Page 37 of Craving Her Christmas Boss

She looked into his face, saw past the travel stains and the sexy unshaved jaw to the tired eyes—thevulnerableeyes. She’d never seen any hint of uncertainty in him before, and she nearly missed now.

Emotion clogged her throat. What an idiot she’d been. This guy was nothing like George. This guy was begging her to believe. Was there really that much hope hidden in there?

Suddenly she knew she had to repeat it, that most scary of things, in front of the store full of people. From somewhere she had to find courage. She gripped the scissors even harder. ‘Actually, I didn’t get to finish saying what I meant.’

‘And what was that?’

No holding back. There was nothing more to lose. ‘I love you.’

His lashes dropped, hiding his reaction from her. He cleared his throat. ‘I have a present I’d like wrapped.’

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yes. Can you wrap this, please?’

Imogen blinked. Felt her whole body toasting under the grill of humiliation. She wanted to evaporate, eviscerate—whatever, she wanted out of there. But she couldn’t with all the world watching.

‘It already is wrapped.’

‘They didn’t do such a good job. Can you do it again?’

With five bows? How humiliating. She ripped off the paper with rough jerks.

‘It was done by one of those weird people put the ribbon on the inside,’ he said.

Sure enough, a deep red ribbon was underneath. She started to unwind it, quickly revealing a green and gold packet chocolate covered pigment creams. She held the packet in one hand and stared at the ribbon on the other. Something was hanging on it.

‘See—isn’t it much more fun?’

She’d been too busy staring down to see that it moved around the table. Now he was right behind her. She couldn’t turn to look at him—couldn’t take her eyes off—

‘What?’ Now it was her voice that was little more than a croak.

‘Opening presents on Christmas Eve,’ he said in her ear. He took the ribbon from her shaking fingers, placed it over her head so it hung around her neck—and the gleaming square cut diamond ring was threaded on rested between her breasts.

‘We need to talk some more before you decide which finger to put that on.’

‘Ryan—’

His hands were firm on her waist as he turned her around. ‘But before we do that, we need to do this.’

He crushed her so close that it was a struggle to breathe, let alone raise her arms and cling. But somehow, eventually, despite kissing him back with the ferocity of a famished lioness, she managed. He smelt so good, tasted so good, felt so good. She was so desperate to touch him that she shook with the fever of it. Next thing she knew he scooped her up and was striding somewhere—she didn’t care where, because all that mattered was the way he was loving her with his lips.

Vaguely she figured that the shrieking soprano’s song must’ve been a live recording, because she could hear a lot of applause now. And then the noise died away and they were in the lift. Without breaking the searing kiss he managed to swipe his security card and pressed the button. Moments later his office door closed behind them, and he pinned her against the wall while he snipped the lock.

‘I can’t wait for the hotel tonight,’ he growled. ‘It has to be the desk.’

‘I’ve had a desk fantasy for weeks,’ she admitted breathlessly.

The sudden blaze in his eyes was so wicked she should have swooned if she’d had to be supporting her own weight. Instead she just leaned back as he placed on the desk, and pulled his shirt to make him follow.

He didn’t disappoint, raining kisses on her face and neck.

‘I’ve missed you. Missed this. Longed for this.’

That rawness in his voice tugged deep in her heart.

‘Ryan—’

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