Page 103 of Saved By the CEO

“Because I wanted to tell you that I got the job.”

His eyes stay on mine. “You’ve done that.”

“Yes.”

“Is that the only reason?”

I swallow. “No.”

The air between us feels suddenly thin, like there isn’t enough of it in the room. Andrew is close enough now that I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the soft worn edge of his T-shirt collar, the pulse moving once at the base of his throat.

“Carly,” he says, and there is a warning in it. One last door left open, in case I want to run.

I don’t.

“I’m not your assistant anymore.”

“You technically still are.”

“But soon I won’t be. That’s a fact,” I say, moving closer. We’re just an arm’s length apart now. If I wanted to, I could reach out and touch him. “I know it’s complicated. I know there are still things we probably need to talk about.” I take a breath. “But I am here because I got the job and because you’re the person I wanted to tell.” Before I lose my nerve, I add, “And because I’m tired of fighting this, and I think you are too.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

Then he reaches for my face, his fingers brushing my jaw so gently it almost makes my knees give out. “Yeah, I am,” he says, his voice low. “Now what?”

I hold his gaze while gathering every ounce of courage I have. All of it. Every sad little scrap.

“Now I want you to kiss the ever-loving shit out of me, Andrew Bennett.”

There is a beat of silence.

Then he does.

Andoh man, does he take the request seriously.

Both hands cradle my face as his mouth comes down on mine. It’s raw and hungry and a little messy in the best possible way. He kisses me like a starving man, like he has been holding himself back for far too long.

Maybe he has.

God knows I have.

The relief of it hits almost as hard as the kiss itself. There’s no pretending now. No invisible line that we’re both trying not to cross. There is only Andrew’s mouth on mine, his hands in my hair and my fingers twisted in the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

I push closer, and he makes a low sound against my mouth.

He releases my face only to grip the backs of my thighs, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My legs lock around his waist, and he turns toward the kitchen counter, but I break the kiss just long enough to say, “bedroom.”

The trip down the hall is a blur of mouths and hands and me trying very hard not to make an embarrassing noise every time his fingers dig into my thighs. The bedroom door opens with a push of his hip, hitting the wall with a soft thud, and then we’re inside, surrounded by dim light and cool air and the faint, clean smell of him.

A few seconds later, my back hits his very expensive mattress.

His mouth finds mine again immediately. Then my jaw. My neck. The spot just below my ear that makes my whole body go loose and stupid. One of his knees presses into the mattress between mine, and the bed dips under his weight as he leans over me.

I push at his shoulders before I lose the ability to form words.

“Undress,” I say, as sternly as I can while lying breathless on his bed.

A low sound leaves him, almost a laugh. “Bossy.”