Autumn - In Love With My Boss (An Office Romance)| Completed

Chapter 31 - Autumn

Back in my apartment, I strip out of the uncomfortable work clothes and wrap myself into my favorite bathrobe. I love it, the fabric is so soft and warm, just the right apparel for a night in front of the TV with a steaming cup of tea.

I don't know what time it is or what I've been watching, when a knock on the door wakes me with a start. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. No wonder, after those sleepless nights my body tries to catch up on much needed rest.

Still dizzy from being half-asleep, I stumble to the door, tripping over the shoes I kicked off carelessly in hallway when I got home. For a second I wonder if this could be Mike, and I'm about to decide against answering the door, when I hear another knock and a very familiar, very pleasant voice calling my name through the heavy wood.

It can't be ... can it?

I open ... and my knees immediately respond to the sight of the person standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. They are so weak I doubt they will hold me up much longer.

"Mr. Marlow?" Surprisingly, I get the words out without revealing my nervousness. Or so I hope, at least.

He looks at me as puzzled as I feel.

"What are you doing?" He sounds annoyed. "It's almost eight. Are you planning on going to a ball in a bathrobe?"

"Huh?" That's all I manage to whimper.

His lips turn to an amused smile. "If I were you, I would change. You might draw some looks there otherwise."

How is this possible? He is here? I'm so stunned I cannot move. Do you see him, too? Or have I just gone crazy? Maybe I'm actually still asleep on the couch and I'm just dreaming this. The bemused gaze he regards me with tells me otherwise, though.

"Well," he grins. "Can I come in?"

"Oh," I stutter. "Of ... of course."

I lead him into my living room where he takes a seat on my sofa. He looks gorgeous in his black suit and matching bow tie. His every move lets me catch a hint of the muscles that are hidden underneath his white dress shirt.

Inspecting me carefully, he laughs softly. This deep, velvety tone sends intense shivers all through me and I can't even lift one finger; that's how paralyzed I am by the situation, just by looking at him. Well, okay, technically, I'm not looking, I'm staring.

"You should hurry, we're already late as it is."

My voice fails me, so I just nod and rush into my bedroom to grab a dress, before I lock myself in the bathroom.

He is taking me to the gala, he is taking me there!

This thought echoes through my head as I hastily take a shower, put on my makeup, pin my hair up, and step into that enormously expensive dress I bought on my shopping spree. It is truly beautiful; a turquoise shoulder-less dream with a flared hem that falls right to my ankles and hugs my curves at all the right places. As I tie the black bow around my waist, I let out a deep, very deep breath to calm myself. Then, I'm somewhat ready to face my boss. On shaky legs I enter the living room, putting on a smile to hide my inner turmoil.

Casually, he looks over to me, probably to check if I'm ready to go. Weird, he does a double-take and slowly stands, his arms pushing the rest of his body off the cushions.

His eyes look me up and down, once, twice, three times. This gaze of his is so penetrating I can physically feel it touching every inch of me. Please slow down, silly heart, please.

He swallows hard before his words reach me. "I knew you were... I mean, I know you are... I just... I didn't expect this."

This? I don't ask him what he's trying to tell me, although I could use some reassurance. His words have me feel rather self-conscious and instinctively, I lower my head.

Slowly, he approaches me, taking my hand in his.

"I will be the envy of the party," he whispers.

It's a good thing I'm looking down right now, since I can feel the heat on my face, a reliable indicator that blood is rushing to my cheeks; lots of it.

With his index finger slightly bent, he raises my chin to make me look at him.This gesture feels so intimate that I can't help it, I begin to shiver. He must have noticed what effect his touch has on me, since the left corner of his mouth curls up into a breathtakingly sweet smile. For a moment, neither of us moves, we just stand there, his fingers cupping my chin, our eyes locked.

It's a reflex, it's not like I intend to do this, but my lips part slightly under his intense gaze. I'm drowning in that color that reminds me of chilly arctic waters, which grow more and more turbulent with every beat of my heart. They overwhelm me, take me in, swallow me whole, and I let them. I don't fight to swim back to the safety of the shore, I allow myself to drift away, carried by the troubled waves that seem to struggle against an upcoming storm. The icy tide of his irises roams over the heated skin of my face until its movements slow down to linger on my lips.

Everything comes to a standstill, everything around me slips into non-existence, the only thing I hear is my inner voice, quietly calling out to him.

Deaf to its plea, he draws in a sharp breath and suddenly bereaves me of his gentle touch.

Clearing his throat, he mumbles, "We're late, we should go."