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She stared up at him, giving up on the silly idea of wanting to put a stop to this and admitting that she wanted, more than anything, for him to kiss her properly. Here, in the privacy of this bedroom, with no family watching, no ex boyfriend lingering nearby.
“I’m not drunk now.”
“No?”
“I had a glass of champagne at the day spa.”
“How long ago?”
“More than an hour,” she said, hopefully.
This was getting ridiculous. Why didn’t she just kiss him? God, she wanted to.
There was no way he wouldn’t be able to hear her heart slamming into her ribs, right? Feel it, even, with how close they were standing.
He nodded slowly, his eyes dropping to her lips. Everything groaned to a halt. The planet stopped spinning, the air stopped moving, even her heart froze.
“But you still work for me.”
Her heart twisted in the silent void.
His head dropped lower, despite his words, his eyes probing hers, looking for direction.
“And you’re still heartbroken.”
“Not heartbroken,” she said quietly.
He shifted, just the smallest amount but she knew, somehow, that he was going to step back from her, and she didn’t want that. She lifted her hand, twisting her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, holding him – or compelling him to stay – right where he was.
“Not heartbroken,” she repeated, not sure why, but certain she wanted to make that point.
He dropped his head lower again, so low that their lips were parted by only an inch and something inside of her flashed. Memories of their kiss that morning, certainty that it was about to be repeated. She made the softest noise and pushed up, but then his hand was on hers, neatly disentangling her fingers, guiding it to her side.
“But still my assistant.” He continued to hold her hand though, his thumb padding over the soft flesh of her palm. “And still very much off-limits.”
Off-limits!
Isn’t that what she’d thought about him, only the day before?
He was right, but God, off-limits had never seemed so essential.
“You sleep with women all the time,” she heard herself say quietly.
He stilled, his thumb pausing for a moment before resuming its trajectory, swiping across her soft skin in a way that was shooting arrows of desire through her body.
“What’s your point?”
She bit down on her lip. “I don’t know if I had one. I was just making conversation.”
His smile was mocking. “No, you weren’t. You were trying to work something out. What?”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I don’t know. I can just tell.”
She shook her head, the movement bringing her closer, her lips only a centimetre from his now. “I’ve only ever had sex with one man – someone I thought I loved. Someone I thought I was going to marry. You and I see sex very differently.”
He shifted, his leg brushing hers, separating her legs a little. She bit back a moan.
