Page 172 of The Wrong Husband
I fantasized about kissing my boss, of course. About being held in his big brawny arms and pressing my palm into his sweaty chest, feeling the aliveness of the blood throbbing through his veins, and sensing the unforgiving strength of him, which was so evident, even clothed in his expensive suits. But this…gentleness, this sense of safety washing over me in his arms is unexpected.
The world around us recedes. The fact that my ex is watching only turns the sparks coursing through my veins into a full-blown fire. It burns through the barriers I throw up against the world, against him. I forget where I am. That I’m his employee. And he’s my boss. I’m only a woman, held against a man who seems to cherish me and want me, and is trying to comfort me. Subconsciously, a part of me realizes that he’s doing this to make my ex jealous, that, in all likelihood, all of this is an act, because he noticed the drama he walked in on and is trying to prove I'm desirable. But another part of me doesn’t care.
After being dumped in such a cold-blooded fashion, my wounded ego wants to bask in the attention of this gorgeous specimen of the male species who I ogled from afar but knewwas never going to be within reach. So, to find myself in his arms is…as much of a surprise as the earth rotating anti-clockwise. And maybe, it’s never going to happen again. And who cares if this is inappropriate? The way he makes me feel is like the most beautiful, most wanted woman in this world, and I’m going to make the most of it.
I rise up on my tiptoes, and when I part my lips, he slants his face, slashes his lips over mine, and then the kiss is everything I imagined it would be from the meeting of our lips. Hard, insistent, demanding and so very hot. Sensations zip through my bloodstream. I feel the touch all the way to the roots of my hair, and my fingertips, and the heels of my feet. Ohmigod, it’s like I’ve been caught in the swell of a wave and am being raised higher and higher to the heavens. Like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like I’m somewhere high up, looking down on the two of us, our breaths entwined, mouths clinging to each other. His self-assured, firm grip on my neck holding me up, and turning me on, and supporting me, at the same time. And me, clutching his shoulders, aware of the smoothness of his jacket under my fingertips, and that bone deep, head spinning sensation of his tongue dancing with mine.
My heart pounds in my chest like a butterfly trapped in a bell jar, my pulse rate spiking so high, I’m scared I’m going to black out. The kiss seems to go on and on, and at the same time, it’s too short because it’s suddenly over.
I sway and become aware that he’s holding me up. His hand is on the nape of my neck, the other on my hip,
My world has tilted, my points of reference changed. My expectations for a kiss dramatically elevated. I know, I’ll never be satisfied by meeting my lips with anyone else’s.
My palate is coated with his taste, my mouth full of the remembrance of how his tongue swiped against mine. My heart feels like it’s in free fall, my emotions swooping over mountainsand dipping down into the valleys between them like an eagle riding the air currents.
I stare at him, lips still imprinted with the shape of his.
My ex clears his throat. "Uh… What… What’s the meaning of this? Lark… You… What are you doing? This man?—"
"Is going to take care of her the way you never would have been able to. You had your opportunity, buster, and you blew it." My boss jerks his chin in the direction of the doorway. "Beat it, will ya?"
"B-b-b-ut, I?—"
"Best be gone, before I call security. I’ll have you thrown in prison, and I’m sure you’ll be someone’s bitch before the week is out, so get the hell out before I make good on my promise."
"Look here, there’s no need to get personal," my ex blusters.
My boss, without taking his glowing golden gaze from mine, lifts one hand, swipes it out, and grabs the other man’s collar. With one quick move, he’s pushed him back with enough force that my ex stumbles. He also seems to get the message; he makes tracks toward the doorway. Where he pauses. "Anyway, it’s not like she can satisfy any man in bed. She’s frigid. So, you can keep?—"
My boss turns his head slowly in the direction of my ex, who freezes. Whatever he sees on my boss’ face is enough to have him swallowing audibly.
"Leave. Now." My boss’s voice is like a whip cracking out in his direction. It seems to catch him with the impact of a bodily blow, for he pushes the door open and lurches out. It swings shut behind him.
I am so mortified. The heat sears my cheeks. My stomach ties itself in knots. The ignominy of what he said… Aloud. Argh. And in the presence of a man who’s so virile, he seems to breathe out pheromones. I try to move back, but my boss’ hold on myneck tightens… Just for a second. Then he releases me, stuffs his hands into his pockets and stares into my face. "You okay?"
I shake my head.
"Why don’t you sit down?"
I’m too much in shock to compute how to place one foot in front of the other.
"I’m going to guide you to your chair, okay?"
I stare at him.
"Nod if you understand."
I nod.
He takes my hand, the touch like a thousand little fireflies fluttering against my skin and leads me to my chair. He pulls it out, turns it to face us and guides me to sit in it. When I’m seated, he picks up the glass of water on the desk and hands it to me.
"Drink it."
I do. I don’t stop until it’s empty. Then hand it back to him. That’s how much in shock I am. But the water does revive me enough to blink. "What was that all about?" I whisper.
"That…was me showing your ex, what he's missing out on."
"I… I guessed that." I swallow.
