Page 14 of One Wicked Night with the Boss

My world tilted then righted itself as pieces fell into place, giving me answers I would have figured out on my own if I hadn’t been so hot-tempered and arrogant.

She hadn’t dressed to seduce me. She got the perfect job opportunity on short notice and scrambled to find an outfit. Electricians from South Boston made good money, but not the kind that paid for Harvard.

I owed her an apology. But for the moment, I needed to take care of her. I started unbuttoning my shirt.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Making you a bandage.” I shrugged out of my button down, then pulled my undershirt over my head.

She dropped her gaze to my bare chest, and her eyes widened even more.

I ripped the undershirt into strips—something an eight-year-old could have done. But the primitive part of my brain still liked showing off for her. Liked the appreciation in her blue eyes as she watched my muscles shift and flex. I wasn’t a gym rat, but I kept in good shape. My arms were ripped enough, my stomach toned. I enjoyed the occasional pasta dinner, but I tried to hit the treadmill often enough to keep love handles at bay. Judging from the hunger in her gaze, my efforts were more than adequate.

And that was all I needed to know. We were going with Plan A, after all.

“Give me your hand,” I told her.

She blinked, as if she snapped out of a daze. Moonlight turned her eyes silver as she placed her hand in mind. There was a long gash on the meaty part of her thumb. Nothing serious, but I bet it stung like a bitch.

I made a soft tsking sound. “Poor thing.” I flashed her a sympathetic smile. “No more climbing for you.”

She watched as I wound a strip of my shirt around her hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it.”

“No worries,” I murmured, wrapping it a couple more times. I let quiet stretch between us, then added, “I’m sure we’ll find something to do.”

Her breath caught. We stood so close I could hear cloth rustle as she let it out again. The pink bow between her breasts taunted me like a present under the tree on Christmas Eve. Just a few pops of those buttons and I could unwrap her.

I tied the makeshift bandage in a knot, then lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “There,” I said, keeping our joined hands near my mouth. “All better.”

Her exhale was raggedy. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“What?” I brushed my lips lightly over her knuckles. “Bandage your injury?”

“Kiss your employees.”

“You’re not my employee.” I tugged her closer, until her hips nudged mine and her bare toes bumped my shoes. I lowered my head, my mouth almost touching hers, and whispered, “I fired you.”

She closed the last half-inch of distance between us, making a thrill trip through me as I realized she was just as keyed up. “Actually,” she murmured, “I quit.”

I kissed her with a smile curving my lips, my pulse leaping as I felt her tongue against mine for the first time. She let me in, tipping her head back like she wanted everything I could give her.

Consider it done.I put my hands in her hair, letting the glossy strands tickle my arms as I held her head still for the kiss. She put her arms around me, pressing her body against mine from chest to thigh, her breasts soft and warm against my skin.

Just like that, I needed to feel more of her. All of her. I sucked at her bottom lip, drawing a sweet moan from her, before breaking off the kiss and going to work on her buttons. They gave easily, as I’d known they would, each one releasing a soft pop that made my cock throb harder as I quickly made my way past her bra to her belly.

She stepped back and shrugged out of the shirt, shaking it off like she couldn’t go fast enough. Cheeks flushed, she reached behind her back.

“Ah ah,” I scolded, hooking a finger in her waistband and tugging her back. “Leave the bra for now.” I slid my hands around her hips and over her ass. I palmed her cheeks, pulling her hips against mine, and put my mouth next to her ear. “I want to see what’s under here first.”

Her answer was another soft moan.

I found her zipper and jerked it down, the sound almost erotic in the small, quiet space. A tremor passed through her, and I pressed a warm kiss to her neck before pushing the fabric over her hips. The skirt fell in a heap, leaving her in her bra and panties. I pulled back enough to see and nearly lost control then and there.

Her black lace G-string was little more than a postage stamp, the triangle of material more of a suggestion than a statement. Her pussy peeked through the lace, her lips bare and pouting and perfect. And, sweet Jesus, there was my bow—tiny, pink, and perched on her waistband like icing on a cake. A fitting comparison, since her pussy made my mouth water. My hand seemed to move of its own accord, my fingers nudging the silly scrap of lace to the side. I slipped a finger between her bare lips, finding her hot and damp.

Her hips jerked forward, and she said my name on a gasp.

Okay, so maybe we were going with Plan A in hyperdrive.

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