Page 6 of Tempted By the Bosshole

It doesn’t.

I’ve never felt this alive. My heart thumps. My skin burns. My nipples peak. My pussy clenches.

Who is he? Where is he? How long before he makes his move?

Biting my lip nervously, I wend through the crowd, scanning faces and checking out guys I pass. A man wearing a schlumpy navy-blue suit and a gold band on his left hand talks to a very pregnant Mrs. Force, who is my boss’s boss. She spares me a smile as I walk by and head for another dude a few feet away with a faint tan line on his ring finger. Separated? Divorced? Either way, he’s clearly too busy sucking up to Mr. Force—the company’s hunky, old-money CEO—to be flirting with me. Deeper into the room, a thirty-something guy wearing an ugly Christmas suit flirts with the smiling bartender. Clearly, he’s gay, so he’s not the man staring at me. I still can’t tell who is, but I sense him prowling my way—and closing in.

“What would you like, gorgeous?” asks the mixologist with killer dimples.

Since he’s still making eye contact with ugly-Christmas-suit guy, he’s only complimenting me for a tip.

“White wine.”

The bartender winks and gives me a generous pour as I drop a few bucks in his overflowing cup.

Glass in hand, I search the room again, this time more slowly, probing. Is my watcher one of the IT nerds discussing code and video games? Highly unlikely. Or one of the bigwig hedge-fund managers, all with more money than ethics and a date way out of their league? I doubt it. Maybe one of the buttoned-up suits from Regulatory and Governance? As I pass, I make eye contact with each of them. But no.

None of these guys revs my heart or make me hyperaware that I’m a woman with needs Eric didn’t fulfill. This man… I haven’t seen him, but he makes me giddy. Excitement tightens my throat. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Time to draw him out and get face-to-face with him. After all, Jen swears that the best way to get over one man is to get under another.

My innate caution screams that strangers can be dangerous and stalkers are bad. My body doesn’t care. It’s humming with a throat-gripping sexual awareness I’ve never felt. Besides, he’s someone at my office Christmas party. How dangerous can he be?

Pretending to take in all the decorations, I circle the room. With each step and every breath, I feel his possessive stare.

A thrill shivers through me as I jot down my choices for the department decor prize, then drop the slip of paper in the box. I get a second glass of liquid courage and decide to lure my stranger closer…

Vino in hand, I stroll down a darkened hallway toward my absent boss’s office. My stalker, if he wants me, will have to follow me where he can’t hide or blend in with the crowd.

My heart shifts into overdrive as I open the door to Nathan Price’s domain, lit only by the moon and the city lights. When I glance down the hall, a shadowy figure of a tall man with wide shoulders and a fit form follows, his stride decisive. Confident. Determined.

He’s coming. For me.

Oh. My. God.

I swallow and shut the door in a fit of second-guessing panic. Allowing myself to be cornered isn’t smart. We’re far enough from the music and chatter that no one would hear me scream. He could cover my mouth, tear off my clothes. He could do anything he wanted, and I couldn’t stop him.

I should return to the crowd.

But I don’t.

Moments later, a quiet click fills the silent office. The gleaming knob turns. My heart hammers. I can’t breathe.

He steps inside. Shadow falls across his strong face as his stare fastens on me. I can’t see his features in the dark, only the outline of his muscled form under his suit coat and the glint of lust in his eyes.

“Keep the door open.” My voice shakes.

Purposefully, he shuts and locks it. “I make the rules, baby girl.”

The authority in his voice melts my knees. My heart lurches and thuds. “Why were you watching me?”

“You’re beautiful.”

I’m not used to compliments, especially growled ones. My breath catches. “It’s the dress. I borrowed it from a friend and?—”

“No. It’s you.” He saunters closer, like a man in control of his situation, of his life.

Of what happens next between us.

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