Page 22 of The Powerful Boss She Craves

Ella smiled, happy to see that his ghosts were gone. ‘I’m happy to help you come to a definite answer.’

He grinned and kissed her briefly before rolling off the bed. He walked into the bathroom and, when he returned, he bent down to pick up his jeans and swiftly pulled them on. Ella sat up abruptly. ‘Are you leaving?’ she demanded, confused.

Micah kissed her nose. ‘We need more condoms, sweetheart. Do you have any?’

Condoms? No! She hadn’t thought she’d be having sex any time soon, so it wasn’t something she’d stocked up on. ‘Uh...no.’

‘Didn’t think so. I’ll be right back.’ Micah straightened and pointed a finger at her. ‘Your only job is to remove those panties.’

It was only then that Ella remembered that she had them on.

Ella woke up and wasn’t surprised to find herself alone in her big double bed. She rolled over and peered off the end of the bed but, as she expected, Micah’s clothes were gone too.

Ella stretched, arched her back and pointed her toes before slumping back into the mattress. The bedside clock said it was twenty past six and, through the gap in her closed curtains—though she didn’t remember pulling them closed last night—she saw that it was raining steadily. What she most wanted to do was to roll over and go back to sleep but, having failed to find a suitable venue in Clarens—they’d heard that venue three was even smaller than the others—they were heading back to Johannesburg this morning. She assumed she would be driving, and she’d need a vat of coffee and a few energy drinks if that was the case.

Still naked, Ella sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees, staring at the water colour of the mountains on the wall across the room. She’d made love to Micah Le Roux last night and it had been...

Well, fabulous. Divine, wonderful, amazing.

They’d made love twice, and done some hot exploring in the shower afterwards, and she’d loved every minute with him. He hadn’t banished the memories of Pillay’s hot breath and sweaty hands, of him pinning her against the wall and trying to force his hand between her legs, but they weren’t as oppressive any more. They’d somewhat faded.

From now on, when she thought of being intimate with a man, she’d remember Micah’s sexy mouth and broad hands sliding across her skin, the way he’d turned her blood to hot syrup and how he’d raised fireworks on her skin. She wasn’t one to rush into relationships—she was terrified of rejection and broken expectations—but she’d no longer be driven by fear. She was, thanks to Micah, in a different place now.

But Ella also suspected that any man she dated in the future, every future lover, would always be compared to Micah. She genuinely didn’t believe last night could be improved on. It was the perfect first night with a new lover, both hot and sweet, tender and tempestuous.

But Micah didn’t want a relationship and neither did she. It was a one-night stand, something that wouldn’t be repeated. She now knew she could date again, maybe even sleep with a man again, and that was a relief.

But Ella still doubted she could have a relationship again. Because some scars didn’t heal as quickly as others. Her father had mentally and emotionally disappeared on her after her mum had died. He had, in a sense, chosen to emotionally abandon her. Yes, he’d provided for her, and paid her school and university fees, but as she’d got older the gap between them had widened.

She’d always thought that, at some point, they’d find their way back to each other, but after years of trying she now knew they never would because it took two to reconnect. Being disappointed by your dad was a special type of hell and one that caused deep scars that would take a lifetime to heal. If they ever did.

And, if she couldn’t trust her father—the one man who was supposed to love her, listen to her, to be there for her, to believe in her, to support and protect her—how could she trust any other man? Her father had taken away her trust in men, Pillay her trust in herself.

But maybe, thanks to Micah, she was regaining some of her self-confidence. There was something incredibly empowering about having a good, sexy-as-sin man interested in her. He wasn’t the charming, charismatic man the world thought he was... No, that wasn’t right, of course he was charming and very charismatic. But he wasn’tonlythatman. He was deeper and more complicated than people suspected.

Micah had, she was sure, lived a thousand lives and not all of them were good. Things had happened to him that had caused deep, wide wounds, injuries that still made him ache and seethe. He was both hurt and angry, wounded and wishful.

But she couldn’t get involved, couldn’t let him get to her. She already cared far too much about what Micah thought about her. If she spent more time with him—assuming that he wanted a repeat of last night—she’d be in trouble, the ‘losing her heart’ kind of trouble. Even if she hadn’t been planning to emigrate, there’d have been no hope of a relationship developing between Micah Le Roux and her. He didn’t do relationships. According to social media and the press, he’d never had a girlfriend who’d lasted more than a few months, and she couldn’t risk having someone she cared for disappoint her again. She was a normal working girl; he was a fast-moving billionaire businessman. Their lives had temporarily intersected but life would, as it inevitably did, pull them apart.

She had to be sensible, smart and protect her heart. She was the only one who could do that. Because, if she didn’t look after herself, no one else would.

Knowing his concentration was shot, and that he wouldn’t get much work done if he tried, Micah elected to drive them back to Johannesburg. Never before had a woman managed to pull his focus off work but Ella was one of a kind.

She was a series of firsts, he decided as he pulled over to pass a fuel tanker. The first employee he’d got naked with, the first woman he’d spent most of the night with—he’d only left her room when the red numbers on her bedside clock had flipped to six a.m.—and the first he’d wanted to keep in bed for the rest of the day.

The Bentayga’s fancy computer flipped the windscreen wipers onto fast and Micah raised his eyebrows as the sound of thunder drowned out his favourite radio station. Rain fell in heavy sheets and, because the visibility was terrible, he slowed down. At this rate, it was going to take them for ever to get home.

He glanced to his left and saw that Ella was busy on her phone, looking at pictures of a grey-blue building. Judging by her cool but friendly attitude this morning, no one would’ve guessed they’d spent the night together or that he’d, in turn, made her scream and sigh. When she’d appeared in the dining room for breakfast, she’d acted as if nothing had happened and he was both grateful and irritated. Grateful because he didn’t want her to start acting like his girlfriend, and irritated because she was behaving as if she hadn’t rocked his world.

Micah ran a hand over his face, knowing that he sounded like an insecure kid. They’d had sex, great sex, and if she wasn’t going to make a big deal of it, neither was he. He was older, and better, than that.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, needing for some stupid reason to hear the sound of her melodious voice.

She looked up quickly before looking back down at her phone. ‘I’m still trying to find a Johannesburg-based option for your sister’s wedding.’ She obviously caught something on his face because her lips twisted. ‘I know you think it’s a fool’s errand, but I’m convinced there’s something out there that would be a brilliant venue.’

‘I can’t stop you from looking but I don’t think you’re going to find anything. Thadie’s wedding planner is—’

‘The best in the business and she has incredible contacts...blah, blah, blah,’ Ella muttered, eyes on her phone. ‘I’m still wrapping my head around her losing the booking at The Gables.’

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