Page 56 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

Turning to get her dessert was the only way he was able to take his eyes off her.

Retrieving their dessert plates from the covered and temperature-controlled containers his staff had left them in, he placed two delicate plates in front of her.

Their eyes locked again, and once again, there was a long moment in which they simply stared.

When she finally said, “Thank you,” her voice was rough.

He nodded, replying, “My pleasure,” before returning to his seat where his eyes found her again, dropping to the vee where the robe overlapped to cover her breasts.

As tightly as she had initially had it cinched, and it had been enough to bring his attention and appreciation to the way it emphasized the pinch of her waist, it had loosened over the course of their meal, now revealing a tantalizing hint of the swell of her breasts.

He was playing with fire and could not seem to stop.

“Mmm...” she moaned, and his eyes shot back to her face, his body abruptly and absurdly stiff in attention.

It was the ice cream she purred over, not him—her mind far from the prurient thoughts that raced through his head upon hearing the sound—and it didn’t matter.

Watching her enjoyment activated his own pleasure.

She savored each bite, balancing warm pie on her spoon with the creamy, smooth ice cream. And each time she closed her eyes, tilting her head faintly back.

She swallowed and he followed the movement of her throat, unable to look away.

Somewhere in the barrage of her indulgence, he managed to finish his own portion, barely tasting it for all that he knew it was delicious.

It did not compare to her.

When she had finished the last bite, she opened her eyes, the whole of her person radiating a satisfied glow. “You were right. That was absolutely delicious.”

For an instant, speech evaded him.

Then, clearing his throat again, he said, “I like to deliver on my promises.”

Her gaze darkened at his words, her pupils dilating, and she gave her head the tiniest of shakes.

Blushing, she pulled back, energetically as well as physically leaning back, and gave a forced sounding chuckle. “I guess that’s how you became Benjamin Silver, self-made billionaire.”

He didn’t want to talk about how he’d distracted himself from loneliness for years, drowning himself in work in order that he not have time or space to think about all the irreplaceable things he had lost on the boat that day.

He wanted to unwrap the gift that was her robe and appreciate the present inside.

But they weren’t supposed to.

It wasn’t allowed.

There could be consequences.

She wasn’t ready.

Her eyes were wide, and her breath was short, her breasts lifting with each inhale, but she held back.

And he would not push her. Something deep and primal within him knew he didn’t really need to.

She wanted to come play with him.

She just seemed to be trying harder to recall why that was a bad idea.

The self-made billionaire Benjamin Silver, as she had called him, knew that sometimes you had to wait to get what you wanted.

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