Page 37 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

Miri lay in the utter darkness of the room with her eyes wide open, staring up at a ceiling she couldn’t see.

She and Benjamin Silver had kissed.

No. That wasn’t right.

They hadn’t kissed.

They had made out like a couple in the honeymoon phase on his couch in front of a roaring fire.

And then she had slept at his house—not with him, obviously, but at his house, and woken up still under his roof.

If she could have taken a walk of shame out of his house to hail a cab home, she would have sneaked out the window without saying goodbye and done just that.

As it was, there was no way out but through him.

And that meant she was trapped forever because there was no way she would ever be able to face him again.

How would she be able to look him in the eye when she had moaned into his mouth the night before?

They had to work together.

Bringing her hands to cover her face in the dark, she muffled a groan.

How could I have made such a stupid mistake?

He was her direct supervisor, the long-standing leader of an organization still recovering from a fraternization scandal.

And she had fraternized with him!

There was no way he could continue to see her as a good fit for her position. He couldn’t help but doubt her integrity.

Shecouldn’t help but doubt her integrity—no matter that nothing like this had ever happened before in her life.

Her days of getting hot and heavy on couches were as far behind her as her days of being someone’s fiancée.

As a college dater, she’d kept things to the realm of flirting in bars and the occasional good-night kiss at the door.

No man that she had encountered seemed willing to accept the pace she set on intimacy—emotional or physical—so her relationships had a tendency to fizzle out before they got past that point.

She refused to compromise.

She respected herself.

She had set boundaries around trust and a boundary was only as powerful as it was enforced.

Except for, apparently, when she was willing to throw it all out the window.

She had revealed so much and taken things so far with Benjamin the night before that there was no way he could think of her as anything but attention-starved and desperate.

And unless the storm had passed, she was literally stuck with him—no getting out without seeing the judgment in his frosty stare.

Maybe the storm passed overnight?

He was a busy man, busy enough that he’d had only two hours to spare for her and the gala.

He had already gone far over that allotted time, first during their meeting and later, spending hours with her drinking wine and talking.

If the storm had passed overnight, then wasn’t it entirely possible that he would have to get back to work? That he would have no more time to spare for her and could have his assistant arrange her return to Los Angeles?

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