Page 32 of Promise Me Forever

He’s standing close to me, the elation of the moment seeming to override his usual reserve. He normally keeps his distance, physically and emotionally, making sure everything stays on a purely professional level. But now, as he looms over me, so close I swear I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, I feel weak. My legs are unsteady beneath me, and my hands are desperate to reach out and touch him.

Our eyes lock, and his tongue flicks out to lick his lips. Oh lord. His tongue. His magical, mystical tongue. The way it can make me beg for mercy, scream for more…

“Amelia,” he says simply, his voice a deep growl that echoes the way I feel inside. I gulp in air, knowing a blush is rising up over my chest. His eyes travel down to my breasts, and he reaches out, one big hand taking hold of the little cord that secures my wrap dress in place. All he has to do is tug it in the right way, and the whole thing will fall open. I will be standing before him in my bra, stockings, panties, and pearls, and I can’t think of anything I want more. He tilts his head, dark eyes intense, one eyebrow quirked in a question. It feels like the rest of the world has disappeared, the whole of New York has fallen away, and all that’s left is us two. This moment. What might come next.

I sigh and am just about to murmur his name when my stomach decides to speak for me. It rumbles, so loud and insistent that it can’t be ignored by either of us. In fact, it probably can’t be ignored by passing satellites in outer space.I let out an embarrassed “Oh!” and my hand flies up to cover my mouth. He snatches his fingers away and takes a few very deliberate steps back, putting some distance between us. It’s certainly for the best, but part of me wants to cry from disappointment.

“Sorry.” I wince. “I didn’t manage to actually eat any lunch on my break today.”

Concern colors his expression. “How long has it been since you ate?”

“I had a bagel at about ten,” I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I’m good.”

“That was like what, eleven hours ago? You need to eat, Amelia.”

He’s still calling me Amelia, I notice, but now he sounds borderline annoyed with me. Or maybe with himself—who knows? I definitely wasn’t the only one feeling the intensity of that moment, and it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that he’s pissed at himself for his reaction.

“It’s really no big deal,” I reply. “It’s not like I’m wasting away. I could stand to miss a few meals.” It’s meant to be a lighthearted comment, but his expression darkens, and I wonder what the hell I’ve done wrong now. His moods are exhausting, and it’s been a long enough day. I’m about to make my excuses when he speaks, his tone firm.

“You could not stand to miss a few meals. You need to look after yourself if you’re going to look after your mom.”

“What?” I splutter. “I’ve looked after my mom for years, and we’re perfectly fine. I’m not a child, and you’re not my father. I can decide for myself when I eat and when I don’t, thank you very much.” Right on cue, my stomach pipes up again.

His lips quirk up in a lopsided grin, and I can’t help but see the humor of it all. I want to stay angry with him, but the twinkle in his eyes is such a joyous thing to witness that it’s impossible.“Okay!” I throw my hands up in surrender. “You’re right,Dad. I need to eat. I’ll go straight home and get started on that roast beef.”

“No, that won’t do. I’ll order some food in. There’s still work to be finished off here, and we both need to eat.”

I want to say no—sharing a meal feels too intimate somehow. Last time we shared a meal, it was breakfast, and that ended up with me getting fucked on the dining table. That desk of his is looking awfully inviting right about now.

“I don’t think so, Mr. James. I should really be going. I’m sure you can finish up here.”

“Are you scared?” he asks, watching as I slip my shoes back on.

Absolutely petrified, if I’m telling the truth. The way I react to this man is so unpredictable, I have whiplash from jerking myself around. It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore. “Am I scared of food? No.”

“Are you scared of me?”

I narrow my eyes at him, angry that he’s nailed it but even more angry that I feel it. It might be true, but he has no right to make it real by speaking the actual words. “Why would I be scared of you, Mr. James? You’re just my boss, and I’ve had far scarier bosses than you.”

I put some sass into my voice, channeling a little inner Scarlet to help me out. Sometimes, I really don’t recognize myself when I’m with this man. He brings out sides of me that I never knew existed, and as much as it confuses me, I must admit that I kinda like it.

“Good. Well, you’re not scared of me, so you won’t mind staying a little longer, will you, Miss Ryder? Now, what do you like?”

I blink at him, my mind immediately spinning off in an entirely inappropriate direction. I mean, him eating me waspretty amazing. But feeling his giant dick pushing inside me, his fingers on my clit? Also amazing. An impossible choice, really. What do I like? An unanswerable question.

“For dinner,” he adds, the glint in his eyes suggesting he knows exactly where I disappeared off to.

“Right. I knew that. Uh, I like anything. I’m easy.” Shit. I’m off-balance now, and my brain doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Probably because my libido is sucking all my energy down to the space between my thighs instead.

He arches an eyebrow. “Thai?”

For a second, my mind turns cartwheels. Tie? His necktie? The one that’s dangling deliciously low on his shirt? Or the tie that holds my dress together, the one he was so close to tugging earlier?

“Do you like Thai food?” he clarifies. “And are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I nod quickly, my cheeks burning. “And yes, I love Thai!” I’m breathless and overenthusiastic, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he flicks his finger across the screen of his phone.

“Then you’re about to eat the best Thai food you’ve ever tasted.”

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