Page 7 of Tempted By the Bosshole

“Why did you follow me here?”

“Why did you lead me here?”

I can’t not answer him, especially when he watches me like he’s absorbing every detail. “I felt you.”

His teeth flash white in the dark. “Same. The second you walked in the door.”

Lust grips my throat. I should ask his name and what department he works in. Something. Words escape me.

“Whose office is this?” he asks.

“My boss’s.”

“Will he mind?”

“I don’t know. I’m new.”

“But you know your boss, right?”

“Actually, we’ve barely talked. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid, and I don’t remember him much.”

He laughs. “Well, don’t forget it’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. First and last warning. Say no now, or I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”

His words short-circuit my brain. Men really talk that way? It’s not just a fantasy authors write into one-handed reads? Or maybe that’s how he rolls. His demeanor tells me he’s older. His blunt confidence reinforces that.

If he’s any indication, I’ve been swimming in the kiddie end of the dating pool, wasting my time with a boy.

He’s a man.

“Anything to say? Is ‘no’ coming out of that pretty mouth?” His fingertips skate up my arm, but he doesn’t grab me or drag me closer. I can back away. I can escape.

I don’t want to. I shake my head.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t know this man. He makes me feel more alive than I ever have. This must be what people mean when they talk about chemistry. Desire pings between us, electrifying the air. I breathe hard. My knees wobble.

“What are you saying, baby girl?”

“Yes. Please,” I breathe.

“Oh, you’re polite. I like it. You’ll need that later.” His smile widens as he cups my nape and steps against me, all but eclipsing me. The heat of his body radiates through his suit and blast-furnaces away the winter chill seeping through the windows. “I’m going to enjoy every minute of this…”

When his knuckles graze my cheek and his hot breath warms my lips, I dissolve. My eyes slide shut. My body sizzles. Before our mouths even meet, I suspect this man won’t merely adjust my definition of sex. He’ll redefine it forever.

Then he plasters his body against mine. He’s not subtle as he urges me back until I make contact with the wall. When I gasp, he flashes me a shark’s smile as he plants his palm above my head and presses against me. Every part of my body buzzes when he lifts my chin with his free hand and his mouth swoops down to hover over mine.

“Say it again,” he demands. “Tell me you want this.”

“Please.”

My trembling whimper barely brushes his lips before he seizes my mouth and delves inside as if he owns me.

His clean, warm taste, flavored by a hint of scotch, intoxicates my senses. I shudder. I can’t get my hands on him fast enough. I can’t slant my head and take him deep enough.

The stranger pins me to the wall with his hard body and devours me with an exacting, methodical kiss. He’s an expert at dismantling my defenses and awakening me.

I moan and grab his impossibly wide shoulders as his hands wander. While he learns my shape in the dark, my head spins, buzzing with how wrong yet perfect his manhandling feels. Kissing Eric was never like this. I don’t care about trivial things, like breathing. All I want from this man is more.

He grinds his impressive cock between my legs and swipes his thumb across my taut nipple. Another shiver spreads through my body. A groan slips free. I don’t care who he is or where we are. I want him.

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