Page 24 of One Night on the Naughty List

She nodded, her cheeks going pink.

I kissed the tip of her nose, unable to resist teasing her. “Still shy with me after all that?”

“It’s just…” She licked her lips, her expression serious. “What about the office? I can’t have sex with the boss.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think you just did.” I nudged my hips forward, letting her feel my cock still buried in her pussy. “Yep. You screwed the boss.”

“Bain.”

“Samantha.”

She tried to look irritated, but she ended up smiling. “I love the way you say that.” She dragged a hand over my stubble, and I turned my cheek into her palm, practically purring like a goddamn cat. Her smile grew, and she added, “I don’t even mind not having a Bain name.”

I cocked my head. “A what?”

Her dimples flashed. “You don’t know about that? You give everyone at work nicknames. Kara calls them Bain names.”

“Nothing but trouble, that Kara Kara.”

“Exactly.”

She was cute as hell and so completely irresistible I kissed her again, my chest mashed against her soft breasts as I took her mouth. She tasted of peppermint, sugar, and a faint hint of tequila, and I smiled, knowing she’d had my signature drink—crushed candy canes, schnapps, and a whole lot of Patrón.

Her fingers stroked through my hair, and I forgot all about alcohol as goosebumps rose on my skin and I sucked on her bottom lip, just absolutely lost in her.

When we were both breathless, I pulled back and stared into her eyes. “I think I have the perfect Bain name for you. And it might solve the whole sex-with-your-boss problem, too.”

She looked up at me, waiting.

“I won’t call you Samantha,” I said softly, stroking her hair again. “I’ll call you my girlfriend. And, in time, I hope to call you something infinitely more dear.”

Her lips parted, and for a second she seemed to stop breathing. “Did you just quote a Mister Darcy line?”

“Guilty. You already know about my Project Runway habit. You might as well know about the Jane Austen movies, too.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Bain Thatcher, I think you might be the perfect man.”

“Not perfect,” I said, bending to kiss her again. “Just perfectly yours.” I slipped out of her and rolled, tucking her body against mine.

She snuggled her face in the hollow of my neck and gave a contented sigh.

Maybe I wasn’t the perfect man, but I was a goddamn lucky one.

Drowsiness tugged at me, and I held her tighter, ready to give into sleep. Just as I drifted off, a woman’s muffled shriek sounded from downstairs.

“Who promised the kids Mountain Dew?!”

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