Page 59 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

“Is that what you want?” He forced the question even as he already knew his answer.

He wanted her more than he could remember ever wanting anything in his life.

But while it could be their secret, it must be the choice of both of them.

There would be no claims of being caught up in the moment, swept away by doughnuts and rosé.

Waiting for her to decide, however, was another torture. Watching her mind work, her silhouette outlined by the fire behind her, his breath bated because of her for the third time that day.

When she nodded, his breath caught, the muscles of his abdomen clenching at the same time.

Picking up the wine that remained in the decanter, he rose, gesturing for her to precede him toward the fire and sitting area.

Her gaze followed the path of his hand, her eyes and mouth widening as they landed on the sofa.

The scene of the crime.

Wise as she was, he knew there was still a chance she might change her mind.

Color came to her cheeks, and she swallowed, the closing and reopening of her lips a sensual thing.

Would her mouth be confident wrapped around him?

With a bodily shudder, he imagined it would.

She looked from the place they had kissed the night before back to him.

Lips remaining slightly parted, breath escaping her, she nodded again.

She stood and again he wanted to groan aloud.

The robe had loosened enough to reveal a hint of the lace brassiere she wore. Her heels clicked across the floor as she walked to the couch.

At the edge of the rug she stopped, and he held his breath, watching her, wondering what she would do next.

His question was answered when she slowly stepped out of the heels, one foot at a time, each one a sensuous rise and fall, before stepping barefoot onto the sheepskin rug and letting out a sigh.

The muscles of his lower abdomen tightened at the sound.

“Everything that happens here, stays here?” she reiterated before taking another step, her question hushed, her voice low and throaty and incendiary—the words heavy with everything they left undescribed. “I don’t have to worry about my future with the foundation?”

Nodding though her back faced him, Benjamin did his own swallowing in response, his throat tight from the images her questions sent racing through his mind.

“Yes,” he rasped, frozen as he watched her.

At his answer, she did her own nodding.

Without looking back, she moved deliberately then, crossing the rug to sit on the edge of the couch, tucking the short robe beneath her as she did so.

He followed her slowly, trying to rebuild his control along the way.

He had wanted her to smile. He had wanted her to follow him, to take the bait of his invitation to risk returning to the sensual paradise that they had stumbled into the night before.

Now that she had, he was the one who felt like he flirted with danger—like he put something at risk through their encounter rather than her, something far more serious than a new job.

But there was not enough time to think about that in the walk between the table and sofa.

Setting down their glasses and the decanter on the marble-topped coffee table, he poured them each a glass before sitting at her side.

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