Tempt The Boss (Tempt 1)

I rush out of the office, the sound of Noah’s laughter trailing behind me as the elevator doors close.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

LAUREN

It’s been a long two days, made even more hectic because I was on edge. Ever since Austin hightailed it out of my house like his pants were on fire, I’ve been a mess.

Does he want to be with me? Does he just want a casual relationship, to be with me when I don’t have the kids? Can I even be in that type of relationship? I’m not sure. I have my kids all the time. To top it all off, I can’t seem to get in touch with him about tonight.

I huff out a breath as I get out of my car and walk up to my front door. Opening the door, I’m hit with thick white smoke and the fire alarm going off.

“What the fuck, Kaleigh?” I storm into the kitchen and come to a complete stop.

Austin is in my kitchen, wearing white Calvin Klein boxers and an apron. My mouth waters right away, but then I see the fire coming from the pot on the stove and notice that he is using the sprayer from the sink to douse the flame with water. “What in the world?” I run to the back of the house, opening the door so the smoke will clear out of the kitchen. I grab what I think is a kitchen towel that is sitting on the table. I pick it up and see what is underneath.

I gasp out in shock, because under the cloth is a mini sex store. I’m talking cuffs, a whip, butt plugs, balls, nipple clamps, bullets, cock rings, four different vibrators. He looks over at me. “Oh, that is for dessert.”

I run to the smoke detector and start waving the cloth under it, trying to get it to turn off. “What is going on here?” I look at him and ask. “Why are you burning down my house?”

He looks at me, the water spraying across my whole kitchen when he turns around. “I’m trying to woo you.” He turns back around and finally puts out the fire. “I’m cooking for you—flambéed steak—but I guess I put too much alcohol in the pan. It pouffed up too fast and got a little bit out of control.” He reaches for a small rag to wipe up the water.

The alarm finally stops ringing and I run up the stairs to get towels. Throwing one at him, I put mine on the floor and start to walk on it across the floor in an attempt to soak up the water before throwing another one down.

“You went to work like that?” I look down at my outfit. I’m wearing tailored trousers, a white fitted shirt, and a matching jacket.

“First, you try to burn down my house. Now you’re insulting my wardrobe!” I throw my hands up.

He drops his towel by his feet and storms over to me. He grabs me by my ass and hoists me up as his mouth crashes down on mine. His tongue slides against mine, and I pull him closer. I’ve missed him so much. The feel of him, the sound of his voice, even the annoying pen-tapping thing he does on the desk when he’s thinking.

I moan into his mouth while the kiss turns frantic, almost desperate. Neither of us interested in stopping, he puts me down on the counter, right in a puddle of water. Cold water. “Fuck,” I squeak out.

“Oh, shit. We should get you out of those pants.” He quickly whips off my shoes. “Lift up,” he urges, and I try to lift myself up on my hands, but they slip off the counter because of the water. I fall backward, and Austin face-plants into my stomach.

“Ouch,” I whine, while he just laughs against my stomach.

“I’m supposed to be wooing you,” he mumbles into my stomach while placing little kisses on it. “Romancing you.”

“Ahh, I see. Nothing says romance or wooing quite like anal beads do.” I chuckle, running my hand through his hair and looking around at my house. It looks like a bomb went off in here, but looking down at him with his lopsided grin, I can’t be upset.

“The anal beads were for after the wooing.” He smiles at me. “I missed you.” He gets up and pulls me to a sitting position.

He puts my hair behind my ears, cupping my face in his hands. “This was supposed to be romantic.” He kisses my lips softly.

“It is.” I smile as I stroke my thumb across his cheek. “No one has ever tried to romance me.”

“I was a dick,” he says, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Which time?” I ask him.

“When I left on Sunday.” I look down, not ready for him to see how much it bothered me.