Page 21 of My Orc (Secret) Boss

His fingertip, blunted and callused, traced the vine. “This is honeysuckle.”

He recognized it? “Tatiused to say I was honeysuckle.”

“Yes.” His voice had turned raspy, and when his gaze met mine, I saw a green flare. “Strong. Brave. Sweet.”

Oh my God.

I think I probably whimpered.

“Blossom,” he whispered.

“I want to kiss you,” I blurted. Then, before he had time to reply—oh God, I hope he’d been about to agree!—I surged up on my toes and pulled his head down to mine, andI kissed him.

I’d spent years wondering what it would feel like to kiss an orc, with those tusks jutting up from their lower lips, and now I knew: It felt flippingamazing.

No. It’s only this good because this is Memnon.

I knew it was the truth.

He wasn’t a stranger to kissing, like I knew some orcs were. With a little groan, he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me, bringing me closer, his tongue teasing me, his tusks scraping against my cheeks in the most delicious way.

I wanted more. God, I wanted more.

But…was this right? I pulled away, panting, staring into his eyes, so close to mine. I cupped his cheeks. “I don’t want to pressure you, Memnon.”

He blinked, frowning. “Pressure me?”

“I’m your boss,” I reminded him. “It wouldn’t be fair to get into a physical relationship if you feel obligated or pressured into it due to our work relationship.”

He blinked again, and I saw his expression go from confused to angry to vaguely amused. And through it all, he just stood there, holding me. I could feelallof him, including his cock, which pressed against my thigh because he still held me off the ground.

He wanted me as much as I wanted him, but I had to make sure…

“I’m not obligated to you any more than you’re obligated to me,” he finally said.

Obligated…? Oh, he must mean the shower, and the dinner. “You’re sure?” I prompted. “I want to keep kissing you, but?—”

He interrupted me by lifting me, planting his nose against my neck, and inhaling long and slow. “Oh, I want to do more than kiss you, Blossom.”

Then he licked my tattoo. His tusk sent a shiver down my spine that seemed to emerge from my nipples, which were currently pressed against his chest and also hard as rocks.

“Hmmm. I knew you’d taste good,” he murmured.

And I was lost.

With a little whimper, I threw my legs around his waist and tightened my hold on him and went back to kissing.

If he wasn’t going to be bothered by the whole “I’m his boss” thing, then neither would I.

We stumbled to the couch, although I wasn’t sure if my weight was just too much, and his leg gave out. Somehow, we ended up with me straddling him as he dragged one of my dress straps over my shoulder to reveal the tattoo in all its delicate glory.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing it again. I arched my back,feelingbeautiful. And strong, and brave, just like he’d said.

How long had I spent fantasizing about him? And now I was touching,tastingMemnon! I wanted more.

I clasped my hands on either side of his cheeks and kissed him, lifting myself up on my knees to gyrate against his hardness,and I heard—and felt—his groan that worked through his whole body.

Yes.

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