Page 17 of One Wicked Night with the Boss

Sweat cooled on my skin, and I shivered.

He let my legs down slowly and slipped his semi-hard cock from my sex. Then he pulled me away from the grate, supporting me when I might have melted to the floor.

“Come here,” he whispered, guiding my head to his shoulder and putting his arms around me. Drowsy and sated, I closed my eyes.

But only for a second.

Light flared outside my closed lids. I popped my eyes open.

And there she was.

Dressed in a long gown with a prominent bustle, she stood near one of the French windows. It was impossible to tell the color of her dress or even her hair, as she was lit by a blue glow that shimmered around her like an aura.

My heart skipped a beat. Maybe it stopped beating entirely. Just when my mind processed what I was seeing, she shifted her gaze to Jonathan. She studied him a second before looking at me and raising an eyebrow. Then her lips curved in a small smile, and she faded away, the blue dissipating as if it had never been.

It took me a second to find my voice. “Jonathan.”

“Hmm?” He sounded for all the world like someone who just woke from a nap.

I jerked my head up and squeezed his arms. “I just saw—” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “I mean I think I saw—”

His eyes widened. “You saw Violet?” He glanced at the window.

“Who?”

“Violet Merriman.” He smiled. “She doesn’t show herself very often.”

“You didn’t see her?”

“Not this time.”

My mind reeled as it sunk in that not only was he not dismissing my claim, he was corroborating it. I nibbled my bottom lip. “Tom said she only appears to people she likes.”

“Well, she likes me, then.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “What about you? Do you like me?”

Without warning, the lights blazed to life. At the same moment, the elevator lurched and started to descend.

I yelped and scrambled out of his embrace, then scooped my clothes from the floor and dressed as fast as I could. For once, I didn’t mind the old elevator’s slow descent. It gave me time to button my shirt and stuff my feet into my heels.

“You forgot these.”

I looked up and found Jonathan twirling my G-string around his index finger.

My cheeks blazed but I lifted my chin. “It’s not fair. All you had to do is put your dick back in your pants. Bam. Dressed.”

He stopped his twirling and gave me a devilish look. “I might keep these. I’m partial to this little pink bow.”

The elevator jerked to a halt. He crossed the small space and took me in his arms. “This is my floor.”

“I remember. I used to work here.” Even through my shirt, his touch seared my skin—as if he’d branded me and now my body would forever recognize his.

His smile faded, and his gaze grew earnest. “I owe you an apology. About the photos.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” He rubbed a soft thumb across my lower lip. “You’re sexy and gorgeous and enough temptation for twenty men. But you’re also hard-working and wicked smart.”

The last made my lips part. His Southie accent came out of nowhere, the “smaht” striking a chord of recognition in my soul.

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