Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales 1)

“That’s because I’m not making any sense,” he said, frustration clear in his tone. He rested a hand on her thigh. It trembled under his touch. “You obviously put a hell of a lot of thought into this date, which either means you wanted to prove a point about how much I screwed up Saturday night—”

“What?” She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Or you care about what I think and feel, and wanted to make me happy.”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah. And so what if I do?”

“It’s been a hell of a long time since anyone gave a damn what I wanted. This thing we have between us? It’s no longer just for show. Not on my end.” He gritted his teeth, trying to think of the best way to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. “I want you.”

“Benjamin…”

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll never mention this again.” He held on to her chin with his thumb and forefinger, keeping his touch gentle enough for her to turn away if she wanted. She didn’t. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She closed her mouth, opened it, and said, “You’re not wrong. I do. But—”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her mouth. “You don’t want to want me, because you think it’s a horrible idea, and that I’m going to hurt you like all the guys before me.”

“Right,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. “And you’re my boss, so when that happens, it’ll be even worse. That’s why it’s a terrible idea.”

When he hurt her. Not if.

She was so certain that’s how they would end, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that—besides the fact that he didn’t like it. “All great ideas start with bad ones. No one gets it right all the time.”

She swallowed. “But this is all happening so fast, and—”

“It’s not, though.” He removed his finger from her soft, kissable lips. Lips he couldn’t have. “I’ve wanted you ever since the first day you started workin

g for me. You walked into my office with your hair down. You wore that black skirt, and a blue blouse, with a pair of black heels. Do you remember what you said to me?”

A small sound escaped her, and she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe he remembered what she wore that day. “I think I told you my name, and informed you that I intended to be the best researcher you’d ever met.”

“I think you’ve become that.” He smiled. “That’s how you made this happen tonight. You researched, right?”

“Seriously. I was just trying to give you a good night,” she said quickly. “It was nothing.”

“If you want it to be nothing,” he said slowly, locking gazes with her. “It can be nothing. Or, it can be something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you don’t want more, I’ll make sure you never find out how much I want to kiss you again, or how it’s all I think about. I’ll stop telling you that what you did for me tonight means something, something real, and I’ll act like I don’t give a shit.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m good at that. I’ve had a lot of practice at hiding what I think and feel.”

“I’d never want that.” She shook her head. “Don’t hide your feelings from me.”

He smiled slightly. “Fine. You want honesty?”

“Uh…” She hesitated, but nodded. “Sure. Go for it.”

“In just these few short days, you’ve made me feel things I wasn’t sure I could anymore, and I think you could do a hell of a lot more, if we both let you.”

“Benjamin—”

“I know. I know.” He let go of her. “You’re not interested. But I had to say it. For the first time in years, I want to lay it all out there, in the open for all to see, because you deserve nothing less.”

“Why do you feel like you have to hide your emotions at all?” she asked.

He sucked in a breath, watching her. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this conversation.

She must have seen the panic in his eyes. “Never mind. It’s—”