Mr. King [Book 1]

Eight

Katherine spent the morning cleaning – giving that goddamn dining room table a good scrub down. She felt sick to her stomach as her mind played the night over in her head, torturing her with the memories.

It was absolutely ridiculous. How could she have been so stupid? Why did she let that happen? Why would she have sex with her boss? Who does that? It was irresponsible. Completely and utterly stupid.

As she went into Mr. King's bedroom to gather his laundry, she found the slacks he wore the previous night laying across the chair in his closet. She scoffed as she scooped them up, shoving her hands in the pockets to empty them. When her hand came out, it pulled out a wad of cash and an unused condom.

"Smug bastard," she grumbled, feeling like a fool after letting him seduce her.

He was prepared with two condoms. What the hell was that? He couldn't just walk around with a pocketful of condoms all day. That was just ridiculous. Nobody is that prepared. He knew she'd give in to all of his suggestive words. 'I'm not used to this, Miss Mason, being attracted to someone I employ.' Katherine was sure a man like him had never been turned down in his whole life. 'I am a man who gets what he wants.' She was such a fool.

She slammed her hand against the top of his clothing armoire in his closet, leaving the condom and cash there as she threw his clothes into the basket. She made her way toward the laundry room, noticing Mr. King was in his office on the phone. He didn't usually work from home, but there he was – today of all days. She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she made her way to the laundry room and began to throw his garments into the washer, not fully paying attention to what she was doing.

...

"Ahem. Miss Mason, could you come in here?" She heard Mr. King's low voice as she was passing by his open office door.

Katherine froze in her tracks as her heart began to beat in her throat. She took a deep breath and let it out silently before she backtracked and appeared over the threshold of the door.

"Yes, Mr. King?" She replied politely, watching him watch her.

"Could you come in here?" He repeated, fully enunciating the words.

"Of course," she agreed quietly as she stepped forward, coming to stand next to his desk.

His pensive eyes watched her contently as she stood there in front of him feeling like a fool. The longer she stood there, the more uncomfortable she felt. He wasn't saying anything, he was just observing her, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"How do you feel?" He finally asked. Her eyebrows furrowed, feeling slightly confused by his question.

"Uhhm... fine..." She said quietly. Could he be any more vague? What the hell did it matter to him how she was feeling? Just because they shared one night together?

He cleared his throat and stood up, his eyes never leaving hers as he walked around the desk toward her, causing her heartbeat to accelerate as she held her breath altogether. What was going on? He was making her panic more and more the closer he got to her.

"Your laundry is in the wash and I've... I've cleaned the table, sir—" She said in a rush of words, stumbling back away from him a bit. She cringed noticeably after bringing up the table, like an idiot.

She watched as a smirk tugged up his lips, though his eyes stayed mysterious and intrusive.

"My desk may need a good wipe down in a bit," he breathed lowly, causing every nerve in her body to heighten at what his words meant.

Her breathing hitched in her throat and she wasn't sure if she wanted to rip her clothes right off of her body or slap him across the face for being so presumptuous to assume she would ever have sex with him again. But who was she kidding? She could literally feel her knees weakening for him at the prospect.