Page 49 of My Favorite Boss

“Then we’re in agreement.”

“You can’t treat me differently.”

“I can’t promise that. I feel very differently about you than anyone else.” I paused, rubbing my lip. “When I realized it was you those women were disparaging at the dinner, I almost lost it. After Rylee told me what had happened the day before, I was furious. Angrier than I could ever recall feeling.” I barked out a dry laugh. “And that is pretty angry. Usually, my mother holds that spot. I have never felt the need to stand up for someone else the way I did for you. The need to make sure you were shielded from them was intense.”

She smiled. “No one has protected me that way since my dad got sick.”

I returned her smile with one of my own and leaned close to kiss her cheek. “So I will try to be the boss during business hours. But if someone comes after you, I can’t promise anything.”

“The same goes for you.”

I grinned. “Yeah, Myers?”

“I’ll go up against your mother for you again.”

“Oh God,” I said, widening my eyes. “What story will you tell her next time?”

She laughed, and I loved the sound of her amusement. It made me want to laugh with her.

“I’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you will. Try to keep it PG this time.”

“I can’t promise anything. My mouth does get me in trouble at times.”

I traced her full lips. “I’m rather fond of this mouth.”

“Yeah?” she whispered, kissing my finger, teasing it with the end of her tongue.

“Are you done with that sandwich?” I asked, my question coming out on a low growl.

She nodded, sliding her plate on top of mine.

Seconds later, she was on my lap, our mouths fused together.

I reclined back on the love seat, Myers a snuggled ball of warmth on top of me. As we’d discovered, her love seat was a lot sturdier than my office chair. Our kisses led to touching, then to our clothing being discarded carelessly once more. Luckily, I had another couple of condoms with me I’d grabbed from my private bathroom at the office, and I had the pleasure of watching her ride me again, this time the act happening leisurely with a sea of pillows around us. I pulled a blanket over us once we were cleaned up, and I discovered how much she loved to be held. She made the softest noises in the back of her throat as I stroked her neck and spine, tracing my fingers over her tattoo.

“When did you get this?” I asked.

“When I was twenty-one. I was named after my grandmother, and she died just before my birthday. I got it in her memory.” She tapped her shoulder. “The date is here.”

“Ah,” I said, pulling her back down. “I’m sorry, Maggie darling.”

She snuggled closer. “I like it when you call me that.”

“Tell me about your grandmother.”

“My mom died when I was very young. I barely remember her. We came to live with my gran. In this house.”

“What?” I asked.

“I grew up here.”

“Why are you living in the basement?”

She sighed. “After Gran died and Dad got sick, I knew I had to sell the house. I needed the money to make sure he had a safe, nice place to be looked after in once I couldn’t care for him myself. The government-run homes are terrible. I wanted him to have a place where he’d be happy.” She paused, and I felt the emotion coursing through her, so I held her tighter.

“How long ago was that?” I asked.