Page 28 of Dashing Mr. Snow


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“Oh, sorry!” I sit up, wiping my mouth and praying I didn’t just drool on my boss’s shirt. “This is so embarrassing.” I adjust myself on the cushion, fidgeting nervously, but he just smiles at me as he brushes aside my hair that has fallen from my ponytail and gotten stuck to my cheek.

“Don’t apologize, you needed it.”

“You didn’t have to stay. I wouldn’t have been offended if you left.”

He looks confused. “Why would I leave? Feels a little rude to just walk out when you’re asleep and leave you to wake up alone.”

He’s doing that thing again where he’s studying my face, his eyes conveying a message he’s never put voice to.

They drop to my lips, causing me to lick them self-consciously.

“I have to tell you, I’m pretty excited to experience an Emmert Christmas. Is this going to be at your childhood home?”

“Yes,” I answer, all my nerves about him coming to my family holiday rushing back, just like the night before.

“What should I bring? What kind of wine does everyone like?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing, trust me. That’s very kind of you though.” I touch his arm and his eyes drop to my fingers. “I um, I’m actually glad you brought it up because”—I swallow down a lump of nerves—“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea actually.”

“Not a good idea?”

“That you come to my family Christmas.”

“Oh.” He looks surprised, and I instantly regret saying anything.

“Not because I don’t want you there or anything like that, it’s just—” I don’t finish the sentence because I don’t really know what my problem is. I’m beginning to think it has nothing to do with embarrassment over how loud or chaotic my family is. I think it goes a lot deeper than that. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not sure what’s happening between us, and I am well aware that a billionaire who looks like him could get any woman he wants. Men like him don’t fall in love with their low-level employees and live happily ever after. That only happens in Hallmark movies, and my life is more like a low-budget calamity of errors.

“Why are you worried about me coming to your family holiday, Sadie?”

I shrug and turn my face away, but he just turns his body to see me better.

“Is it because I’m your boss?”

“Partly.” I let out a nervous laugh as I drag my finger up and down the seam on the edge of my pajama bottoms.

“Or is it because”—he hooks a finger under my chin, turning me to face him—“you’re attracted to me too, but are afraid of what’s happening between us?”

“Too?”

He gives me that devilish grin. “Yes,too. You have to know how attracted I am to you, Sadie. How I haven’t stopped thinking about these lips since I tasted them.” Using his thumb, he pulls down on my lower lip. “How badly I want to taste them again.”

He leans closer until his lips are hovering over mine, teasing me.

“Tell me you want it too. Tell me you’ve imagined my hands on your body.”

“I have.” I shock myself with my response, but he doesn’t give me time to elaborate before he claims my mouth with a kiss.

His lips cover mine, his tongue snaking inside my mouth to gently stroke my own. The kiss is slow but somehow so much hotter than the one at the bar, which I wouldn’t have thought possible. He’s kissing me like I really am the only thing he’s been craving for the last twenty-four hours, like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss me and he wants to savor every last second.

CHAPTER8

Alex

Never in my life have I wanted a kiss to last forever.

She moans against my mouth, her hands tangling in my hair as I attempt to control myself. I drop my hands to her hips, pulling her body on top of mine until she’s straddling my lap. Neither of us breaks contact as I begin to stroke her body, the thin material of her shirt gathering beneath my hands. I reach her breasts, and I can’t resist. I gently cup them, swiping my thumbs over her nipples through her shirt. They harden beneath my touch, and I want to suck them into my mouth. But just as quickly as I started touching her, she pulls back to end the kiss, her body trembling.

Her hair is a mess, her lips parted and swollen as her eyes bore into mine. “We—we shouldn’t,” she says, sounding unconvinced.

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