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“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.” She put her finger to her lip. “Shh.”
This woman was going to destroy my sanity.
Wait. Too late. She already had.
I took a step forward to grab my coffee off my desk, my mouth suddenly dry. “Excuse me,” I said. She was in front of the desk. I meant shift to the right or left, but I didn’t make that clear.
Faith took a step back, and that curvy, juicy ass I coveted so much, bumped into my desk. It rattled, and suddenly she was jumping forward, colliding with my chest, and letting out a yelp.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, bewildered.
“What the hell was that?” She turned and was wiping at her ass.
There was a big dark stain on her bottom. A glance at the table showed my coffee had spilled. When she’d bumped the desk, her purse had fallen over and knocked the paper cup over. “My coffee. Are you okay?” Worried she had gotten burned, I ripped my shirttail out and pressed it against her skirt.
“I’m fine. Just wet.”
Just wet.
I froze.
She froze.
We both turned heads to lock gazes and I swear to God, it was like it was happening in slow motion. My hand was on her ass. My thighs were on either side of her leg. Her shoulder was bumping my bicep. Our mouths were inches apart. One tiny little shift, one little turn of her hips and I could have her palms splayed on my desk, ass up in invitation, my hand under her skirt to see just how wet she was.
The moment in reality was probably ten seconds but it felt like it lingered like smoke, tendrils reaching out, wrapping around us, before finally dissipating.
Since she’d arrived, it felt like we were drowning in innuendos. Temptation island. We were stranded on it.
“You can take your hand off of my ass,” she murmured.
Could I, though? It seemed to be cemented to her curves.
But then I heard my brothers’ voices. They went into the conference room.
I jerked my hand back. “Right. Of course.”
But I couldn’t resist flipping her hair off of her shoulder and massaging her lightly, like I wanted to do to her ass. It was a displaced massage. Which was ridiculous. But I was ridiculous. We had firmly established that.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to get my head in the game.”
“Is it working?”
“Not really.” By sheer will, I ripped my hand from her shoulder and took a step back. “Let’s do this.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said, amusement in her voice.
She’d called me an idiot before. And she’d been right.
“Hey. I’m going to be your boss, remember?”
She didn’t look concerned by that fact.
The only one concerned was clearly me.
“Yes, sir.”
