Page 12 of Grumpy Boss's Secret

“Oh great,” I muttered. “Now he’ll be able to hear me if I talk to myself.”

I let myself into my room and turned on the lights. I sighed with satisfaction, looking at how pretty it was: red and white coverlet on the bed, a beaded chandelier, a huge window looking out over the water….and a wall door leading into Ian's room.

“Oh great,” I said. I stared at it. “It’s locked, Jozi,” I said. “It’s definitely locked. It’s the same thing as a wall.”

I glanced at it again, my skin humming. With irritation, obviously.

"I'm going to take a bubble bath," I said, realizing I was already talking to myself. "Whatever," I mumbled and waltzed off.

An hour later, I was warm, relaxed and alert. I'd filled the bathtub with lavender soap bubbles and flipped through my copy of This Knotted History by Kirk Green by Kirk. My Kirk. It was one of his steamiest novels; you can guess what chapters I skipped.

Finally, I lifted a foot from the water and inspected my toes. "That's very pruney," I said. I yawned. "I guess it's time to –"

Someone screamed. It was more of a yell. It sounded like a man crying out. It was coming from next door. I clutched the edge of the bathtub, my heart pounding.

“That was sex, right?” I murmured. “Someone’s just having sex? Ian? He’s okay, right?”

I listened intently. I didn't hear anything more.

"Sure, it's just sex," I said, standing up and reaching for the nearest towel. Not sure how he would have gotten someone into his room – maybe he'd met someone downstairs, and she came up later.

"He's fine," I said. I hung the towel up and wrapped myself inside the complimentary plush robe. I picked up my book from the floor next to the bathtub and padded into the main area barefoot. I was going to keep reading in bed. My nerves were still skittish from hearing that scream. I was just crawling into bed when I heard it again. Louder this time. It was definitely a man, and it was definitely a scream of pain. Or fear.

“Shit,” I muttered, scrambling out of bed. My heart was pounding again. I looked at the door that led to Ian’s room, and on an impulse, I ran over to it and tried the handle. It wasn’t locked. I didn’t have time to be shocked. I pushed open the door. Ian was lying in bed, asleep, writhing around like he was in pain. And he was completely naked.

I stared at him and kept staring. At first, I stared because I was worried about him and wondered if I should still try to help him somehow. Was he having some kind of seizure? I was becoming sure it was just a nightmare and I should turn around and leave. Because, you know, damn.

He kept writing, turning his beautiful body back and forth across the mattress. His face was contorted. Beads of perspiration were breaking out on his forehead. He screamed again.

Without thinking, I rushed across the room to him. It was like I was watching myself do it. It was like I couldn’t stop.

I shook his shoulder to wake him. He opened his eyes wide, gasping for air as if he was coming out from underwater. He stared at me. My heart was pounding. I was suddenly very, very conscious that he was naked. I pulled my hand off his shoulder.

“You were screaming,” I said. “You screamed three different times.”

Ian was panting, his chest heaving. “It was just a nightmare,” he said, sitting up. He covered himself with the sheet, although he didn’t seem embarrassed that I’d just seen him naked. Honestly, the man had nothing to be embarrassed about. I kept standing there.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "I mean, when I have nightmares like that – well, I guess I've never had a nightmare like that. When I've had terrible nightmares, waking up doesn't necessarily make it go away."

Ian didn't look at me. He stared straight ahead, not answering. His eyes looked cloudy, like he was dehydrated or about to pass out. I sat down next to him on the bed. He turned towards me, startled.

“Are you okay?” I asked again.

Ian swallowed and looked into my eyes. Then, he reached for a handout and kissed me. Heat shot through me. His hand was warm against my face, and his lips were pressed against mine as if trying to drink comfort out of me. The nearness of his naked body was overwhelming. I was hyper-aware that just under my bathrobe, I was naked too.

I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his muscles shift under my embrace. He kissed me harder, his arms wrapping around my torso as well. And then, suddenly, reality crashed over me like a closet full of cymbals. I froze. I was kissing my boss. My boss, who I absolutely hated. Oh well.

Ian, however, had sensed me freeze. He pulled away from me, his eyes searching mine. Here, at this moment, he didn't seem like a hard-edged, emotionless asshole. He seemed human. Soft, genuine, and vulnerable. His being naked probably had something to do with it.

“Do you not want to do this?”

This? Wow. Wow. I hadn't even finished processing the kiss yet. The prospect of "this" happening sent my arousal into overdrive. Yes. Absolutely. It wasn't just that he was so hot. Something about our situation – how he was suddenly acting differently, more vulnerable, was intoxicating. I wanted to make this moment last longer. I tried to figure out why it was happening. I wanted to explore him.

“I do,” I said, kissing him again.

We fell sideways onto the mattress. He rolled me over until he was lying on top of me. The weight of him felt like an embrace from his entire body. He pressed against me, undulating slightly as he kissed my mouth hungrily.

I closed my eyes, feeling him lift himself and reach for the tie of my bathrobe. He was moving slowly as if he was aware that the normal roadblocks of sex – clothes–were gone, and he didn't want to rush this.

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