Free For His Pleasure (Dominated By The Billionaire) by Adriana Hunter

 
    Katherine Hewitt waited in line at the
Starbucks Drive-Thru, checking her watch every few minutes and
trying not to tap her foot too impatiently. She really should have
gotten here ten minutes earlier, but she’d had a restless night and
had fallen asleep late, resulting in her hitting the snooze button
one too many times. It was ten minutes to eight and if she didn’t
arrive with the coffees for the morning meeting she would be in hot
water.
    She pulled up to the ordering screen and put
in her order for five house blend coffees, three with cream and
sugar, one with just cream, and one black. Then she ordered a
caramel macchiato for herself, and sat back while she waited for
the car in front of her to roll forward. Her tired mind drifted
back to work, to all the things she would have to get done for the
day, while trying her hardest not to be distracted by the sexy,
enigmatic powerhouse that was Mark Donaldson.
    In truth, she was only his front desk
secretary—his personal secretary (or assistant, as the man liked to
call himself) was Dave Harrison, tall, skinny and snooty-nosed, and
very much crushing on their boss. Max had a tendency to tumble
whichever woman was in his bed across his desk during his lunch
hour, and Dave would get outrageously jealous and take it out on
Katherine since he knew she had eyes for the boss as well. So he
would dump tasks on her that were quite obviously his job—like
fetching the morning meeting coffee.
    She collected and paid for the orders, then
drove down Central Avenue and into the parking garage adjacent to
the building Empire Creations was housed in. Balancing the two
trays of coffee in her hands, she somehow managed to get to the
office on the 30 th floor without spilling any on the
white blouse she wore—a miracle, since she’d already stained three
shirts in as many weeks doing just this.
    Her low-heeled pumps clicked against the
black tile floor as she headed past the wide console that was her
desk, through the hall, and into the meeting room, where several
staff were already waiting—including Mark, who was making notes on
a pad of paper as he sat at the head of the table.
    She set the coffees down near him, and froze
momentarily when he looked her way. He was too handsome for a Plain
Jane like her to be around him without floundering for oxygen. The
ceiling lights glanced off his black hair, slicked back from a
tanned face with a straight nose, lips she knew could curve
absolutely wickedly when he was looking at a woman he liked, and a
strong, square chin. His eyes were such a dark brown they appeared
to be black, and they pierced her like arrows now, something
intensely carnal in them she wasn’t at all comfortable with.
    “Good morning, Ms. Hewitt,” he greeted her
in that deep, rich voice that was like the caress of a man’s hand
down her spine.
    “Morning, Mr. Donaldson,” she murmured
quietly, dropping her eyes to the coffee tray she’d set down so she
wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. She began pulling out the
different coffees and reading the labels on them before passing
them out. When she got to his she set it down in front of him, her
eyes fixated on the glossy wooden table, and she nearly jumped out
of her skin as his hand curled around the cup, strong, warm fingers
touching hers before she could let go. Startled, she looked up to
see that carnal gleam was in his eye, and this time that wicked
curve to his lips was there to match it. Her pulse tripped as color
heated her cheeks. Surely he wasn’t looking at her like
that. She was just a wallflower—a nobody.
    The spell of the moment was shattered when
Dave came rushing over, his pale face stretched in a grimace of a
smile. The loathing in his blue eyes as he looked her way told her
loud and clear that he was not pleased with what he was seeing.
“I’ll take that off your hands, Ms. Hewitt,” he told her, elbowing
her out of the way none too gently. He spied the caramel macchiato
and snatched it