Bossman (Dirty Office Romance 1)

“That makes sense.” My stomach was in knots. It wasn’t lost on me that he’d said he wasn’t ready and he hadn’t met the right person, as if those things were past tense. He’d made it clear he wanted me physically almost from the beginning—that was never a question in my mind. I wanted so much to ask if he thought more was possible now, but I was afraid of the answer. I mean, how do you move on—fall in love with another woman—when you’ve never stopped loving someone else?

When I said nothing, Chase reached over and put his hand on my chin, gently lifting until our eyes met. “I want more with you. I can’t promise you what that is or where it will go, but it’s more than just physical. I’m attracted to everything about you—you’re smart, honest, funny, brave, a little nutty—and you make me smile for no reason. There’s no denying I want you in my bed. I think you’ve caught on to that part by now. But I want this, too. I’m tired of looking back. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to live in the moment.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you for being so honest.”

Just then, the waiter came with our dinner. The air was heavy, and I had no idea how to lighten the mood, yet I felt like we needed it. If there was one thing I knew, it was that talking about sex usually made Chase playful.

I cut a bite of my steak and brought the fork to my lips. “Have you ever played Would You Rather?”

His brows drew down. “When I was a kid.”

“My friend Jules and I play it all the time—usually after a few drinks.”

“Okay…”

I sipped my wine and held his gaze. “Would you rather pay for sex or be paid for sex?”

He cocked a brow. “Be paid. You?”

“I think I’d rather pay for it.”

“I like this game.” Chase leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “Top or bottom?”

“Bottom.” I paused. “You?”

“Top.” He pointed his fork at me. “See how compatible we are. Lights on or off?”

“On. You?”

“On. So I can watch your face while I sink inside of you.”

Warmth prickled my skin. I gulped. “You’re not supposed to elaborate. You’re only supposed to say your pick.”

“Why would I do that, when giving a more descriptive answer makes your skin turn such a sexy shade of pink?”

We went back and forth like that for the rest of our meal, sharing snippets of both sexy and not-so-sexy preferences. It did what I’d intended it to do—lightened the mood—but it also had desire fighting the voice of reason inside of me.

And, at the moment, desire was kicking reason’s ass.

After dinner, when Chase and I arrived at our adjoining suites, I felt like I was ending a first date in high school.

He took both my hands in his, keeping a few feet between us as he spoke. “Thank you for having dinner with me. And for letting me crash your trip.”

“You were on the plane when I got on. It’s not like I had much of a choice.” I was joking, of course.

“I’m going to take off after the morning focus group, head back to New York on an afternoon flight.”

“You’re leaving? Why?”

“Because I keep pushing, hoping you’ll break. And tonight I realized you need to get there on your own. I’ll be waiting when you do.” He pulled me to him and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“Now go inside before I change my mind and you’re up against the door instead of behind it safely.”

***

I leaned my head against the door for a solid ten minutes once I was inside. After five, I’d heard Chase’s door click open and close, and I wondered if he’d been standing on the other side struggling like I was.

I couldn’t remember ever wanting another man as badly as I wanted Chase. For a while, I’d thought it was because he was my boss—that exciting feeling of being tempted by the forbidden. But I knew it was more than that. So much more, it scared the hell out of me. I’d been using the fact that he was my boss as an excuse to keep distance. But the truth was, the things I felt around the man terrified me. I hadn’t exactly been lucky in love. Neither had my parents. Could I find true love in the shadow of another woman?

I was afraid—and I was also tired of being afraid. That realization made me think of his tattoo.

Fear does not stop death. It stops life.

Eight little words, yet it held the story of both of our lives.

As I took a deep breath, it hit me that I hadn’t turned on the lights in my room yet. That was totally unusual for me. Ordinarily, I’d have performed my sweep of the room within ten seconds of entering—checking in the closet and shower, looking under the ever-intimidating bed. Sighing, I forced myself not to look, even though it was now gnawing at me since I’d mentally acknowledged I’d been remiss. At least there was one fear I wasn’t going to allow to control me tonight.