Page 32 of The Boss's Forbidden Assistant

She loved hearing him say her name, even in a sentence that was so full of doubt and concern.

‘You won’t and you’re not. You never could be.’ She knew that deep in her heart.

‘I haven’t slept with a woman in a long time. Years.’ The revelation caught her off-guard. She knew he’d been celibate since his wife had passed, but before that? He lifted a hand to her cheek, running his thumb over the soft flesh there. ‘I don’t want you to read more into this than is there. I don’t want to make you promises. I don’t want you to think—’

‘I don’t think anything,’ she said quietly.

‘Having sex with you is more than I thought I’d let happen. It can’t go beyond this.’

She ignored the strange sensation in the middle of her chest, letting his words permeate her soul. He was being honest—something Peter had never had the courage to do. Salvador wasn’t pretending this was a prelude to any great future. It was just sex.

‘I don’t—I can’t make sense of what’s happening between us,’ she said after a beat, being completely honest. ‘But I know I’ll always regret it if I walk away before letting this play out. Does that make sense?’

He groaned. ‘I hate that I can’t control this.’ Their eyes met and held. ‘But, hell, I don’t want to control it either. Does that make sense?’

All the sense in the world. She blinked up at him, nodding once, and then he kissed her, slowly, tentatively. It was as if he were signing on the dotted line, a deal with the devil, making a pact that he knew he’d regret later but couldn’t resist in this moment. And then, as she kissed him back, any pretence of being gentle was thrown by the wayside, the kiss becoming urgent, desperate, so animalistic and wild, his big, strong body practically swallowing hers as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. His fast-beating heart hammered against hers, which beat with the same frantic answering rhythm, pounding against her ribs frantically and with force.

His hands found the hem of her dress, lifting it fast as though he couldn’t wait to remove it, as though he needed to see her naked more than he’d ever needed anything. She sucked in a breath, but it was hard because he was kissing her, and she didn’t want to break that contact. They were a tangle of tongues and lips, arms, hands and legs, moving with the same purpose, desperate to connect flesh to flesh, to feel and explore.

The dam had burst, the power of a thousand rivers exploding into the room as they stumbled back to the bed, clothes dropping, hands searching, touching, needing, wanting, kissing. His body was over hers, naked except for his boxer shorts, and her hands roamed his back, her nails dragging over his bronzed skin, her lips finding his collar bone, kissing him, tasting him, drowning in a wave of desire, desperate to be fulfilled.

His arousal was so hard against her, reminding her of his hunger, of his need, of the fact he hadn’t been with a woman in years. Suddenly, the rush of knowing that she’d be his first filled her with something other than desire and adrenaline, with something more, despite the limitations of what they were doing. And yet, how could she not read a little something into this? It wasn’t that either of them wanted a relationship, but that didn’t make this meaningless.

Everything had meaning and the fact they’d been thrown together and had chosen one another was shaping parts of her she’d forgotten existed.

She’d only ever been with Peter, and the sex had been okay. Not earth-shattering, not amazing, but pleasant enough most of the time. But this was different. From the first moment she’d met Salvador, there’d been a chemistry there that had threatened to burn Harper alive.

His hand guided her legs apart and she jumped, so unused to being touched there she didn’t know how to respond except to cry out. His eyes flew to hers, checking on her, making sure she was okay, and then he kissed her once more, making it impossible to think of anything but this connection, the rightness of what they shared.

‘Salvador.’ She bit down on her lip, unsure what she wanted to say, just knowing this was more perfect than she could express. ‘I need—’

‘I know.’ His hand moved between her legs, touching her there, feeling her moist core, and she bucked against his hand, so drenched with desire she was already at a precipice. Pulling up onto his elbow, he watched her, his hand moving slowly at first, enquiring, as his eyes probed her face—reading her, watching what made her moan, what drove her wild, getting to know her until, within minutes, he was playing her body so expertly it was as though he’d been practising for this his whole life.

She couldn’t control herself. Pleasure exploded through her, her release swift and complete. She wrapped her legs around him and pushed up, needing to kiss him to somehow process the pleasure she was feeling, to wean herself off the high, to cope with the waves that were ravaging her body and shocking her with their intensity.

If she stopped and thought about it, the last few days had been like a wild kind of foreplay. She’d wanted him from almost the first moment they’d met, and bit by bit they’d danced around the subject, probing, promising, even while insisting it wasn’t what either of them wanted. And now there was this, the most catastrophic explosion of desire she’d ever known—and it was only just beginning.

Her hands ran down his torso, feeling the ridges of his abdomen, the muscled form, until she brushed the thatch of hair at the base of his arousal and he stilled. She felt his body tremble and, emboldened, moved her hands to clasp his length, squeezing him gently so she heard that sound she’d come to love: the sharp hiss of breath that told her he was at a tipping point.

‘Harper.’ Her name was a warning, one she didn’t heed.

His tip had a hint of pearly liquid already and power soared through her, the knowledge that she’d driven him to this point, that he wanted her so badly.

‘Stop.’ He groaned, even as he moved within her grip, encouraging her to keep going. ‘I’m going to come if you keep touching me like that.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’ She purred.

‘I want to feel you.’

Her heart stammered. ‘I want that too.’

He moved then, pulling out of her grip, moving closer and then freezing, pulling up to stare into her eyes, his skin pale beneath his swarthy complexion.

‘What?’ Her heart sank.Please, please, don’t put an end to this, she silently pleaded.

‘I don’t have any condoms.’

The words didn’t quite make sense to Harper at first; she was in such a fog of sexual pleasure and euphoria.

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