?” The words tore up my throat like they were made of glass.

“I think about you, too, Dom. I like fighting with you, flirting with you. And apparently, you being a high-handed alpha asshole is a turn-on too. And I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“I can’t be with you, Ally. Not like you want. Not while you work here.”

“And I can’t quit,” she whispered.

My dick was throbbing and turning an angry purple. I loosened my grip by a millimeter, relieved when I didn’t explode right then and there all over her.

Watching me, she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs. I didn’t see a damn thing because the dress skimmed down, covering her goddamn promised land. Red cotton on smooth, milky skin. My dick spasmed. I resumed my chokehold.

She stepped out of them and handed them to me. They were warm. I barely restrained myself from holding them to my face and breathing them in like a fucking pervert. “Give me something to think about tonight, Dom. Please.”

She was handing me a goddamn fantasy. And that “please.” Those liquid honey eyes pleaded with me and had me taking an even firmer grip on my shaft.

Her petal pink lips parted as she watched me, and I imagined her on her knees in front of me. I couldn’t stop myself. Not even if I’d tried. Not even if the entire board of directors strolled through the door right now. Wrapping her underwear around my fist, I gave my abused shaft a long, hard stroke.

I groaned. But the whimper that tore its way out of her throat gave me the strength to hang on. I wanted more noises like that from her. And I wanted them all to myself.

We were inches apart in this bathroom. And I’d already crossed so many lines. What was one more? But this was the line. One my father would have crossed in a heartbeat without a second thought. Because it gratified him. Because he thought he deserved it.

I was different. I knew I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve her.

“Ally. I can’t.” I shook my head, pinching my eyes closed. I couldn’t be like him.

“Okay, Dom.” She sounded so fucking disappointed, and it made me feel even worse. I was the bad guy, even when I was trying to be the good guy.

I heard the sound of the bathroom door closing softly. And when I opened my eyes, I was alone in the washroom.

Alone again.

I couldn’t even go after her to apologize. Because I was too busy jerking off into those red panties. My balls ached as they drew up against me, and I felt it build at the base of my spine. In seconds, I was coming so hard it hurt. Watching in bitter, deviant fascination as my orgasm covered the wet spot that she said was for me. I kept coming, huge, wrenching spurts that couldn’t be contained by a little swatch of cotton. But I didn’t care.

“Ally.” Her name scorched my throat. “Ally.”