Page 491 of Manhattan Bossholes

I managed a half-smile.

“Those hurts are in your past. I hope you feel like things are different now. You have a bright future, and people all around you who appreciate you and want to see you succeed.” He paused and placed his other hand on top of mine. “Like me.”

I sniffled, working hard to suppress my sadness. The fact that James was holding my hand barely registered, because I was too focused on not crying.

“The way people treat you is no indication of your worth,” he continued. “It’s a reflection of their shortcomings and hang-ups. Everyone at Branson thinks you’re so special. And I hope you understand that.”

“Everyone at work,” I said. “But that’s because I always give one hundred and ten percent. I figured out when I was just a kid that if I worked harder than everyone else, I’d get approval from teachers, from my foster parents—from my bosses, eventually. But being useful, being valuable…that’s not the same as being loved or being wanted for me, not just for what I can do.”

“Natalie, I’ve not been honest enough with you,” James said in a low voice. “I said that your colleagues think the world of you, but what I meant is, I do. And not just because of your work. You’re always in my thoughts. Hell, you’re in my dreams. You’re a…a distraction.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer him because he almost sounded upset, like he was angry about the fact that I was in his head.

James turned to me, still clutching my hand. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop thinking about you, wanting to⁠—”

“Wanting to what?” I whispered.

“This.” He untangled his hand from mine and leaned towards me slowly, then placed his finger under my chin and drew me closer to him. He paused, his blue eyes scanning my face, giving me the opportunity to back away.

It was pointless because all I’d wanted to do since we sat down next to each other was throw myself at him. The drive had finished the process of revealing a completely different side of James the bosshole, the kinder side of him that his brother had hinted at, that I’d seen glimpses of before.

And I liked him. So much.

I leaned closer until our lips were centimeters apart. Everything would change if we kissed. Absolutely everything. The moment seemed endless while we both waited to see what would happen next.

“You’re killing me,” James finally whispered, placing his hand on the back of my head and gently drawing me to him.

I melted against him as our lips connected. The kiss felt a little desperate, like we couldn’t get enough of the heat coursing through us. I grabbed onto his shirt near the collar, crumpling the fabric in my hand. I wanted to make sure that he couldn’t slip away from me, that he wouldn’t try to break off what we were finally doing.

We were at an awkward angle sitting side by side, and I started to move my leg over his so I could slide onto his lap. I wanted to grind against him, circle my arms around his neck and possess him. I wanted to feel his strong hands clutching my waist, and get lost in his arms.

This kiss, the way our mouths moved in tandem, was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I felt unhinged with desire, and all I could think was keep going.

And then the car lurched to a stop and the driver rapped on the divider.

We jumped apart in shock. How had we gotten to a low-rent, far-flung neighborhood in Brooklyn so damn quickly?

I touched my fingertips to my lips because they felt electrified and a little tender after just a few minutes of kissing. I wondered what my body would feel like if we’d had more time.

“Um…I guess we’re here,” I said, scrambling to grab my bag.

“Indeed.”

“Thanks for the ride.” I shut my eyes in embarrassment. Worst word choice ever. “I mean, thanks for getting me home safely.”

“Happy to. Can I walk you to your door?” James asked.

I pictured him escorting me up the stairs and then the awkward moment where we had to figure out a way to say goodbye even though we’d just been making out in the back of his Mercedes. This man was my boss; it didn’t matter that he’d just kissed me like no one else ever. Tomorrow, we were going to be forced to sit across a conference table and pretend that we were just normal colleagues and not two people who desperately wanted to fuck.

Did we, though?

Well, I only knew for a fact that that it was what I wanted, but based on the way James had kissed me, it was a safe bet he was more than willing to get naked with me.

“No, that’s okay!” I finally squeaked out. “It’s a safe neighborhood, I’ll be fine, thanks.”

I hopped out of the car and leaned over to say goodbye. James was staring at me in the half-light, looking hungry enough to pull me back inside to pick up where we’d left off.

And I wished he would.