Late Nights With My Boss (2 of 3)

Just before the elevator doors shut, a hand slipped in to stop them and Blake stepped in beside me. He gave me a look that was impossible to read. "Didn't think you'd sneak out without me."

I smiled... barely. "Just heading home, Blake."

He reached out to press the button for the basement, but before he could, I leaned in and hit it myself.

Our hands touched. Just for a second. Bare skin against skin. Nothing that would've meant anything to someone else.

But to me?

It was everything.

My heart skipped so sharply I thought he'd hear it.

He glanced at me and smiled. "Thanks, Troy"

The elevator started to hum downward. A soft mechanical lull beneath the silence that filled the space between us.

He shifted slightly, not looking at me as he asked, "Hey, do you need a ride home?"

I hesitated, caught off guard. "Oh. That's okay. Mr. Blake. I'm good, really."

He nodded, not pushing. But then again... he didn't pull back either.

As the elevator slowed at the ground floor, I stepped forward, ready to leave and vanish into the night.

But his voice stopped me. "You sure?" he said, and this time it was quieter. Gentler. "It's late. And I'm heading that way. I'll drop you, don't worry."

I froze, just slightly, before glancing back. The doors were open. The city waited. But the way he looked at me... steady, calm, that same restraint from earlier still flickering in his eyes... it pulled at something in me.

He nodded toward the exit. "Come on. I insist."

There was something in his voice that made the answer come out before I could think it through.

"Okay," I said. "Thank you so much Blake."

We walked together down a quiet hallway I'd never used before. His keycard let us into the executive basement garage, and when his car chirped; sleek, black, and definitely out of my tax bracket.... I paused for just a second.

He opened the passenger door for me, like a goddamn movie.

"Here," he said softly. "Let me."

I blinked, still unsure if this was happening. "Thanks..."

I slid into the seat, trying not to feel the way my pulse jumped. The leather was smooth and cool. The air smelled like his cologne... warm, spicy, expensive. Masculine in a way that clung to the back of my throat.

He got in on the driver's side, started the car, and for a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

The silence was strangely comfortable.

He finally glanced over. "You live far?"

"Not really. Just west of the park."

"Nice."

The drive through the city was smooth and quiet. Streetlights painted gold across the dashboard in rhythmic flashes. The world outside blurred, but in the car, everything felt still.

"So," he said, voice easy now, "what's tomorrow for you? Big plans for Saturday night?"

I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, actually. My friend's gender reveal in the morning. Her and her husband are going all out. Smoke cannons, cupcakes. I think a choreographed dance is involved."

He chuckled. "Sounds... intense."

"It will be," I said, smiling. "But good intense."

He nodded. "Good."

By the time we pulled up outside my apartment, something in the air had shifted again. Not as sharp as before. But thicker. Heavier. Like a string that had been wound too tight and was waiting to snap.

I unbuckled my seatbelt but didn't move.

The silence between us lingered, thick with something neither of us wanted to name.

I turned to him slowly. My heart was loud in my ears.

"I just wanted to say..." I took a breath. "I'm sorry about earlier, Blake. I misread things. Got caught up in the moment."

Blake didn't respond at first. His gaze was steady, fixed on me.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," I continued, softer now.

"I wasn't thinking clearly. I just...."

I paused.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Maddox. Uh... Mr. Blake."

The air felt different after I said it. Like something vulnerable had cracked open between us.

I expected him to give me a smile. Maybe a quiet it's okay, or a polite dismissal to make it all go away.

But he didn't.

He turned in his seat instead, slow and deliberate. His jaw was tense, and his eyes.... fuck.... his eyes were searching mine like he wasn't sure what he was about to say.

"Actually, Troy..."

His voice had changed. Lower. Raw. Like something had broken loose inside him and he couldn't keep it in anymore.

I held my breath.

His eyes didn't leave mine. And even as he leaned in, he hesitated. His lips stopped just a breath away.

I could feel the warmth of him.

I could smell him.

He didn't move further.

Not yet.

Then he whispered it.

"Fuck it."

And his mouth found mine.

The kiss was immediate. Fierce. Passionate.

Like it had been caged behind his ribs for so long, clawing to get out and now he was letting it all pour into me. The low sound in his throat. He kissed like a man on the edge. Like he was craving it.

His hand came up fast... fingers strong and commanding, cupping my jaw, thumb anchoring just beneath my cheekbone. The way he held me there... it made something twist deep inside me. Like he was claiming the moment. Like he needed me close or he might lose control.

I kissed him back without a thought. Desperate. My whole body lit up as if something had just snapped loose in me.

And then... God... his fingers slid into my hair gently, threading through it like he'd been dying to do it for ages. He gave a gentle pull, just enough to tilt my head, to expose me to him. I moaned. It spilled from me, soft and involuntary, before I could stop it.

He kissed me harder after that. Like he liked the sound. Like it flipped a switch. His lips moved over mine with fire, open and wet teasing me. I could feel the tension in his jaw, the heat of his breath, the way his chest rose and fell against me. I didn't pull back.

I leaned in instead, my palm sliding up the front of his chest. His shirt dark green, fitted, soft cotton.... was warm from his skin. I could feel the hard cut of his body beneath it. Pecs. Shoulders. He was solid, carved like something purposeful. Like he belonged in this kind of moment.

My fingers drifted over the curve of his collarbone, and he let out a quiet groan that made my knees go soft. That sound... it sent heat pulsing low in my belly.

I shifted closer, pressing my thigh between his. He didn't stop me. His other hand moved low, landing at my waist, then slowly sliding around my hip, pulling me flush against him. I felt the outline of his cock hard, unmistakable pressing through his jeans against my thigh. My breath caught.

Still, we didn't stop.

We didn't even try.

We kissed like we were trying to make up for every second we'd wasted pretending we didn't want this all week. Breath hitching, hands roaming like we needed more, and then more again.

His mouth left mine only to kiss down the line of my neck, then behind my ear, kissing gently at the skin there. My head dropped back with a gasp, giving him access. I felt his lips graze me. I shivered.

My fingers gripped the front of his shirt, desperate to keep him close. I didn't care if we were in his car. I didn't care about anything except the heat spreading between us, the way his hand had crept beneath the hem of my tshirt, warm fingers now tracing the bare skin at my lower back.

I wanted him.

God, I wanted him so bad.

All of him.

But eventually, finally, he slowed.

He pulled back.. just enough for his lips to hover above mine. His breath was fast. His eyes searched mine.

His hand stayed on my cheek, thumb stroking lazily across my jaw.

"I wanted to do that," he said, his voice rough with need.

"Then why didn't you earlier?" I asked, barely able to speak. My lips were tingling. My whole body was trembling.

He looked away for a second. Not coldly. Just... grappling. Then back at me.

"Because you're my intern," he said. "And because I don't usually do this."

I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. My skin buzzed where he'd touched me.

His thumb kept moving, slow, hypnotic. He was still touching me like he didn't want to stop.

"When you leaned in earlier... I panicked. I thought maybe I was imagining it. And I didn't want to cross a line."

"And now?" I asked, my voice low.

His eyes darkened... lust and hesitation, all tangled together.

"Now I'm wondering if I already did."

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward. It was electric charged and unfinished.

I could still feel his kiss on my lips. Still taste him. Still feel the hard press of him between my thighs.

And even though he hadn't said it outright, I could see it in his eyes.

He wanted more.

So did I.

So, I went for it.....

"Would you maybe..." I hesitated, nerves hitting me all at once. "Would you wanna come in? I mean, if you're not rushing anywhere. You could... stay the night."

The second it came out of my mouth, I looked away. Embarrassed. My ears burned hot.

He didn't respond right away.

Then, gently.. too gently.. he said my name.

"Troy..."

My heart sank the moment I heard it in that tone.

"I should go."

I nodded quickly, trying to pretend that didn't sting. "Right. Yeah. Of course."

But he didn't turn away just yet.

He looked at me again, longer this time. Then reached over one last time, his fingers brushing lightly down my arm.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Okay?"

I smiled, small. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

I opened the door and stepped out, legs a little shaky as I closed it behind me.

And as I walked toward my building, keys in hand, I could still feel his kiss on my lips. His breath on my cheeks.

Like it hadn't really ended.

Like maybe... just maybe... it was only beginning.

____

I went back to my apartment that night, heart still thudding from the kiss.

Blake's lips. The way he'd said "fuck it" and just gone for it. Bold, sudden, like he couldn't stop himself anymore. But even as I lay in bed, replaying every second of it, I could still feel the hesitation underneath. That quiet restraint he hadn't quite shaken. Like he wanted it, wanted me, but something in him was still holding back.

Even the next morning, at my best friend's gender reveal party surrounded by cupcakes, shouting uncles, and way too many shades of pink and blue. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Not the balloons. Not the smoke cannons. Just Blake.

That kiss.

That hand on my cheek.

That low, breathless "I should go."

And now here I was, showing up late to the office on a Saturday, carrying the weight of that moment like it was still stuck to my skin.

Technically, I wasn't expected to come in today. But the deck Blake had assigned still needed polish, and I figured this was the perfect time to get it done.. quiet, empty, no distractions. Just me, my laptop, and a comically oversized iced coffee from the place down the block.

The floor was mostly deserted. A few suits I didn't recognize lingered near the corner offices, but otherwise, it felt like a ghost town.

Except for one closed door at the end of the hall.

Blake's.

I tried not to think too hard about it as I took my seat, booted up my laptop, and opened the deck. But then.... soft footsteps. The sound of a door opening.

I turned instinctively.

And there he was.

Blake Maddox, in a black crewneck with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, dark jeans that fit a little too well, and hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it instead of a comb. Casual. Effortless. Unfair.

He stepped out of his office. Stopped. His eyes locked on mine.

There was a beat... long enough to feel.

No smile. No nod.

Just a quiet stare before he turned and went back into his office, door clicking shut behind him.

Cool. Definitely no lingering tension there.

I exhaled and stared at the blinking cursor on my screen. Then, without really planning to, I stood up, grabbed the printed deck pages, and walked.

My feet took me there before my brain could talk me out of it.

I knocked once and pushed the door open.

He looked up from his desk as I stepped in, his eyes flicking up to meet mine.

"Mr. Maddox," I said.... formal, safe. "I brought the updated deck for tomorrow. Sorry it took a while. I... needed to rework a few sections."

He held out his hand. I crossed the room and passed the pages to him.

His fingers brushed mine just slightly but the contact was enough to jolt me. That heat again. That pulse under my skin that had only gotten stronger since last night.

"Thanks," he said softly, eyes on the pages. Then, quieter, "You didn't have to come in today."

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. "I figured it'd be easier to focus. Plus... I wanted to make sure you had time to review it before tomorrow."

He flipped through the first couple pages, nodding. Silence stretched for a moment.

I turned to leave.

But then

"Troy?"

I stopped.

He was looking at me again. And this time, it wasn't with polite professionalism. It wasn't guarded. It was something else.... gentle, conflicted, a little unsteady.

"I've been thinking about last night," he said quietly. "And before I say anything else... I want you to know something."

I watched him, waiting.

"I don't want this to be a thing we fumble through," he said. "I want to do it right."

His voice was low. Measured. Like saying it out loud cost him something.

"You caught me off guard last night," he continued. "Not in a bad way just... I wasn't prepared to want something like that."

I blinked.

Something like that?

He stepped around his desk slowly... not too close, just enough that we were finally standing face-to-face. Nothing between us now except space and whatever had been simmering in it for weeks.

That scent... sharp, clean, and masculine drifted from his clothes again. The same one that had clung to his car last night. The same one I was still thinking about when I fell asleep.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted again.

And then, with the smallest tug of a smile

"How about dinner tonight?"

My stomach did a full somersault.

"Oh," I said, too fast. "Um... yeah. Yeah, sure."

"Good." He nodded once, like it was decided. "No suits. No work talk. Just... us."

He paused, then added with a crooked grin, "Unless you really want to show me that deck again."

I laughed, caught somewhere between breathless and lightheaded. "I think you've seen enough of my deck."

Blake raised a brow, eyes sparkling. "Bold for a Saturday, intern."

But the smile stayed warm, real and the tension between us hadn't gone anywhere. If anything, it had deepened.

His voice dipped lower, still teasing but now laced with something softer. "So... dinner then?"

I nodded, trying hard not to look too eager even though my pulse was going crazy. "Can I pick you up at seven?" he asked casually, like he hadn't just turned my whole Saturday into a countdown clock.

My face warmed. I had no idea what to do with my hands. "Sure," I said, giving a small smile. "Blake."

His eyes lingered on mine a beat too long. He didn't look away right away and that smile of his didn't fade either.

The way it tugged at the corners of his mouth, slow and sure, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me...

Yeah.

I was completely screwed and I couldn't wait for it.

_____

By the time I got home, it was nearly five-thirty.

The second the door shut behind me, I broke into the kind of grin that only happens after something good..... really good.... goes down.

Not just a smile. A full-body grin. The kind that takes over your face and makes you feel a little high.

I giggled.

Like, actually giggled.

Because I'd been holding it in all afternoon, trying to focus, trying not to drift off into full-blown blushy daydream territory. But now? Shoes off, alone in my apartment, heart still thudding?

There was no stopping it.

That kiss was all I could think about.

And the way he'd said it, just before it happened.

Fuck it.

God.

It had knocked the air clean out of me. Still did. Even hours later, I was floating. I barely got anything done at the office afterward, but I didn't care.

Because tonight... was our first real date.

By six, I was in the shower--longer than usual, hotter than usual, with more... attention to detail. The shave-everywhere, exfoliate-everything kind. I wasn't about to show up to dinner with Mr. Maddox looking like some half-done, half-slept twink.

I pulled on my best navy polo, snug in the sleeves, fitted at the waist. Gray tailored trousers. Black dress shoes that made me feel like I had a 401k and a personal assistant. Belt cinched tight, hair styled to hell, cologne I only wore for fantasy nights.

And this?

This was that.

At 7:15, I was pacing in the living room, nerves fluttering, leg bouncing like a jackhammer. I hadn't eaten all day... not because I forgot, but because my stomach refused to let me.

Then my phone chimed.

MR. Maddox : I'm outside. Take your time.

My breath caught. I grabbed my keys, jacket, and practically ran out the door.

And when I stepped outside?

Yeah.

He was leaning back against the hood of his black sedan like some kind of slow-motion daydream. Hands in his pockets, maroon shirt tucked into slim black jeans, belt drawing my eye down way too easily.

And the shoes... clean, polished, just shiny enough to make you look twice.

He looked up the moment he saw me.

That little smirk.

Chin tilted.

Eyes tracing every inch of me.

"Hey," he said, voice low and warm.

"You look good."

I smiled, trying not to combust on the sidewalk. "Hey. So do you."

He pushed off the car, walked around to the passenger side.

"Let me," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when he opened the door.... leaned in slightly to gesture me in... that's when I caught it.

Not his usual cologne.

Something darker.

Warmer.

Leather, spice, a little bit of sweetness beneath it.

Like bourbon left breathing on a marble bar top.

It hit me square in the chest.

I barely remembered how to sit down.

He shut the door behind me, walked around, and got in.

The engine purred. His hand shifted to the wheel. And then his eyes were on me again--slow, deliberate, taking his time.

"You really clean up well," he said, letting that last word hang a second longer.

I laughed, shifting in my seat. "Look who's talking. You're the one who looks like a GQ cover."

He let out a soft breath, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth.

"I've got us a reservation at Monroe."

My eyes widened. "Wait......... Monroe Monroe?"

He gave a small nod, already turning onto the main road.

"Jesus. That's... kind of fancy."

He glanced at me sideways.

"You're worth it."

My heart might've stopped for a second.

I didn't answer. Just swallowed and stared ahead, feeling way too warm for how cold it was outside.

The rest of the drive was quiet but not awkward. It felt... steady. Comfortable. Like both of us were waiting for something. Letting the air between us fill with whatever this was.

A few minutes later, we pulled up to a sleek glass building draped in soft string lights. The valet took the keys, and just like that, we were inside.

The rooftop restaurant looked like something out of a dream.

Jazz playing overhead. A skyline glittering in every direction. Our table tucked in a corner lit by candlelight, the city glowing behind us like we were inside a snow globe.

I barely touched my food.

Couldn't stop looking at him.

Blake Maddox, tieless, sleeves rolled to his elbows. That maroon button-down shirt hugged him in all the right places. The top buttons undone, hinting at skin and collarbone and just enough chest to make my brain stop working.

He looked up from his wine glass.

"I meant to wait longer," he said, voice soft. "Take things slower."

He gave this small, self-aware smile like he already knew how ridiculous that sounded.

"But when you looked at me in that car last night, I knew I was screwed."

I grinned, tracing the rim of my glass. "You're not the only one."

He chuckled under his breath, then leaned forward a little.

"I didn't plan on this," he said. "With a colleague, let alone an intern. But you got under my skin, Troy. Fast."

My breath caught. My cheeks went warm.

"There's something about you I couldn't ignore," he added.

I swallowed.

My voice barely worked, but I managed: "Well... I notice you too, Mr. Maddox."

He smirked into his glass. Didn't say anything for a beat.

We kept talking. And laughing. Somewhere between the second course and dessert, I stopped feeling nervous. He made me feel like I belonged there with him.

And then...

"Let me ask you something," he said, tone playful.

I tilted my head. "Okay..."

He turned a little toward me, voice quieter now. Almost careful.

"Would you want to come home with me tonight, Troy?

Let me... make it up to you. For last night."

The smile was still there.

But beneath it?

Sincerity.

Heat.

A low, honest want.

I stared at him for a second, heart pounding.

The skyline shimmered behind him. His shirt hung open just enough to make my mouth dry.

"I'd like that," I said.

He stood, offered his hand, and we walked out together.

-------------

The ride to his place was quiet. Our hands resting near each other on the console. Close, but not touching.

The air between us practically buzzed.

He pulled into a private underground garage. Sleek steel beams, polished cement. Definitely not a cheap bachelor pad.

Blake parked, cut the engine, and looked over at me.

That same soft smile.

No words.... just a look that said everything.

We walked through the glassy lobby, into the elevator. He brushed my hand once while we waited. Barely a touch. But it lingered.

He unlocked the door to his apartment, and

Yeah.

It was insane.

Open layout. Clean, moody lighting. Dark wood floors, textured walls, framed art that probably cost more than my entire degree. It looked like the kind of place someone important lived.

Someone like him.

Blake stepped inside, casually unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, heading toward the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"Sure," I replied, sitting down on the gray velvet couch. My pulse hadn't slowed since we got in the car.

He returned with two glasses. Something amber. Expensive, probably.

He sat beside me... close.

So close our thighs brushed.

His scent hit me again.

That same warm, spiced bourbon note. Leather. Heat.

He raised his glass.

"To doing things right."

I tapped mine against his.

Took a sip.

Smooth. Sweet. Dangerously good.

"So..." he said, setting his glass down. "Still nervous?"

"A little." I laughed, looking over at him. "But mostly just... really glad I'm here."

He leaned in. Close enough to touch. His leg pressed against mine.

And in that moment, with the soft glow of the kitchen lights behind him and that look in his eyes.....

I knew one thing for sure.

I wasn't going home tonight.