Page 68 of Think Outside the Boss

“So was I. You’ve ruined all of that for me.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Neither can I,” I breathe.

He closes the distance between us and fits a large hand to my cheek. Tilts my head up, until he blocks out the city lights around us. “Be with me tonight,” he says. “Just the two of us in my hotel room. We can just be us. Frederica and Tristan, and not who we are at work.”

The raw note of need in his voice sparks the same chord in me, beckoning me to join in the symphony. And oh, how I want to. “Yes,” I murmur.

His hand slides down to grip mine. He leads the way, opening the glass door and bringing us both back into the warmth. Tristan pauses by the elevator. “You didn’t take the stairs?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to risk missing you.”

He kisses me with startling intensity then, bruising my lips with the force. I savor the taste of him, the strength of his body against mine. Every nerve ending feels electrocuted by his touch. “God, I want you,” he murmurs.

My hands dig into his shirt. “I want you too.”

“We’re taking the stairs this time.” His hand slips down to mine and then we’re walking, taking stairs devoid of people. We shouldn’t walk like this in public, but the idea of pulling my hand out of his feels akin to losing a limb.

We’re not going far. He pushes open the door to the twenty-fourth floor and we walk down rows of identical hotel doors.

Tristan unlocks the door at the end. “My suite,” he says.

A quick glance back at the corridor tells me what I already know. Nobody’s watching. There’s no one to see us, to see me, no one to spread rumors. I step inside, and he closes the door behind me.

17

Freddie

His hands smooth up my arms, strong and sure. “You walked out onto a rooftop terrace.”

I lean against him. “I did.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re worth a bit of fear.”

Tristan’s chuckle sends shivers over my skin. “What a compliment, Frederica.” His hands slip down, over the sleeves of his jacket, tracing my bare skin beneath.

I tip my head back against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” he murmurs, his hand sliding inside his suit jacket to rest on my stomach. His thumb brushes over the underside of my breast.

“Yes,” I say. “It has.”

Another hoarse chuckle, and then his lips brush over my exposed neck. “You’re right. And every night since I was at your apartment, I’ve thought of how you felt against me.”

My eyes slide closed. “Tristan…”

“Yes?”

“What are the rules?”

“The rules, sweetheart?” He smooths his suit jacket off my shoulders and it drops to the floor between us.

Unable to bear it any longer, I turn to him. “You told me about the rules at the Gilded Room. What about tonight?”

Tristan tips my head back, running a thumb over my lower lip. “No rules,” he murmurs. His kiss is powerful in its slowness. Deliberate and methodical. The need from the stairwell is still there, but it’s leashed now. Held in careful check but brimming beneath the surface.

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