My boss.
Who has a girlfriend.
And we’re on a business trip.
Still panting, aftershocks shimmering through me, I push at him. “I can’t,” I say, my voice breaking, feeling as though I’m about to burst into tears. “I can’t do this. You’re my… we shouldn’t be…”
I manage to extricate myself from his embrace, evading his reaching hands. It’s almost dark now, but there’s enough light for me to see as I run back along the path to the hotel, my hands to my mouth, tears starting to flow.
What the hell am I doing?
I race up the stairs to my apartment, not looking back. I think I hear him call my name but can’t bear to face him. I lock the door behind me, pulling the chain across, then switch on the light.
Then I collapse face-down on the sofa and burst into tears. Realisation washes over me, stark and horrific. I can’t lie to myself anymore.
Myles is my boss. I’m his employee.
And I’m falling for him.
I can’t keep working for him.
Somehow, I need to quit my job without leaving him in the lurch. Without seeming like the biggest idiot in the world.
Myles
What the hell just happened?
I had Zara right where I wanted her, in my arms. I know, I was supposed to be playing a long game. But I also know she was enjoying herself, and I was too. I wanted to make her moan like that, make her whisper my name in my ear, make her wet, make her come, over and over again. But more than that, I know I want to be with her.
I’ve dreamed about this moment for months, of how it would be to spend time with her, to see her glorious hair loose around her shoulders, to make her laugh, to treat her how she deserves to be treated. To fuck her until neither of us can stand. But none of my dreams have lived up to the reality of actually spending time with her, of feeling her against me, her heat and wetness around my fingers. I groan.
She’s right, of course she is. We shouldn’t be doing this.
I’m a goddamn idiot.
It takes me a moment to stand up. And by the time I do, she’s gone. I run along the path towards the hotel and glimpse her slender figure at the foot of the stairs as I enter the pool area.
“Zara!” I call out.
But it’s too late. I hear the slap of her feet on the stairs, then the rattle of her door, the slam of it closing.
I stand there for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. I turn, slowly, and realise I have an audience. A few people are in the seating area, sprawled across the bright cushions, several with beers in hand. When I turn, one of them raises his bottle. “Better luck next time, mate,” he says, in an Australian drawl. The group laughs. My gaze narrows, and I consider burying my fist in his grinning face.
“Yeah,” I say. “Next time.”
I kick off my shoes. Then I walk towards the pool and dive in, fully clothed. I gasp at the shock of cold water, letting it take most of my arousal from me. But when I surface, pushing my hair back, I can see the light is on in Zara’s apartment, gleams of gold coming around the shutters.
I try not to imagine her in there, what she might be doing, stepping out of that dress, brushing her long hair. But I can’t help thinking of what we could be doing together, my cock stiffening again. I want to know her, in every way. I want to make love to her, want to taste every inch of her body, feel her come around me. Want her at my side, more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. I can’t imagine my life without her. I don’t give a shit about paperwork, about my careful plans, about anything. I only care about her.
Then it hits me.
Fuck.
I drop back into the water again, floating on my back, staring up at the merciless stars. I can’t lie to myself any longer.
I’m her boss. She’s my employee.
And I’m falling for her.
