Page 31 of Sexy Bad Boss

“You said you’ve been holding out for the right guy,” he interrupts.

“I have,” I rush to agree. “I’ve been waiting such a long time for—”

“Is it biological?” He drops his gaze to my waist. His face is mere inches from my belly, and his hand is wrapped around my leg. “Are you ticking?”

“Excuse me?” My voice is slightly high pitched. We’re talking about babies. That’s what this conversation is, right? Babies?

“Is your biological clock ticking? Has all my mother’s talk about babies made you clucky, Myra? Are you holding out because you’re looking for someone to marry and have babies with?”

“How? I don’t understand how you could come to that conclusion.” I’m standing here, anticipating that he’ll tell me he finally realizes he has feelings for me, and he boils it down to “your womb is desperate”? I don’t know which disappoints me more: that he’s never going to love me or that he’s objectifying my ovaries.

“Easily.” He brushes his thumb along the inside of my knee. “We’re not getting any younger. And you’d make a great mother. It would make sense of why you don’t want to be my assistant, and why you don’t want to be a partner.”

“Would it? Does it?” James can be awkward at personal interaction, but this is beyond the pale. “Because the only thing it’s doing is making you seem like a complete tosser.”

And I can’t believe I just called my boss a tosser. Might as well have thrown wanker at him. Or twatwaffle.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“I know.” I sigh. This isn’t a business merger. It’s far more complex, and not in James’s wheelhouse. Dating isn’t something he has a knack for. “You’re wrong, though. I haven’t even thought about marriage and babies. I can barely juggle my own life.”

“Then why did you look at that poor kid like you wanted to devour him?”

“I did not,” I respond. The guy’s cute, but he’s not jaw-droppingly gorgeous or anything. I can’t believe James would think I would be so crass around a colleague. Unless it’s him. Can’t quite seem to help ogling the boss.

“You did,” he says, his voice low and serious. “Because yesterday morning, that’s how you looked at me.”

“Are you jealous?” I whisper. Not sure what happened to my voice. It vanished along with my ability to breathe, and any chance of my borrowed underwear staying dry. I would never have set out to make him jealous. It’s an unintentional side effect of my inability to focus on anything other than him. But gosh darn, if he’s getting green-eyed about this, it has to mean something.

My ovaries just about jump up and do the Hokey Pokey.

“No, I’m not jealous.” He pulls me closer so that I’m standing right between his legs, and I have to be mindful not to bump the injured one.

“Oh.”

“It would be wrong of me to be jealous of some kid. Especially one who works for me.” He skims his hand up the back of my thigh and under my skirt to squeeze my ass.

His possessiveness thrills me. “Well, if you were, I would tell you that you have nothing to be jealous about.”

“But I’m not jealous, so it’s a moot point.” His fingers leave my ass, trail along the inside crease of my thigh. I want them higher, want them to slide inside his cotton boxer briefs and touch me like I’ve fantasized about a million times before.

“If you say so.” I glance in the direction of the front door, though I have no intention of moving until he lets me go. “Perhaps I should go into the—”

“I was furious that I couldn’t take care of you yesterday, but I’m going to make up for that now.” He drops his hand to his lap, presses on the bulge in his pants as though it’s uncomfortable for him. His voice is husky, edged with an authority he doesn’t normally use with me. “Now, you’re going to have to take off those boxer briefs for me.”

I’ve watched interns scurry to do his bidding, I’ve seen deals fall into place because James commands a room, but I’ve never felt such an urgent need to do what he tells me to do. Perhaps the full effect has been lost on me because I’ve made my career out of pre-empting his needs. Hiking up my skirt, I bunch the white cotton in my hands and drag them down until I can step out of them. Somehow, I manage not to get tangled up. “I wasn’t having thoughts about Alex.”

“Come here.” He reaches out and takes my hand. “Step up on the couch.”

“Are you crazy?” I say on a breath. The desire in his gaze sucks all the air out of my lungs. I want this. I want this more than air.

“Just do it.”

I step out of my heels and climb onto the couch so that my feet are beside his knees. He tugs me forward, and I have to put a hand on the back of the couch to keep my balance.

“That’s it,” he says, his fingers tracing my bare seam.

I want to scream, the pleasure is so intense and so deliberate. He flicks his gaze to my face, his eyes hooded heavily. “Come closer. I need you right in front of my face.”