Her eyes flick to my mouth. Then back to my eyes. There’s fear there now that wasn’t there before.
“Am I in danger?” she whispers.
I smile. “Maybe a little.” I step closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath against my lips. Close enough to hear the slight hitch as her breathing changes, quicker now, unsteady.
Her chest rises and falls faster but her eyes don’t leave mine.
“But only from me,” I murmur.
My hand lifts, fingers brushing her jaw before I cup it, tilting her face up towards mine. For a second . . . I hesitate. Not because I don’t want this. Because I know I shouldn’t.
Then I lean in and press a slow kiss to the corner of her mouth. She freezes. Then turns her head just enough that her lips brush mine.
That’s all it takes. I pull her against me, my body flush with hers as I kiss her properly, deep, hungry, everything I’ve been holding back, crashing through at once.
She gasps softly, her hands gripping my shirt, bunching the fabric in her fists as she pulls me closer instead of pushing me away.
Her mouth opens for me. I take it. Slow at first . . . then harder, deeper, my control slipping with every second she responds.
Her tongue meets mine, tentative for a heartbeat before matching me, and something low and dangerous twists in my chest.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop.
When we finally break apart, our foreheads hover close, breaths heavy, uneven.
“This is a bad idea,” I whisper, and she nods. “You’re my employee.” Another nod. “And you’re younger than me.”
This time, she doesn’t hesitate. She kisses me, rising onto her tiptoes. Her hands slide up to my shoulders as her mouth finds mine with a confidence that steals whatever control I thought I had left.
I move, guiding her backwards until the back of her legs hits the bed. She stumbles slightly, but I catch her, my hands tightening instinctively at her waist.
Her fingers trail down my chest, working open the buttons of my shirt one by one.
I let her take the lead, watching as her hands brush over my skin. I close my eyes. It’s been too long since anyone touched me like this.
When I open my eyes again, she’s watching me with uncertainty.
That hesitation should be my out. Instead, it drags me deeper.
“Wynter,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I intend.
She doesn’t answer, instead, she reaches for me again. And that’s it. Whatever restraint I had left, snaps.
I pull her closer, my hands firm on her waist, grounding myself in the reality of her standing here, choosing this.
“Are you sure?” I ask, forcing the words out. Because this isn’t something I can undo.
Her hands glide over my shoulders, pushing the shirt off until it drops to the floor. Her eyes lock with mine as she pulls at mybelt, making quick work of unfastening it, then sliding it from the loops and adding it to where the shirt lay.
My grip tightens slightly. “I need to hear you say it.”
Her eyes search mine full of heat as she grips the hem of her dress and lifts it over her head. I inhale sharply, my eyes fixed on the black lace bra.
“Say it, Wynter,” I growl. “Because once we do this . . .”
There’s no going back.
“I’m sure,” she whispers.
