Page 32 of Bossed By the Orc

Not that any employee has the right to think of the boss the way you do.

I tried to shut up the annoying voice in my head, but she was right. I’d been trying to draw lines between myself and Dristan, but none of them seemed to be sticking on my end. Biting my lip, I snuck out into the living area and found that Dristan wasn’t there. He was probably either in his study or taking a shower.

Trying to shake off the image that sprouted into my head of Dristan naked under the spray of water—his hair slicked back and his muscles, that I’d only ever imagined, flexing under the droplets—I hurried to the kitchen. I began gathering ingredients and prepping, peeking toward the doors of the study and the hallway to the bedrooms in case I could hear him coming.

By the time the barely-seared steak was done and resting, next to a bed of baby potatoes and green beans, he still hadn’t emerged. If he waited too long, his food would go cold.

I made my way over to the study first, knocking on the door, but there was no response. I went to his bedroom next, hesitating for a long moment before rapping my knuckles against the wood.

“What?” his gruff response came through the thick oak.

“I made dinner,” I called, nerves wracking me until I felt sick to my stomach. There was silence on the other side of the door until I heard the click of the handle. Stepping back, I watched as he lounged in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, and he stayed where he was. His jacket was off, his crisp shirt molding lovingly to the muscles in his arm and chest as he braced his forearm against the doorway.

“I wanted to apologize, Dristan,” I told him in a rush. “I should have asked you from the start. I know that you’re a good male.” I swallowed hard, holding my hand out to him. “Can I wave my white flag with a steak?”

He narrowed his eyes but reached out, snagging my palm in his. “What kind of steak?”

“Raw steak,” I said with a grin, my stomach quivering with nerves and arousal when he didn’t release my hand.

He grunted his approval, heading toward the kitchen with me in tow.

Chapter Twenty

Penelope

“I don’t accept your apology,” Dristan said as he groaned with appreciation over his first bite of steak, “but you’ve made some headway with this meal.”

“Why do I even have to apologize?” I laughed, glancing down at where he was toying with my fingers on the table. I struggled to eat with one hand, but for some reason, I didn’t want him to release me.

It was easy to push boundaries when it came to Dristan, but I had to remember who he was—what he was. My boss. I couldn’t let the overwhelming comfort I felt with him overtake the facts.

“You didn’t tell me everything when you accepted the job. I could have given you the damn advance right away,” he groused.

I tried to hide my smile, but it was difficult to do when he was pouting—and what a spectacular pout it was.

“It feels like you don’t trust me,” he added. His yellow gaze was on me now, narrowed with censure.

“I barely knew you when I accepted the job, Dristan,” I whispered, the moment feeling intimate as I continued, “I still don’t know you as well as I want to.” His eyes darkened to amber at my words and I had to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “But I trust you.”

“How much do you trust me?” he asked, abandoning his food and turning to face me, both my hands in his now.

We’d taken seats at his huge island for an informal meal, seated next to each other rather than at the table where there’d be more space between us. Evading his sharp, searching gaze, I focused on where our hands met. His huge and dark green, veined and powerful. Mine, brown and delicate in comparison.

“You’re a good male,” I whispered, keenly aware that I was baring something to him that I shouldn’t. I was crossing a line that I didn’t know how to undo. “You’re the only male outside of my family that I’ve ever trusted fully. And it’s insane because I’ve only known you for a short time, but—” I looked up into his eyes—that were darkening by the second. “—I can’t help myself.”

The growl that left his throat before he dipped his head warned me that he was coming. It didn’t matter how much warning I received, though. In that moment, nothing could have stopped me from leaning up to meet him.

Our lips met and I felt a sizzle all the way down to my toes. I’d never kissed an orc before. Mostly humans and one shifter—in his human form. His mouth was wider than mine and his tusks presented a tantalizing challenge.

His lips were unexpectedly soft—softer than I’d ever imagined and he was so tender I wanted to cry. He kissed me like I was porcelain. The gentlest, sweetest meeting of lips.

That didn’t last long though. He took control with one gentle thumb under my chin, tipping my face upward toward him. My lips parted automatically and I was introduced to the wonders of his tongue.

It was pointed at the tip, strong and long. Intriguingly long, but I tried to keep those thoughts under check.

“Dristan,” I murmured against his lips and that spurred him on. He deepened the kiss and I was lost.

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