She's not a moron. She could have legally changed it.

I would have if I were her.

Her name is as annoying as her perky tits, sunshine attitude, and royal-blue doe eyes.

She looks so innocent.

I bet she's only dated super-nice guys who don't know what they're doing in the bedroom.

I could corrupt her twenty-four-year-old virginal body.

Okay, she can't be a virgin.

Maybe she is.

Nah. She probably lost her virginity to her longtime high school boyfriend, who came the minute he shoved his small little cock inside her tight pussy.

I should teach her what it's like to be with a real man.

HR would love that.

I glance through the tinted glass at her long legs crossed under her desk. She twists a lock of her blonde hair around her finger, studying a piece of paper. She furrows her eyebrows, releases her hair, then marks the paper. Her pink tongue shoots out, slowly licking her bottom lip.

I groan, slide my hand inside my pants, and stroke the raging hard-on I've had since I ran into her in the lobby. The moment she opened those pouty lips and her southern accent came out, I was a goner.

But I knew if she worked in this building, I needed to stay away from her.

Then she showed up in my office with her little cupcake dreams, compounding my annoyance.

What is the point of an MBA if you aren't going to use it?

She's obviously using Cartwright enterprises as a stepping stone until her fantasy operation can come to fruition. Watching our clients eat her cupcakes all day and rave about them only irritated me more.

If Ben Eiler thinks he's going to have his way with her, he's got another thing coming.

She's an employee. I need to stay away from her.

She's not long-term.

Maybe I should have her sign a contract, tell her I'll pay her double her salary to service my needs and keep her at my beck and call.

I chuckle, trying to imagine her face if I proposed that arrangement, stroking myself faster.

She rises and walks toward my door. There's a knock.

I remove my hand from my pants, scoot closer to my desk, and bark, "Come in."

"Is there anything else you need before I leave tonight, Mr. Cartwright?" She turns her dazzling smile on me, making my cock hurt more.

Yeah, come over here. I'll bend you over the desk and fuck that chirpy little attitude of yours right out of you.

The lights are dim, signaling it's past seven. It's to save electricity, but I also prefer it after a long day. I glance at the window, realize it's already dark out, and then refocus on her. "No. I'm good."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow," she says and spins.

"Wait!" I order.

She freezes, then turns back. "Yes?"

"Why are you here so late?" I question. The others left at least an hour ago.