Page 43 of My Favorite Boss

She settled on the back of the sofa, looking at me. “But it wasn’t.”

I had no idea why I was telling her this. I never discussed my personal life. Ever.

“No. It was my passion, and I think my dad understood. He was the only one. He died when I was young. I had huge fights with my mother that grew worse after my dad died. He was a successful lawyer, yet still a gentle man, from what I recall of him. She always had visions of grandeur. Of being more than we were. I remember disagreements between them. She wanted him to spend his inheritance, but he refused.” I laughed dryly. “It wasn’t a huge amount, and I think my father knew it would be gone in a hurry. He was saving the money for their future. When he died, she tried to get her hands on the money and failed because my father left it in trust for me, the way his father had left it for him. She wasn’t happy, which, coming from her, was the norm, really. I think she thought life with my father would be different than it was. More…opulent. When she met Doug, she saw that opportunity and grabbed it. She married too fast after he died. Changed her name. Wanted me to change mine, which I refused to do. That was another mark against me on a very long list.” I ran a hand over my face. “Her refusal to accept what I wanted to do, the only thing that brought me any sort of happiness, was another one of the many arguments that tore us apart.”

“You don’t get along at all.”

“No. We strike sparks. She hates my job. Hates my single status. Hates I’m not in the headlines the way my stepbrother or stepfather are.”

“But your reputation…” she protested.

I shook my head. “Isn’t enough. I am never enough for her.”

“That’s why you avoid her.”

I sighed, running a hand over my hair and pushing it away from my face. “We argue constantly. Always have. We’re like chalk and cheese. Nothing is enough. Right now, all of her friends have weddings they are planning for their children. She wants me to give her that, so she is constantly trying to set me up on dates with the ‘right’ sort of woman. One who will make me see sense. I refuse. We argue. She leaves.” I lifted an eyebrow. “And the cycle begins again. She shows up, tells me everything I’m doing wrong, how much of a disappointment I am, a letdown to the family, we argue…” I lifted a shoulder. “She is all about reputation. Presenting a united front. Upper-class BS I want nothing to do with.”

She grimaced. “No wonder she was so horrified by my story of why you couldn’t see her.”

I began to chuckle, and I moved in front of her, resting my arms on the back of the sofa, caging her in. “I would have given anything to see her face when you said that, Myers. I can only imagine the appalled expression.”

Myers frowned then contorted her face into a mock scream of terror. Then she grinned. “Kinda like that.”

I laughed again, lowering my head and letting the amusement escape. Good God, she was funny. I lifted my head, meeting her dark eyes. They were dancing in amusement.

“You are too much,” I whispered, feeling the heat begin to build between us again. I pushed a long strand of hair off her face, twisting it in my fingers. I lifted it to my nose, inhaling. “You smell so good.”

Her breathing picked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I eased closer. “The first day you were in the office, I wondered how you’d smell here.” I traced the delicate skin of her neck, making her shiver. “Here.” I touched the lobe of her ear. “Here,” I added softly, letting my finger ghost down to the vee of her shirt. “Especially here.”

She licked her lips, her tongue pink and wet. “Why don’t you find out?”

I glanced toward the door.

“The outer office is locked. There’s no one else here.” She met my eyes. “Just us.”

“I won’t kiss you while you’re wearing another man’s shirt. I don’t care who it belongs to.”

She rolled her shoulders, the plaid shirt falling away. She tugged the sleeves off, exposing her tight tank top. Her hard nipples pressed through the soft material.

I slid my hand up her arm, feeling the goose bumps that erupted on her skin. I made my way to her neck, brushing the thick hair to one side. I lowered my head to the soft skin of her nape, inhaling.

“Oh, Magnolia,” I murmured, my voice raspy. “It’s even better than I thought.”

Then I claimed her mouth.

Chapter Ten

MAGNOLIA

Oh my God. His mouth. He might grunt, shout, and yell a lot, but when he kissed, his mouth and tongue were talented. Erotic. Addictive. He kissed me like I was his oxygen and he needed me to breathe. Deep and carnal. Exploring, licking, sucking, nipping. He held my head between his large hands, tilting me one way, then another. Kissing me until I was dizzy. Drunk with desire. Filled with a need only he could meet. Then he slid his hands down my sides, clutching at my ass, a low, pleased rumble in his chest. He pulled me tight to his chest, and I felt the muscles under the polo he wore. Firm, sculpted, hard. He trailed his hands along my thighs, lifting my legs and wrapping them around his waist, bringing our lower bodies flush.

That muscle was hard. Thick. Pushing into my core, making me want to feel more of it. Of him. He ground against me, and I whimpered at the exquisite sensation. I wanted more. I tugged at his neck, gripped his shoulders, slid my fingers through his hair, feeling the way he reacted to my touch.

As if he was starved for it.

Recalling his mother and the way he held himself away from people, I wondered if perhaps he was.