Page 33 of Boss of Me
“Very well, then.” Giving us one last speculative look, the butler says goodnight and leaves.
Gunner and I stare at each other for a long time without speaking.
I’m just about to make my escape when he brushes a stray wisp of hair away from my face, his fingertips caressing my cheek. The gossamer touch makes fire erupt across my skin.
His eyes lower to the goose bumps scattered across my neck and collarbone. The longer he stares, the tighter and heavier my breasts grow, aching for his touch.
When he trails his finger down to my heart, it thumps so hard I gasp.
His gaze darkens before he slides his hand into my hair and cups the back of my head, tilting it so my mouth is just inches from his.
I stare into his eyes, our breaths mingling. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. I want to taste him. I want to feel his mouth between my thighs and all over my body. I want him to lift me onto the counter and fuck me senseless. But I know once we cross that line, there’ll be no turning back.
He leans in closer, his breath feathering over my lips.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
He pauses, his pupils dilating. I can see the struggle in his eyes, the internal battle to regain his self-control. His fingers tighten in my hair almost to the point of pain, and my core clenches with need.
Finally he releases me and steps back as if he doesn’t trust himself not to touch me again.
We stare at each other for several charged moments, the only sound the barely audible hum of the refrigerator.
“Let’s have some dessert,” he finally murmurs.
I swallow hard and shake my head. “Maybe later.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Suit yourself.” He walks over to the massive center island where his chef set out two dessert plates and spoons. With a flourish, he lifts the cover from one plate to reveal a spongy mound of cake with toffee sauce artfully drizzled over the top.
“Mmm.” He picks up the plate, turning it this way and that. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” The scent of warm toffee and molasses has me drooling.
“You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted Gustav’s sticky toffee pudding.” Gunner makes a show of sliding his spoon through the cake and into his mouth, his eyes closing with a groan that curls my toes. “God, that’s delicious.”
I gulp hard, my thighs clenching.
He shoots me a taunting smile. “Are you sure you don’t want any?”
My mouth is watering like crazy. Am I greedy for wanting the dessertandthe yummy man holding it?
“I’m good,” I croak. “Really.”
Gunner chuckles softly. “You’re a terrible liar, Marlowe. We both know you want some. Why deny yourself the pleasure?”
I swallow thickly and shake my head.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” He drizzles more toffee sauce over the cake and eats another spoonful. “Mmm.Sodamn?—”
I scurry over and snatch the plate out of his hand like a hungry bandit.
He throws back his head with a shout of laughter.
Grinning, I scoop up a deliciously gooey mouthful of cake and lick the spoon.Hisspoon. The one that was in his mouth. On his tongue.
