Page 116 of The Perfect Mistake

“I said I can’t give you what you want. Not that I don’t want you.” He fingers the lapels of Todd’s suit jacket thrown over my shoulders. His frown turns into a sneer. “You knew I was watching.”

“No, I didn’t. Because you haven’t been paying attention to me all night.”

His hand tightens over mine, and he tugs me down the corridor, pushing open the first door he finds. It’s to an office, dark and tidy. He shuts the door behind us.

“I’ve only been paying attention to you.” His hands grip the jacket and push it off me, letting it fall to the floor. “Come here.”

He kisses me. His lips are hard against mine, determined, and I soften under the onslaught. It’s like a drug, touching him, kissing him. Feeling his arms around me.

I wish I didn’t crave it the way I do.

“If you’re sleeping with me,” he mutters, his hands sliding down to grip my ass, “you’re not sleeping with anyone else.”

“That goes for you, too,” I say. He smells good, like cologne and warm skin.

He chuckles against my temple. “I can’t even think about anyone else. There’s only you. There’s only been you for a long time. Even before you became my nanny.”

I lean back. “Before?”

His gaze drops down to my lips, and his thumb traces along my jaw. “Yes. I tried not to notice it, to notice you… but of course I did. So pretty. It was hard not to think about you.”

I feel like I can’t breathe.

“And so nice,” he mutters.

“Nice?”

“Mm-hmm.” His eyes grow hooded, and he pulls me closer. “Genuinely nice. Good. Sweet and determined, and I wanted you even then, but knew I had no right to have you.”

“You have every right,” I whisper.

His lips hover over mine. “Don’t wear another man’s jacket again.”

“Then let me wear yours in public,” I whisper back.

Alec groans, and his hands tighten around my body. “You know why I can’t do that.”

“No,” I say against his lips. “I don’t. If you want me… make me yours.”

He kisses me again, strong, bruising brushes of his lips against mine. His hands slide down under my ass and he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my feet together at the small of his back.

Every kiss says the same thing. You are mine. He supports me easily, groaning when I grip his hair tight.

“I can’t think when you’re around,” he mutters. He kisses my neck, down to the slim strap of my little red dress. “It’s fucking infuriating.”

“What do you think it’s been like for me?” I murmur.

There’s not enough air between us, and still far too much. I push my hand inside the tight collar of his shirt, trying to reach his skin. Anything to touch and to get closer.

He tugs the strap of my dress down, kissing my collarbone. His lips burn. “I need you all the time,” he admits. “I hate you a bit for that, sweetheart. For making me need someone again.”

I run my hand through his hair. “I know. I feel it, too.”

“Don’t flirt with other men,” he admonishes.

“Then don’t tell me this is just sex.”

His lips brush mine. “It’s not just sex,” he says. “And so help me, I don’t want it to be. I do want to make you mine.”

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