Page 111 of Sexting the Boss

Neither of us speaks.

Eventually, I shift enough to gently roll to the side, keeping her close, afraid to let go just yet. Her soft exhale warms my shoulder as she tucks her face against my neck, and I hold her there, my heart still hammering.

I know one thing with absolute certainty.

I’m not letting go of her.

17

SASHA

I drift up from sleep,disoriented, the warm press of sheets tangled around my legs. The hush of distant traffic reminds me I’m high above the city. It’s still dark—midnight, maybe?—and the sprawling skyline outside must be lit up in a million points of light.

For a moment, I forget where I am.

Then I shift, the mattress dipping beneath me, and realize there’s a warm body next to me, propped on one elbow.

Damien.

He’s watching me, his expression quietly intense in the faint glow from the city lights seeping in through vast windows. My heart skips a beat. Because he’s not just here—he’s staring like he’s never seen anything so fascinating.

I blink, my pulse picking up. I’m completely naked, the same as he is. Memories of earlier drift through my head in a languid, heated rush—hands gripping skin, breathy moans, and everything else we did.

“Hey,” I mumble, voice still a little groggy.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t even blink.

“Hey yourself,” he says quietly, voice rumbling with sleep.

I swallow, cheeks burning at his unwavering gaze. There’s a vulnerability in being so exposed, both body and soul, and I’m caught between wanting to curl into the sheets and wanting to feel his hands on me again.

“You’re staring,” I manage, forcing a small, nervous laugh.

His lips tilt in a barely there smirk. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

Heat flares low in my belly. I shift just enough for the sheets to slip from my shoulders, and only then do I realize exactly how little I’m covered. My breasts are bare, my skin faintly marked with the evidence of his mouth and hands.

Instinct takes over, and I move to pull the sheets higher, but before I can, he reaches out, gentle but firm, and stills my hand.

“Don’t hide,” he murmurs.

I hesitate, heart thrumming in my ears. Because it’s one thing to be naked under someone in the throes of passion. It’s another to be laid bare in the quiet aftermath, letting him see every inch of me without distraction.

But the look on his face—reverent, adoring—scatters any lingering insecurity.

Slowly, I let the sheets fall away.

He exhales, a slight quiver in his breath, and I see raw admiration flicker in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, matter-of-fact, like it’s a universal truth.

A lump forms in my throat. I fight the urge to argue, to deflect with a joke.

I can’t muster any snark.

“Thanks,” I whisper instead, swallowing hard.

He leans in to brush his lips across mine, a kiss so light it feels like a feather’s touch.

---