Page 51 of Bossy Wicked Prince
I catch his reflection behind me. His eyes hooded slits, his face slack with hungry desire as he grinds himself against me and increases the speed of his fingers, the pressure of his thumb on my clit, andoh…my…god…
My pleasure spirals higher and higher, the lights of the city below blurring into a glittering abstract as I soar up into the night.
“Oh god, Nate!” I shriek as my orgasm blindsides me. My inner walls milk his fingers as I shatter into a thousand shimmering pieces.
He holds me as I drift back down, holding me up with the fingers still inside me, still moving, wringing every drop of pleasure from my core. His free hand is on my stomach, holding me against him as I shake and shatter in his arms.
“Kitten, I need to?—”
Whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by a knock. I blink—was that our door? Who could be?—
“Fuck,” I mutter as I come abruptly back to reality. “I ordered room service.”
The hotel staff knocks again. Nate removes his fingers and steps away from me. When I turn to look back at him, he’s frowning. His eyes are icy cold, and he’s not even looking at me. I can feel the regret coming off him in waves.
I can’t bear to look at him.
Oh god. What just happened?
What did I justlethappen?
Pulling my dress down, I hurry to the door to fetch our dinner. I tip the smiling attendant with cash from my purse—I’ll expense it back to UPS—I just need him to leave now. Right now.
Nate’s washing his hands in the kitchenette when I wheel the room service cart inside. He wipes his hands on a towel and shoots me a look I can’t read.
Obviously, he got away from himself. He didn’t want me to feel badly about the merger going south, but things went too far. My stomach feels like it’s full of ice.
Fix things. Fix them before he cuts you off for good.
“I’m so sorry, Nate. I’m not this person. I mean, I don’t do this sort of thing.”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
God, what am I doing? I should be nobody to a man like Nathaniel Walsh.
So then why do I feel soseen?
“I did.” Tears burn in my eyes, and I try to blink them away before he notices. “We have a professional relationship, and I crossed a line.”
Nate shifts like he’s going to walk toward me, but stops himself, rocking back into place. His broad shoulders are rigid. Some stupid, hopeful part of me thinks he might say something comforting.
What, like call you “beautiful” and “kitten” again?
He obviously doesn’t want me—not like that. Why would he? He could go out and find any woman he wants. What makes me special?
Holding onto my optimism becomes flat out impossible and whatever remained of it slips again in the mudslide of my shame. I clench my fist, digging my fingernails into my palm. I’ve already spiraled to the point where Nate had to talk me down twice today. If I don’t get my emotions in check, he’sreallygoing to decide I’m a liability as an assistant.
I force out a laugh. “I’m so embarrassed. I let things go too far, and I just really don’t want to jeopardize this job. So maybe we should just forget this ever happened.”
Please.
Before he can answer, there’s another knock on the door. This time, I really have no idea who it could be. Nate glances over at it, his expression only freezing further into place.
I wish I knew what he was thinking. I basically just told him he was home free, so he should be relieved, right?
“Don’t worry about your job.” His voice is glacially cold. “What happened tonight is my fault. We won’t talk about it again.”
He rubs his hands together like he’s dusting away the whole conversation. When he strolls to answer the door, he doesn’t so much as glance at me.
