“Yes, Miss Snow, I am.”

“Good.”

“And I’ll enjoy it even more once the drama is put behind us,” he said.

That got me thinking. “You seem so confident that this will all shake out in your favor.” And in mine.

He ran his finger from that hollow at the base of my neck and trailed it down between my breasts. “That’s because I am.”

“What if you’re wrong?” I asked.

“I’m never wrong. And the moment she publishes that book, I’ll prove her wrong.”

I didn’t like this one bit. “How?”

He looked away.

“Uhhh…what was that?” I said, sitting up.

“What?”

“You looked away. What are you planning?”

I looked down, and the worst possible thoughts trickled through my head. “Are you planning to use me?”

“What? Fuck no. Lily, I would never…” He sat up, gripped my shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I’m an asshole, but not a heartless one. I would never hurt you like that.”

I released a mental sigh. Okay, it had been a completely ridiculous thought. Shame on me for even thinking it. “Then tell me.”

He didn’t want to. I could see it in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can at the moment; I’m too busy focusing on not spanking the hell out of you for that last comment.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t be a barbarian.”

“I thought you liked the alpha male in me,” he countered.

I glared.

“Fine. No spanking,” he conceded. “But do you honestly believe I built a multibillion-dollar company by winging it? Or not knowing how to manage the media?”

Well, when he put it like that. “No. I guess not.”

“Then trust that I’ve got it covered. I’ve got a team of people ready to deal with this. Not only will that book be laughed at, but it will be used to sell millions of dollars of product.”

I didn’t like the feel of this. He was going to lie. Of course, he’d been backed into a corner and the truth was something very personal. Nancy Little intended to violate his privacy for revenge. An unjustified revenge. But how could this possibly end well? I didn’t see it.

“I know that look,” he said. “You’re judging me and about to say something negative.”

How did he know? “I just don’t want you—us—to get hurt.” Because at the end of the day, he was a good person. And I certainly didn’t deserve this either.

“I will protect you. Your career will be fine. Everything will work out. Now, can I take you to collect some clothes?”

“Why? You’re cured now. Intensive therapy is over.”

“Because I want you. Here. In my bed.”

I liked the sound of that. “Fine. Twist my arm. But can we go for a run when we get back?”

“Are you going to jog topless again?” he asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“Do you have any idea how badly that image tortured me? I couldn’t stop seeing your bouncing breasts in my head for weeks.”

I gave him a sly look. The idea of him pining away for me was too much. “I’ll run topless if you do.”

He laughed. “Deal.”

~~~

Monday morning at the office was sexual torture. No frigging way would we be maintaining a professional relationship at work, which meant something had to give.

I should’ve known.

For starters, on Sunday, we had gone back to my place for some clothes, fucked in my room, and then returned to his house to go at it again until we were spent, but not sated. When we left his house exhausted in the morning, and he’d insisted on driving in together in his new black Porsche Panamera, I was unable to resist his uncharacteristic, dopy grin.

“I can drive myself. I promise,” I’d said.

“You slept one hour. Let me drive,” he’d argued.

“You, too.”

“Yes, however, I run a global company. I’m used to it.” He gave me his first puppy-dog look.

Yes, I melted.

“Fine. You drive,” I said. My first mistake.

Then I told him to drop me off two blocks from the building before parking in the garage next door. He refused, kissed me at a stoplight until I couldn’t think straight, and proceeded to do what the hell he pleased: parking where he always parked.

Okay. No big deal. No one from the office has seen us together. But it felt like he wanted us to be seen.

Or didn’t give a rat’s ass.

Walking to our building, I frowned at the beautiful man, awestruck by his extreme happiness, and knowing how long he’d waited for this moment—to finally feel free. Which made me happy, too. He could basically ask anything of me, and I would agree.

On the elevator ride up to our offices, we were alone, and he mauled me for twenty blissful seconds—tongue, hands, grinding action—the works—until we got to my floor.

“For lunch, I’m going to fuck you in my office so hard,” he’d whispered, “you’ll forget your name.”

I staggered out of the elevator with red lips, my hair half fallen from the bun I’d carefully put into place, and my white fitted blouse half untucked.

Yes, I got plenty of looks from my coworkers, most assuming I’d just staggered in from a night of partying and getting laid. They were only half right.

Then came the monthly staff meeting. When I was supposed to be paying attention, all I could do was stare at my boss and think about the multitude of ways he’d licked me, sucked me, and penetrated me over the past two days. I’d counted fourteen orgasms. Fourteen. And I had the sore body to show for it. I’d literally zoned out through a thirty-minute marketing presentation on their new tropical-color trends because I was too busy fantasizing about Max—who, by the way, made it no secret that he did not approve of my blatant ogling and drooling.

Okay, so now he wanted to draw a line?

But if looks could talk, his said “I’m not a piece of meat. Stop staring at me like that.” To which I replied, “Yeah, you are. And no, I won’t.”

When it was my and Mike’s turn to present our recommendation for the new tween line of makeup, Max’s sharp hazel eyes stuck to my face, creating even more of a distraction. To the world, he was merely paying attention. To me, he was showing me how much he really wanted me.

In summary, we both failed the “keeping work and personal life” separate. And for anyone who thought that I’d been an ass to even attempt such a feat, I’ll simply say…

Yep!

Sure, there were plenty of examples of spouses or couples being coworkers, but this situation was wholly different, excluding the fact that he was my boss and ran the company. The truth was, we’d both been starving for this—whatever “this” was—and now that we had it, it felt like a drug.

After the monthly meeting, I left as quickly as I could, feeling an overwhelming panic wash over me. Nothing about this situation felt right, but everything about it felt good. I couldn’t control myself.

“Lily?” There was a light knock on the doorjamb of my open office door.

Mike’s blue, blue eyes and charming smile glowed in my direction.

“Mike, hi. How was your weekend?”

“Great.” He approached with all the confidence in the world and partially sat on my desk. “Nursed a nasty hangover on Saturday and got in a few rounds of golf on Sunday. What about you?”

“Same.” Why had I said that?

“You didn’t seem drunk.”

“After. I got drunk when I got home.” No, that didn’t sound trashy at all. It was also a complete lie. What’s the matter with me?

“Oh. And how was golf? I didn’t know you played.”

“Did I say golf? I meant shopping. Same thing.” I’m an idiot. Need sleep.

He raised his brows. “I suppose both involve a lot of walking.”

“Exactly.”

“So,” he bobbed his head, “I was wondering if you were free tonight? I know Monday isn’t a typical dinner-date night, but—”

“Mike,” said a serious voice from just outside the doorway, “would you mind giving Miss Snow and me a moment?”

Mike looked at Max in his black power suit with his hazel eyes throwing off some serious angry tones.