Page 56 of Grumpy Boss in Love

Elliot nodded. “I was checking my emails and corresponding with a few people. The Wi-Fi here is pretty good. Thought I’d make use of it.”

Opening the refrigerator, I assessed the items, mentally putting together a breakfast menu. “I’m going to miss work this morning. Surely, Caroline is going to blow her top. Then berate me about how disappointing it is that aninternhas the nerve to skip out on work.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure you aren’t penalized.”

Closing the refrigerator's door, I whipped around to gaze at Elliot with horror. “No, you will not.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Ruby, you’re here because of me. It’s only fair?—”

“Don’t you dare get involved.” I pointed a finger at him. “If you do, everyone will get confirmation that you… That we’re…”

“That we’re what? Sleeping together?” he drawled, giving me another of those heated once-overs. “Because we actually are now.”

Pursing my lips and embracing the heat filling my face, I glowered at him. We hadn’t done that muchsleeping.The tightly wounded Elliot had been unleashed, and my goodness, was he insatiable.

“Just stay out of it, Elliot,” I snapped.

He looked skyward. “I’ll simply let the necessary people know that I borrowedyou to help me withbusiness.”

“That doesn’t sound any less suspicious. What help could the CEO of Westwood Collective need from a lowly intern? I’ll call the office around seven and say that I have an emergency or something.”

He huffed. “Fine. You’d better request a couple of days.” He glanced outside. “Looks like we’ll be here a while.”

Stuck at Meadowbrook Guesthouse, sharing a room with my contract husband, who happened to be very skilled in bed. I could think of worse ways to weather a storm. Would we have a repeat of last night? Would the lovemaking extend past our forced proximity?

God, I hope so, I thought, giving his toned torso an appreciative swipe. He did hint at spending more time together outside of the office. I know I shouldn't get too caught up in Elliot. That was dangerous for my heart. I’d already fallen for the man. There was no need to getextraattached.

Blowing out a puff of air, I said, “Right. Now, on to breakfast.”

I spun around to focus on gathering ingredients. The cupboard was nicely stocked, so I didn’t have to wrack my brain or get too creative with a menu. I’d go simple with French toast. There were eggs and bacon in the fridge, which would make a great combination. I’d make coffee for Elliot and Alfred and hot chocolate for Eleanor and myself.

Elliot was quiet as I gathered everything I needed to start breakfast. He’d gone back to staring at his phone. Still, I was hyper-aware of his presence. This all felt too domestic. Us in the kitchen, him working, and me preparing breakfast as if we were just a normal married couple who had been together for ages.

With a quiet sigh, I searched the cupboards for a bowl to use. I spotted one on the top shelf of one of the compartments. Opening the door, I gazed up at the bowl with a frown. Maybe if I stretched my body enough, I could grab it with the tip of my fingers. I tipped on my toes and reached to no avail. Huffing, I started to climb onto the counter because standing on one of Eleanor’s beautiful vintage upholstered dining chairs seemed like a crime.

I didn’t climb very far before I felt big hands wrap around my waist. I gasped as I was lifted and placed back on my feet. Elliot’s front was pressed to my back as he reached for the bowl. He placed it on the counter and murmured, “You’re welcome.”

He was standing so close that I was engulfed by the heat radiating from him. As if my body remembered the things he’d done to it hours before, my vaginal muscles clenched. Slowly turning around, I immediately regretted it. He didn’t step back, just continued to crowd me with his larger frame.

I didn’t hate it, but his proximity set off a series of crazy bodily reactions. My next breath got stuck in my throat, my skin felt as if it caught fire, my heart tap danced, and my underwear felt suspiciously wet. This close, I could smell his unmistakable masculine scent. He smelled like he spent time in the woods among pine trees instead of in a posh office behind a shiny desk.

“Thanks,” I breathed.

“You really should avoid climbing onto counters, Half-pint. You’re frighteningly accident-prone.”

Although I was turned on, I managed to glare at him, and he chuckled. The sexy sound made my toes curl in my slippers.

Brushing past him, I chided, “Just because you’re accustomed to tall lithe models and socialites, doesn’t give you the right to take digs at my height.” I cracked a few eggs and violently started to whip them in the bowl.

“Models and socialites?” His voice rang with amusement.

“The women you typically date. I imagine those are the types Prince Westwood goes for.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you stop calling me that? And I don’t date, remember?”

“The women you usually sleep with then.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean they’re my type.”

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