"What are you doing?" she breathes.
"You didn't provoke me." I hold her gaze. "You couldn't provoke me into something I didn't already want."
"But—"
"I kissed you because I've been dying to for days."
Her pulse hammers against my fingers where I'm still holding her wrist.
"This is a terrible idea," she whispers.
"I know."
"You're my boss."
"I know."
"Your family is?—"
"I know what my family is." I release her wrist, but only so I can settle both hands on her hips. She doesn't move away. "I know exactly what I am. And I'm telling you anyway. I want you."
Kristen's eyes shine. For a terrible moment, I think she's going to cry.
Instead, she leans down and kisses me.
Her mouth moves against mine like she's been starving for this. For me. The thought sends heat straight to my cock.
I grip her hips tighter, pulling her flush against me so she can feel exactly what she's doing. Kristen gasps into the kiss, and I swallow the sound. My fingers dig into the soft flesh at her waist through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Mine.
The word echoes through my skull like a gunshot.
"Mommy?"
Kristen launches off my lap so fast she nearly takes out the coffee table. I bite back a groan as cold air replaces her warmth.
Lily stands in the doorway. Her eyes blink sleepily at us.
"Baby, what are you doing up?" Kristen's voice comes out three octaves too high. She smooths down her hair with shaking hands. "You should be sleeping."
"I had a bad dream." Lily's gaze drifts to me, then back to her mother. "What were you doing?"
I watch Kristen's face cycle through approximately twelve shades of panic in two seconds flat.
"I was—we were—" She gestures vaguely at me. "Mr. Nico wasn't feeling well."
"He looks okay."
"He's not. He's very sick. I was checking him."
Lily frowns. "Like when Dr. Patterson checks me?"
"Exactly like that." Kristen nods so hard I'm worried she'll give herself whiplash. "I was examining him. Because that's what you do when someone's not feeling well. You examine them. To see what's wrong. Which is what I was doing. Examining."
She's still talking. The words tumble out faster and faster, a runaway train of bullshit that would be hilarious if I wasn't currently hard enough to pound nails.
"—and you know how I read those medical books? Well, that's basically like being a doctor, except not officially, but thepoint is I was just checking to make sure he was okay because he said his—his chest hurt?—"
