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warms me to my core.
I gasped out loud.Is this about a girl?
I turned another page, launched myself into another spin, and kicked my legs straight out in front of me while I spun and read his poetry. It was so innocent and beautiful. I’d read a lot of poetry—the artist bunch and all—but his was so unassuming. So real. He just wanted to record what he felt. That, or there was some weird Cyrano shit going on here and someone was writing poems for him.
The chair stopped suddenly, jolting me to the side. I sucked in a surprised breath.
Dr. Brady had his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned over me with a dangerous glint in his chocolate eyes. “Matthews,” he said, his voice low and husky like he hadn’t used it all day.
My breath froze in my lungs. I shrank back in the chair, gripping the book in my shaking hands.
Fuuuuuuuuuuck.
He smelled like his cedarwood soap and was dressed in a black, athletic T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders enticingly. His biceps flexed as he leaned closer to me, nearly putting us nose to nose. “What are you doing?”
An inarticulate sound escaped my throat. He plucked the yellow journal from my fingers, scowling. “I, uh,” I stammered.
Dr. Brady slammed the book closed with one hand and then leaned around me again, pressing the book between his enormous hand and the chair arm. “You, what?” he challenged softly. His body caged me in, fully preventing any escape from the chair.
I wonder where he’ll hide my body,I thought.
“Matthews,” he snapped.
I jumped, lifting my eyes to his. “Yeah?” I asked weakly.
“I asked what you’re doing.”
I swallowed hard, drinking in his long lashes and the dark, slashing eyebrows that looked like they’d been painted with the steadiest, fading stroke of a paintbrush. “I’m… snooping,” I admitted, dazed.
“Hm,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes.
Wait, wait, wait, I thought with sudden alarm.Why are my nipples getting hard? What is this? Shut the fuck up, body. We’re in danger of being killed, not screwed.
“You’re going to be late if you don’t get your rear end out of my office, in your car, and up to Jackson Hole.”
I glanced down at his toned arms, still trapping me. “I, uh, you’ve got your…” I faltered.Sir, you have your well defined, sexy arms dangerously close to wrapping around my body. And for some bizarre reason, there’s a hormone monster inside of me that wants you to.
He didn’t move. “Something wrong?”
Sense sparked to life inside of me when I registered his tone. I lifted a scrunched scowl up to his now amused expression. “Oh, very funny.” I swatted his arm. “Get off me.”
Dr. Brady caught my hand and wrenched me to my feet with alarming ease. I would have crashed into him if he hadn’t caught me by my upper arms in a firm grip. He lifted me slightly, so unconsciously strong, he brought me to my tiptoes. “If I find you in here again, you’re going to regret it, Matthews.”
I scoffed with confidence I didn’t feel. “Oh, you’ll dowhatexactly?”
He leaned forward slightly, sending a shiver down my arms. “Fuck around and find out, June.”
I gasped. “You cursed.”
He released me and then nudged my ass with his knee, propelling me toward the door. “Get out of my office.”
I stumbled through the doorway, my heart screaming in fear, and nearly tripped in my haste to get as far away from that mortifying encounter as possible. Was he allowed to manhandle me like that? Wasn’t that some kind of HR violation even if we had been outside work hours?
No, actually, more importantly, what kind of weirdo did it make me if I enjoyed the thrill of getting caught by him? Like, I was terrified and embarrassed, but there was justsomethingabout it that had felt different than our other encounters. Sexier.
I shook my head, skip-walking down the hall and then out the front doors. It was the adrenaline, I decided. Nothing else could account for my reaction.
Four
