Page 39 of The Rogue

I nearly crash with a half-naked body as it passes in front of me.

Tessa gasps, throwing a hand to her chest. My gaze draws up from her bare legs, the tight spandex shorts around her hips and the sports bra covering her chest.

Gripping her forearms, I haul her to the bedroom across mine, shut her door and crowd her against it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I grit.

Breath hitching, she stares up at me. Her hair and face are damp. The top of her breasts glisten with sweat, and I struggle to keep my eyes on hers. Swallowing, she answers. “I think that’s my question.”

“Jackson could have stepped out of his room. You can’t be walking around in your underwear.”

Her expression hardens and she pins me with those whiskey-colored eyes. “I can see how this might bother you.” She juts out her hips, hitting my erection, causing me to grunt in response. “But how is this a problem for someone who won’t be up for hours?”

Lifting her arms above her head, I growl. “Don’t do that again.”

Tearing her heated gaze from my lips, she meets my eyes. “I thinkinappropriatewent out the window when you shut me in here and pinned me against the wall, Indie.”

She has a point.

I release her and storm to the wardrobe, pulling the doors apart.

Empty.

“Where are your clothes?”

Sighing, she crosses to the nightstand and pulls at the drawers. “There. Will you be inspecting my room on a daily basis?”

What is wrong with this woman? Who shoves their stuff into tiny nightstand drawers? “This room doesn’t have closets. Hang your clothes in the wardrobe.”

“No.” The answer comes fast and flat.

“Fine, I don’t fucking care where you put your clothes, as long as you’re fully dressed when you walk out this door. Jackson is nine years old.Nine. Not three. You need to be more conscious.” Scanning her once more, I take note of just how sweaty and winded she is. “How long was your workout?”

She looks to the side as if she’s guilty of something. “I was up at four.”

I drag a hand through my hair. “I’ll leave you to it. Meet me downstairs in an hour.”

Sweat drips down my face as I grip the cold metal again, muscles straining with the weight.

It’s a rhythm I’m used to.

It should be mindless. Purposeless.

Instead, Tessa’s face, the rise and fall of her chest, and her damp skin linger on the edge of my focus likeshe’smy motivation.

I check the time and it’s like I’m competing with her, because until I get that full hour, I’m not leaving this room.

I dab my face and pecs with a clean towel and climb the steps back to the front hall. Then start a pot of coffee.

I grip the edge of the counter, biting down a growl.

I’ve got to stop being a dick to her.

And I’ve got to keep my hands off Tessa Banks— stealing glances at her skin every chance I get. I damn near lost myself in her bedroom.

It would have been so easy.

Just the feel of her skin under my fingertips sent me soaring past levels of appropriate boss-employee behavior. All that was missing was a taste of that pretty little mouth. The mouth that curved up a tad when she called me out on my hardon.

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