Page 63 of Bossman

“Top.” He pointed his fork at me. “See how compatible we are. Lights on or off?”

“On. You?”

“On. So I can watch your face while I sink inside of you.”

Warmth prickled my skin. I gulped. “You’re not supposed to elaborate. You’re only supposed to say your pick.”

“Why would I do that, when giving a more descriptive answer makes your skin turn such a sexy shade of pink?”

We went back and forth like that for the rest of our meal, sharing snippets of both sexy and not-so-sexy preferences. It did what I’d intended it to do—lightened the mood—but it also had desire fighting the voice of reason inside of me.

And, at the moment, desire was kicking reason’s ass.

After dinner, when Chase and I arrived at our adjoining suites, I felt like I was ending a first date in high school.

He took both my hands in his, keeping a few feet between us as he spoke. “Thank you for having dinner with me. And for letting me crash your trip.”

“You were on the plane when I got on. It’s not like I had much of a choice.” I was joking, of course.

“I’m going to take off after the morning focus group, head back to New York on an afternoon flight.”

“You’re leaving? Why?”

“Because I keep pushing, hoping you’ll break. And tonight I realized you need to get there on your own. I’ll be waiting when you do.” He pulled me to him and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Now go inside before I change my mind and you’re up against the door instead of behind it safely.”

***

I leaned my head against the door for a solid ten minutes once I was inside. After five, I’d heard Chase’s door click open and close, and I wondered if he’d been standing on the other side struggling like I was.

I couldn’t remember ever wanting another man as badly as I wanted Chase. For a while, I’d thought it was because he was my boss—that exciting feeling of being tempted by the forbidden. But I knew it was more than that. So much more, it scared the hell out of me. I’d been using the fact that he was my boss as an excuse to keep distance. But the truth was, the things I felt around the man terrified me. I hadn’t exactly been lucky in love. Neither had my parents. Could I find true love in the shadow of another woman?

I was afraid—and I was also tired of being afraid. That realization made me think of his tattoo.

Fear does not stop death. It stops life.

Eight little words, yet it held the story of both of our lives.

As I took a deep breath, it hit me that I hadn’t turned on the lights in my room yet. That was totally unusual for me. Ordinarily, I’d have performed my sweep of the room within ten seconds of entering—checking in the closet and shower, looking under the ever-intimidating bed. Sighing, I forced myself not to look, even though it was now gnawing at me since I’d mentally acknowledged I’d been remiss. At least there was one fear I wasn’t going to allow to control me tonight.

Lying on the floor of my hotel room in the dark, I felt dizzy from my mind spinning. I kept replaying bits and pieces of the conversations we’d had over the last month in my head.

At his house: “If you weren’t seeing someone, I’d have you up on that kitchen island showing you what I want to do to you, rather than telling you.”

I wanted him to show me in the worst way.

In the cab after too much to drink at the club, my sleepy head resting on his warm thighs and brushing against his erection as I sat up when we arrived at my building.

I wanted to feel him. Wrap my fingers around his hard-on and watch his face as I slid my hand up and down.

In his office… “Get out of that wet shirt before I help you out of it right in the middle of my office with the blinds open.”

God, I wanted him to rip my damn shirt off.

Closing my eyes, my hand slid down my body. He was right on the other side of that door. Would he hear me if I brought myself to orgasm? A part of me hoped he would. My hand skimmed over the lace of my underwear once, then a second time, lingering over the sensitive front before slipping inside. My clit was already swollen just thinking about Chase. It was definitely not going to take long. Two fingers gently circled, massaging. Imagining it was Chase’s hand instead of my own, I quickly increased pressure as I found my rhythm.

Images swept through my head.