BOSSY: A Virgin CEO Romance

“Of course. I’m not exactly one of those women who take hours to get dressed,” I answer with exasperation.

He makes a sound low in his throat. “And how long does it take to get you undressed, agape mou?”

Teeth clenching, I stride into the bathroom, getting a small bit of satisfaction from slamming the door and blocking out his laugh. The man is insufferable. Stubborn, and selfish. He pursues what he’s convinced he wants with single-minded devotion. The thought makes me tremble, but I’m not sure if it’s fear or anticipation.

The wind blows through my hair, picking up strands and tossing them about into utter disarray as I lean against the railing of the Kakos’s yacht. The elaborate hairstyle I’d spent twenty minutes pinning up is completely ruined, but the night breeze is refreshing.

I turn my head as Jayson joins me. I don’t speak, and he doesn’t either, to my surprise. He puts his hand on the rail next to mine, our skin barely touching. I wait for him to try more, but he seems content with just reminding me that he’s within arm’s reach.

“Dance with me.”

For the first time, I realize the band that was setting up before dinner is now playing. Several couples dance close together on the deck, in Western style rather than in the Greek tradition. I shake my head, trying to dig in my heels when he takes my hand.

“Come on, Harper. It’s just a dance.”

I think about protesting, mainly because I very much want to dance with him, which is the scariest thought yet. A second thought dismisses the idea, and finally I decide one dance can’t hurt. Sure, it may test my resolve, but I’m in no danger of surrendering to him in a crowd of fellow dancers.

He stops at the edge of the makeshift dance area, drawing me into his strong arms. He maintains a respectable distance between us, and it pisses me off that that angers me.

At first, I hold myself stiffly, but soon it gets uncomfortable. As we sway to the soft music, with its occasional sharp metallic twang from the bouzouki, I find myself relaxing, letting my body move a little closer.

“That’s better,” says Jayson.

I try to move away, but he holds me closer. “Relax, Harper. Pretend my touch doesn’t annoy you.” He runs his hand down my back, making me shudder. Jayson chuckles. “Or perhaps I should say stop pretending that it does?”

“I’m done dancing,” I answer through gritted teeth.

“Too bad. I’m not.” His arms enfold me, molding our bodies together. He feels so good, fitted against my skin.

I glare at him. “Do you want me to make a scene?”

He quirks a brow, as though considering it. “Maybe. Anger would be an improvement from your cold disdain you’ve shown me the past few days.”

“I’m not disdainful toward you, Jayson, just apathetic,” I say, trying to appear calm, even though I’m burning up inside.

He makes a scoffing sound low in his throat. “You might hate me, or you might desire me—maybe both—but you are not indifferent, agape mou.”

I know. It’s dangerous to provoke him. Still I can’t seem to keep from replying. “Believe what you will, Jayson. I don’t care.”

His lips curl into a slight smile. “Of course you don’t. You do not care if I put my hand here”—he rests it just above my ass—“or if I put my lips here.” Jayson lowers his head to place a light kiss at the bend of her neck. “You certainly don’t care if I do this,” he whispers against my skin, as his other hand roams from my hip to just under my breast, his fingers grazing it.

I do my best to hide any hint of a reaction, but fail miserably when he sucks at the delicate flesh of my neck, drawing it into his mouth and biting gently. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I shiver, though the night isn’t cold.

“Yes, I can see you’re totally unaffected,” he says before easing away.

Though I don’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, I’m dying with desire. Through sheer determination, I make it through the rest of the dance, tearing myself from his arms the moment the song ends. Hurrying away from the deck, I open the first door I come to and flick on the light. It’s not a restroom, as I hoped because I’d be able to lock it--but a small room with a table and chairs. I close the door, leaning against it. My breath is coming strong and fast.

My heart hammering in my ears, I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to calm down. It’s daunting to think about returning to the deck, and to Jayson, but I can’t hide in here all night. As it is, I’ve already embarrassed myself by fleeing from him. And I hadn’t planned on revealing any emotions to that stupid husband of mine.

With another deep breath, I straighten and turn, grasping the doorknob. As the door opens, I gasp to find Jayson standing on the other side. Resisting the strong but childish urge to slam the door in his face I say, “Excuse me,” with what I hope can pass for cool indifference. “I thought this was the restroom.”

He puts a palm against the door, pushing it toward me. He is stronger and soon slips inside. A wave of dread washes over me when he closes the door with a soft click. “Excuse me, Jayson. I need the powder room. Would you please move out of my way.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward. “I know what you need, Harper, and it isn’t escape to the powder room.”

I sniff. “You really don’t know anything about me, so how could you know what I need?” I reach past him for the doorknob, but end up much too close.

“You know what you need too.”