Page 26 of Dear Grumpy Boss

Sasha

I can’t breathe.

And not just because we’re running through the dark corridor like fugitives. Every few steps, Zayn stops, pushes me against the wall and kisses the hell out of me. For a man who rarely touches anyone, his kisses have their own language.

A thrill runs through me as I wonder if this new language is only for me.

Tucked into the alcove, with people blindly milling about, his kiss was soft and tender, an unspoken promise.

At the ballroom’s exit, it was biting and hard, a lesson in primal need.

In the darkness that envelops us in the corridor now, it is ragged and desperate and…demanding.

My lips tingle and my heart’s playing trampoline inside my chest. I feel punch-drunk, even though I had only one glass of champagne. This feels like a grand adventure and Zayn is the scary ride I’ve always stared at with longing.

Now, though, I’m so ready to ride him.

A giggle escapes me and he cages me against the wall and takes my mouth again, as if he needs to capture the sound. Hislips are cool and I sip at them greedily. With my sight gone, the oak and cedar scent of him hits deeper.

“I love it when you laugh, Mouse,” he says, his hands stroking and cupping me everywhere. “Tell me what brought it on so I can do it again.”

We’re moving again, with me tucked up under his shoulder. His tone sneaks into my heart and coils there. I rarely ever hear him plead for anything. He usually growls and grumbles his way through life.

My face flames but I push the words out. “I…was just thinking that this is my version of extreme adventure and you’re the most thrilling ride I’ve ever encountered and how much I want to…ride you.”

His grip tightens over my waist and his gaze finds mine in the darkness. Beautiful amber eyes pin me as if I were an exotic butterfly. “Soon.”

His promise is silken and sinful.

My heart pounds in my ears, louder than the distant rumble of thunder, as we go up a flight of winding stairs. The metal banister is cool under my fingertips.

Without so much as a missed step, Zayn walks toward the fourth door in another dark corridor. The keycard beeps and glows green and he pushes the door open.

Fresh shock keeps me rooted to the spot as he closes the door behind us. The luxury suite is lit up by candles on every available surface.

It looks like a scene out of a cozy romance novel.

The large crackling fireplace casts a warm glow that flickers against the walls, creating fleeting patterns in the darkness. Beyond the open door of the terrace, the sounds of the storm are comforting, given this cocoon we’re wrapped in. The scent of rain-soaked earth and something like lavender fills the air.

As my eyes adjust to the dimness, I make out the contours of the suite—a stylish velvet sofa, a white marble coffee table gleaming beneath several platters of tiny, colorful desserts and fruits, and a champagne bucket.

And there at the center of the opposite wall is the most luxuriously decadent bed I’ve ever seen, with white sheets and a footstool to climb into it.

“Zayn,” I whisper, my skin hot despite the chilly air breezing in. “What did you do?”

His hands land on my shoulders. I close my eyes to better absorb the feeling of him framing me like this.

He gathers my hair, pulls it to the side. For one wonky breath, I feel him fisting it. My scalp prickles with a new awareness of his need. And finally, God, I’m ready to meet it. To fulfill it.

He throws my hair over my shoulder, his breaths playing with the small hairs on the nape of my neck. “I stole you away, Mouse. Everybody and everything else is taken care of. Tonight, I get to spoil you.”

The raspy slide of the zipper is louder than the stuttering beat of my heart. His fingers are cold—or my skin blazing hot—as he sneaks them under the dress and pushes it off my shoulders.

It slithers down my breasts and settles at my hips. The snap of my bra sends a shuddering shiver through me. It barely falls at our feet when his hands come around to cup my breasts.

With a rough groan, I press back into him. Already my flesh anticipates his special brand of possession.

My moan sounds erotic to my own ears as he pinches and tugs my nipples into plump, needy peaks. Stretching to my toes, I throw my hands around his neck as he strokes my shoulders, my breasts, and then my belly.

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