Page 74 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

I started tearing up when she wrote in her journal how broken she felt.

These last few days, I’ve woken up before the light of morning to see Dexter inches from me, his breaths steady and deep as he slumbers by my side. He has been true to his word and not once touched me. At least, not physically. Emotionally, he pricks me, making me feel as if I’m bleeding drops of self-doubt. How can I truly trust him if I don’t even trust myself? I ache to reach out and touch his bare skin, to feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand. To have his strong arms enfold me and keep me as emotionally safe as he has kept me from physical harm. Is that even possible?

I wiped my tears. It was like reading an autobiography, except I wasn’t on the run with a handsome yet mysterious man who knew everything about me. But I was working for one who emotionally and physically touched me. Who wrote words that came straight out of a chapter of my heart. How did he do that? Did it mean anything?Chapter Twenty-EightI noticed a light on in Miles’s office before I went in to wake up Henry for the day. We had a big day planned that started with story time at the library with my meddling friends who were all worried about me and decided to crash toddler time. Then I was taking him to the early works museum we had in town.

All good activities that didn’t involve being around his uncle. His uncle, who kept me up late into the night mesmerized with his words. Not only did I devour the entire manuscript, but I went back to re-read several parts. Especially those that involved Isabella and Dexter almost kissing, or some of their fights. They were delicious scenes. Miles had upped his game, especially the sexual tension. I guess he took my mom’s words to heart. I held his manuscript to me as I would my child. It was better than I’d hoped. I wanted to kiss him for it, and I didn’t mean that figuratively. But I wouldn’t.

I decided to creep down the hall and give him back his manuscript. He said he was waiting to write more until I got it back to him. Which made me curious as to why he was already in his office. There was no singing going on, so he wasn’t following his rituals, unless I’d missed that. But surely that would have woken up Henry.

I lightly rapped on his door. “Miles?”

“Come in,” he called right away.

I walked in to find him looking a little harried, sitting at his desk, eyes fixed on the sketch I had given him. And OH, HOLY MOTHER, he was shirtless, wearing only pajama pants. That answered that question. He, like Dexter, had a nicely defined chest with the perfect amount of dark hair, with some sexy gray strands playing among them. So sexy you wanted to nestle your head on his chest and run your hands across it repeatedly.

Stop. Stop, Aspen. Avert your eyes, woman! My head went overboard and looked straight up at the ceiling. I. Was. An. Idiot.

Miles stood and looked up at the tray ceiling. “Something amiss, love?”

Uh, yeah. You’re shirtless and I want to pet you. My head lowered to normal levels as did his. Our eyes met in the middle. In his, I saw distress. “Are you all right?” I asked.

He swallowed hard. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Hmm. That is a good question. Not one I have an answer for at this time.”

“Will you let me know when you do?” Oh, my gosh. That came out way too flirty. I was supposed to be professional.

He ran his hands through his mussed hair. “You will be the first to know.” His eyes drifted toward the folder I was clutching in my arms. “How far did you get?” He was anxious to know.

Against my better judgment, I approached his desk. Seriously, I should have kept a ten-foot barrier between us at all times, but as always, I kept finding myself drawn to him. I handed him the folder. “I finished it.”

His tired eyes came to life. “And?” He took the folder from me.

“It was amazing. I can’t wait to see where you go with it.”

Relief washed over him as he sank into his chair.

“I did make a few notes, but it was mostly typos and a few clarifications. I also,” I bit my lip, “made a title suggestion.”

He started furiously flipping through the pages. “Don’t leave me in suspense; where is it?”

“I’ll let you discover it. I’ll bring Henry by soon for a dance party. You might want to throw on a shirt before I record it, or your publisher will get inundated with panties or knickers as you would call them.”

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