Page 18 of Bigfoot Boss
“You aren’t doing anything wrong, Ms. Thorn. I’m the problem here.”
“Really? Because if you just tell me what to do, I can do it. I need this job.” Her hands fidget in front of her skirt before she fists them tight, and then puts them straight at her sides as she faces me. “I’ll do anything to keep working here, sir.”
“It’s the way you smell,” I blurt out, and my chest already feels lighter. “I need the door open because I have a hard time thinking when your scent is everywhere.”
“It’s that bad?” she asks. I can’t stop my gaze from roving over her body, the wide thighs begging to be tugged apart, the breasts straining at her blouse. I know what lurks under the fabric, I’ve glimpsed the dark nipples that wait to be revealed, sucked, and worshiped.
“It’s the opposite of bad. It makes me think inappropriate things.” My hormones swirling through my brain, muddling my logic. I need her so badly.
“What kinds of things?”
I shake my head. “Things that make me a monster, Ms. Thorn.”
“What kind of monster?”
“Let’s hope you never find out.”
“I might be willing to—” she takes a deep breath, “—to find out. If you leave the door closed?”
The room is filled with her scent. She’s mine, she is meant to be mine.
“I want you, Ms. Thorn. I want to know what you feel like wrapped around me. What every inch of you tastes like. What you look like spread across my desk—” The words spill out in a rush until my voice catches in my throat. It’s wrong, but I can’t contain myself any longer.
“This desk?” She rests her ass on the edge of the wooden surface. Her fingers curl around the lip, and she boosts herself up so that her toes barely graze the ground. Her skirt inches up her legs, showing more of that perfect skin.
I’m across the room before I know what I am doing. All I can think about is sliding my hand in between her legs, memorizing the dimples in her thighs, unbuttoning her blouse, taking her breast in my mouth, and every other phenomenal possibility once she’s mine. I pause in front of her, memorizing the sight of her. Trying to imprint this moment before I’ve had the pleasure of really touching her. She wants me. It’s there, written across her beautiful face, telegraphed in her body language, declared loudly in the rich scent of desire that settles between her legs. She leans back on my desk, she chest jutting temptingly forward.
I reach for her chin. Cupping her jaw in my thumb and forefinger. “Ms. Thorn?—”
“I think Bay under these circumstances.” A blush touches her cheeks. She leans ever so slightly into my touch.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” I say so quietly I can barely hear it above the thunder of my heartbeat.
“Isn’t that part of the fun, though?” She slips a finger under the lapel of my jacket to tug me closer. The light touch feels shockingly erotic.
“I’m a by-the-book guy—I do things the right way—I don’t break the rules. I?—”
“Is any of that going to stop you from taking what you want right now?” She cuts me off.
I suck in a breath before I lean down and brush my lips across hers, gentle and easy, with every ounce of restraint that I have left, trying not to frighten her. She gives a small gasp, almost like she’s surprised by it. I keep going, savoring small presses of our lips against each other, indulging myself in the way she moves in response to me, enjoying the contest between our mouths. When I retreat, she presses forward, trying to pull more from me, but I stay at her mouth, letting the smell of her desire build between her legs as I seek out the taste of her. She parts her lips and lets me explore her deeper. Her flavor is as good as her smell—honey, moss, and spice. As I brush my tongue across hers, her hand flutters up, her nails digging into the back of my neck, pulling me in closer, tighter, hungrier.
Her other hand splays across the desk for support, knocking the folders from the surface as her legs fall further open, welcoming me. She presses her soft body up and into mine, those perfect breasts begging to be touched. I let a hand drift down, my fingers grazing across her tempting curves and valleys. She gives a soft sigh into my mouth, which urges me further. I dig my fingers into the folds of her hips as I move my lips down her neck to kiss the soft area above her clavicle.
Her hand fists into my shirt as her head tilts back to give me better access.
“This is all I have to do?” she asks so quietly I almost don’t hear her.
“All you have to do?” I ask her neck, the lust in my brain barely makes room for thought.
“We do this, and I get to keep my job?” she asks.
I jerk back so quickly that Bay has to grab my arms to keep from losing her balance.
“No. No. I—” I shake my head, confused. “We do this, and then I get to keep you. As my wife.”
11
HALF A MILLION IS A LOT OF CAT FOOD
