Perfect Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

“I won’t tell if you don’t. I bet we can figure this out after my mess gets cleaned up.”

Growling, he pulls me into his lap as we collapse together on the sofa, kissing and caressing.

“Woman, you will kill me first. If we don’t fuck soon—before any rubber stamp for dating from HR—I’ll be confetti,” he says hoarsely.

I laugh, giving him a quick kiss again before I say, “I hope not. And I hope we won’t have to wait for HR, either, office policy be damned. I couldn’t handle that.”

His lips smother mine again, softer this time, but hungrier than ever.

And when he moves away, he just holds me for the longest time, stroking his hand slowly up and down my head like I’m something to be cherished.

The silence is intense. With anyone else, it would be awkward, but with him? It’s like the pause in the lyrics of a song that makes your heart soar.

I’m tempted to kiss him again. Just to end this silent intermission.

Frankly, I’m tempted to do a lot of things I shouldn’t, knowing we have a kid here who could wake up anytime, but the way he makes me throb...

Sweet Jesus.

I’m not used to kissing guys like this.

I’m especially not used to kissing guys who are my boss and the biggest, wettest emotional rush of my existence. I’m not sure what the rules are for this.

“Can I have another beer?” I whisper, trying to un-jam my brain.

“For sure. More chilling in the fridge.”

I get up, planning to go to the fridge on my own, but he’s moving with me and our hands are still locked together.

He opens the fridge, hands me a beer, and grabs another beverage for himself—root beer, I notice.

Interesting. Looks like he’s taking this moderation thing pretty seriously.

I pop the top and take a swig. “Nick, you’ve helped me through a really dark time. I don’t think I would have gotten through this without you—”

“You would. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I just want to say I want to help you too. You don’t have to deal with all the tabloid crap on your own. I’ll help you through it any way I can,” I whisper.

He shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, I made my bed. I’ll lie in it, and without you rolling in the mud.”

“I’m here for you.”

“After our pseudo-date, I swore to myself that if you ever wound up going viral on social media, it wouldn’t be because of me. I won’t put you through that.”

I plunk my drink down on the counter, walk over to Nick, wrap my arms around him, and lean up on my toes. My plan is to be the one doing the kissing this time, but he doesn’t give me a chance.

He answers first, pressing his lips to mine, so deliciously hot. His arms tighten around my back, pulling me closer.

He kisses me so deeply my whole body trembles against him.

When he releases my mouth, I still want more. I take a deep breath instead, trying to calm down.

Oh, but he’s not done.

He runs his teeth along my cheek, my jaw, and then down the side of my neck, exercising a patience I don’t have.

I giggle, squirming away before it’s too late.

He gives me a worried look. “You don’t like that?”

“You’re—you’re making me crazy. I like it too much. But more...tonight? We should think about this,” I whisper, a horrified part of my brain screaming at my voice of reason. “If we don’t stop now...it’ll be impossible.”

He smiles, big and bold and proud. I watch him press the root beer bottle to his cheek, sighing like a beast.

“You saved me from heatstroke,” he says, pulling me closer again. “I’m damn glad you put Millie in your room with you.”

“Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t, we’d be in deep shit.”

“Because I’m so irresistible?” I joke.

“Fuck yes, you are. But grab your beer and follow me. Netflix or Monopoly?” he asks, raking his eyes across me. “If there’s not a bed in our forecast, we’d better distract ourselves.”

I snicker. “You’re a Brandt. You’ll beat me at Monopoly. Though I have to say, I never had you pegged for the board game type.”

He shrugs. “Nothing like a family war over it after Christmas dinner. It’s even better with Paige in the mix now.”

I smile. For a second, our eyes connect, and I’m dangerously close to short-circuiting.

This man makes me want to rip up my rules, my concerns, and take a big naked leap of faith.

“If I choose Netflix, do I get the remote?” I ask.

“Sure, as long as you’re not choosing chick flicks or too much skin. I’ll die,” he rumbles, a mischief dancing in his eyes that brings me to my knees.

18

Until Sunrise (Nick)

Netflix or Monopoly?

I’m such a dumbass. I sound like a high school kid, but I had to change the subject. Before I demanded if she wanted my cock or my mouth between her legs first.