Summer Worthington doesn't hate her corporate job, per se. It's her god-awful boss, Mr. Griffin - or, as her roommates like to call him, Mr. Grouchy - who's the problem. He's cruel, cold-hearted, and the most attractive man she's ever seen.
As his p...
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MAX'S WORDS CRACKLE THROUGH ME like an electric current, singeing my nerve endings. The fire burning in his eyes and the conviction ringing in his voice—pretty much everything about him—has a heady awareness humming through me.
I clamp my legs together again, trying to assuage the need that pulses between my thighs.
Maybe I shouldn't be so quick (or willing) to comply—he's barked out an order like the fictional males I tend to roll my eyes at—but I weirdly appreciate that he's taking control and telling me what to do. I'm at the point where my brain's well and truly checked out and my body's just waiting for instruction.
But I'm also no innocent flower, and the need to keep up with Max, maybe even put him through his paces, is overwhelming.
Lust, anticipation, and a hint of self-consciousness curls through me as I lean back. I've played this game so many times, I practically know all the moves by heart. And nine times out of ten, actions speak louder than words. Particularly when he's put everything out there already, laying it on the line. There's nothing left for me to say or add.
Planting my ass on the very edge of his desk and bracing my palms on either side of me, I spread my legs a little, hoping my tight-fitting dress rides up and he gets a glimpse of my favourite underwear.
Heat and approval spark in the depths of his slate-grey eyes. Bingo. "Fuck. You couldn't be more perfect if you tried."
Max's compliment flares through me, setting me alight, reminiscent of that night I pictured him talking to me, touching me, from behind. Except this time, he's in front of me, and everything about this is real.
Slowly, he steps closer until his tall, suit-clad frame settles between my splayed legs. He lowers his mouth until it's a hairsbreadth from mine, but he doesn't kiss me.
"You know we don't have to do this, right? Because I want you to be sure," he says, his breath fanning across my cheek. Despite Max's gentle words, he grabs hold of my jaw with one hand. The other smooths over my bare knee, his strong fingers digging into my thigh. "And, for the record, I want this to change things."
Blinking up at him, I'm almost too shocked to speak. I wish I was more like Lauren. She doles out love so willingly, falling for a man she's never even met. And here I am, at the mercy of someone I've known for almost a year, and I've still got walls up.
"Even if this happens, we both know everything will stay the same. It has to. You're my boss," I remind him, my voice lowering to a whisper. We might be the only two people here, and I might be comfortable sleeping with Max, but it doesn't mean I can guarantee him anything more than that. We're not a normal couple. We're a walking HR violation, and unless he's got some miracle solution, I don't see our circumstances changing anytime soon. "This can't mean anything—it doesn't mean anything."
