Page 37 of The Wrong Boss

“Stop it.” I clicked my tongue as he marched toward the back seat of the cab. My wriggling didn’t seem to have any effect on his iron grip, so I did the only thing I could think that might slow him down: I tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck.

The look he gave me was dark and furious, and it made liquid heat spread along the insides of my thighs.

So—and don’t ask me why I did this, because I have no idea—I tugged again.

“Careful,” he warned, a rattle in his voice as he said the word.

The way he was acting was so similar to our first meeting that for a moment, I forgot where I was. I forgot who I’d become. Suddenly, I was seven years younger, fresh from a breakup, overwrought, and completely turned on by the handsome man who’d decided he wanted to play the hero.

Then the man in the sedan started yelling at us, and our driver shouted back, and I was jerked back to the present moment. Back to reality.

This wasn’t seven years ago. Cole Christianson was my boss—and worse, he was the father of my child. A child he didn’t know existed.

I couldn’t invite him up to a hotel room and let him have his way with me. I couldn’t throw out common sense and give in to mybasest urges. I had real responsibilities, and the longer I spent in his presence—and his arms—the worse the consequences would be.

I couldn’t afford consequences. Couldn’t afford to lose this job, and I certainly couldn’t afford for him to get the upper hand in this relationship, because he might decide to use it to take my daughter from me.

“Put me down. Sir.” I spat out the last word, meaning for it to sound like an insult.

But Cole’s brow simply twitched a fraction of an inch, and he ignored my directive. “I am taking you to a hospital,” he said.

“You are putting me down right now, you overbearing, domineeringasshole.”

That was harsh. I knew it as soon as it came out of my mouth. But how else was I supposed to make him understand that I wouldnotbe pushed around?

“You hit your head,” he said, voice calm, ignoring the cab driver who’d rolled down his window and called out to us as well as the argument sparking between the sedan owner and our driver. “You need medical attention.”

“I need you to put me down so I can stand on my own two feet.” And wasn’t that just the theme of my life at the moment?

“Just a few hours ago, you were standing on your own two feet and then you fainted. That’s two head knocks in a matter of hours, Ms. Woods.”

His voice was quiet and unyielding. It was exactly the voice he’d used the evening we’d spent together, when he’d wanted me to beg for his cock. A tone that had nearly made me orgasm all on its own.

That pesky heat mounting between my thighs reached a new level.

I was in so much trouble.

There was no way I could allow myself to be attracted to this man. What would happen if he wanted to fight me in family court? He was Goliath, and I’d unfortunately misplaced my trusty slingshot. I couldn’t go up against him in a fight. I was totally powerless—especially when I considered how good it felt to be in his arms.

We stood in the street, my elbow wrapped around his neck while I pressed a bloody tissue to my temple, his arms cradling my body to his. For a long moment, we stared into each other’s eyes.

Our lips were inches apart. I could feel the heat of his breath coasting over my lips, and I wondered what would have happened if I’d found him when I went looking for him all those years ago. Would we have had a chance? Was this energy between us just the product of some incidental sexual chemistry, or was it something more? Would he have wanted a child? Would he have wanted a childwith me?

As my thoughts spun out, I tore my gaze away from his and looked over his shoulder. Beside us, the cab driver swore and drove off, evidently frustrated at the fact that we were just standing there and not getting in the back of his vehicle.

I gulped and tried to come back to myself.

What-ifs were irrelevant. It did me no good to think about what could have happened if I’d found him. I couldn’t craft some sort of fantasy about the life we might’ve had, because thiswas reality. He was engaged to another woman. I had to tell him about our child. He was wealthy, and I was not.

Our lives were a tangled web of barriers and complexities, and the fact that I was attracted to him shouldn’t even have registered as significant. Itwasn’tsignificant.

The only thing that truly mattered was protecting Evie. In order to do that, I needed to keep my head on straight. I needed legal advice. I neededmoney.

“Cole,” I said. “Please put me down.”

I’m not sure what he heard in my voice, but after only a second’s pause, he leaned over and set my feet on the ground. His hands skimmed my hips, steadying me as I caught my balance, and then he took a step back.

His face was an unreadable mask.

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