Boss I Love to Hate: An Office Romance(76)

What alternate universe am I in?

“I’m not sick. Plus, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Brad never missed work, and this could not be a good thing. Him being here with me in my apartment and not working? If Charles found out, my job would be as good as gone.

“I’m fine. My job will be there tomorrow and the day after that if it takes you longer to get well.”

His back was turned to me, and I realized he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. Trying not to drool, I stared at the expanse of his broad shoulders and the muscles on his back. My mouth felt dry, and for the first time ever, I wondered how he looked without his shirt on.

I groaned and threw one arm over my eyes. “Why are you doing this, Brad?”

And why am I doing this? Wasn’t I stronger than this?

It was silent for a beat before he said, “Because I like you.” The words were spoken softly while he stirred the ladle in the pot.

Okay. Great. I didn’t know what to do with that.

“Yeah, but still, I really don’t think you need to be taking care of me when I can take care of myself, and you have meetings all day.”

I knew his schedule. Once he missed a meeting, I’d have to reschedule it, which was a pain.

“I don’t think you understand …” His voice trailed off.

With my eyes closed, I could only hear him coming closer. When I lifted my arm, he was right in front of me, above me, and for the life of me, I couldn’t stop picturing him shirtless.

I gulped. Hormones. I was sure I was going to get my period soon. That had to be the reason.

“I don’t think you get it …” He smiled then, a small smile, subtle, sweet even. Then, he sat on the couch, scooting me back against the cushions. “I like you, Sonia.”

I lifted a brow. “Yeah. You have to. I work for you.”

He moved closer, and the way he was looking at me made my heart hammer in my chest.

What is happening here?





Brad

And here was the moment of truth. Where I laid everything out on the table. I had to admit I was scared shitless because she had no clue what I was going to tell her and also, if she didn’t feel the same, it would gut me. It wasn’t like I could blame her. I’d built a reputation and put her in a no-touch box for so long. Now, it’d be hard to change her mindset because that was all we were to each other. Employees. Acquaintances. But I was about to change all that.

I reached for her hand and caressed the top of her fist with my thumb as I swallowed. “I like you, Sonia. More than my secretary and more than a friend …”

Her eyebrows flew to her hairline. I couldn’t even finish my spiel that I had practiced in my head numerous times before I walked up to her door because she shot up to a sitting position, eyes wide, and moved as far away from me on the couch as humanly possible.

Fuck, did that burn!

“You can’t,” she spluttered. She rapidly blinked and pushed the hair out of her face. “I’m not even your type.”

I swallowed hard. “So, smart, witty, funny, and beautiful is not my type?” My chest concaved. I had known it would be hard to convince her of us, and I’d expected her to go on the defensive, but still, it hurt.

She looked at me like I was an alien being. “I’m not blonde, I’m not five-seven or taller, and I’m not a D cup. I’m not your type.” She was adamant, her voice rising with a certainty I didn’t feel.

I couldn’t deny what she was saying. I’d always dated the same type of girl, the Jean types.

I carefully chose my words, afraid I would scare her off. “I think about you constantly, Sonia, and ever since the wedding, it’s gotten worse.” I angled closer and pulled her right next to me. Her eyes went wild, and I used everything in my ability to calm her. “Listen. Don’t freak out. Just listen.” I cupped the side of her face, staring into her beautiful eyes that I’d known for years. “I couldn’t have predicted this. Me … you … falling for you.”

Her hand covered mine on the side of her face. “Brad …” Her breathing came in and out in short, broken puffs, and she eyed the door behind me.

I didn’t give her a chance to utter another word because I leaned in and met her lips with mine.

And it was explosive.

Better than the first time or the second or the third. She tasted like the finest wine, the sweetest chocolate, the most delectable cake.

I could kiss her for hours, and it would never, ever be enough. I’d always want more. Her hands moved down my chest, and she slowly shoved me away, eyes dazed and wondering and straight-up sexy.

“Tell me you didn’t feel that,” I whispered, our faces a breath apart.

Our connection was undeniable and electric, and there was no way she couldn’t feel that spark between us.

“I’m sorry.” She inched away and blinked up at me, bewildered. She scraped her hand through her hair. “I didn’t feel that.”

Wait? What!

This was not happening. I sat there, shocked and still and waiting for someone to come through the door and tell me that I’d been punked. But, of course, no one would walk through her door, and of course, I knew deep down that an incredible kiss would not win her over. This was a woman I had to wine and dine and cherish.