Sleeping with the Boss (Anderson Brothers, #1)(15)

She strode to the door, catching the back of a chair for support as she slipped on the water from before.

Knock, knock, knock.

“I said, hold on!” She jerked the door open to find Will right outside with a smile on his face. Dang. Those dimples. Claire gritted her teeth. She was supposed to be mad.

All manner of pissy remarks about intruding on her privacy popped through her head, but just the sight of him made them wither. Instead of a pithy greeting, she just stood there, staring at the big, handsome man filling her doorway.

…

Will knew he shouldn’t have surprise-attacked her like that, but he wanted to see her. No. He had to see her and clear up the unfortunate occurrence at the restaurant. And then it dawned on him maybe she wasn’t alone. Shit. He looked past her into the apartment, but saw no signs of anyone else. “Did I interrupt something?”

“A bath.”

She looked fantastic in the bathrobe with her wet hair dripping on the floor. Delicious. He placed a hand on the doorframe and leaned closer. “Alone?” God, he hoped so.

“How was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“What do you want, Mr. Anderson?”

Well, there was some ice water in all the wrong places. The use of his formal name caused his stomach to churn. He’d overstepped the boundaries. “I wanted to talk to you. I told you I don’t date, and that’s true. You are the first woman I’ve asked out in over eight months. I just wanted you to know that.”

Completely flustered, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and looked over her shoulder into her apartment. “Well, you caught me at a really bad time.”

His brow furrowed. This was a nightmare. He’d interrupted…something. His chest filled with a concoction of guilt and jealousy—both volatile alone, but immobilizing together. “You’re not alone. I didn’t mean to…” God, what a f*ckup he was. Of course a beautiful woman like this wouldn’t be sitting home alone. He took a step back. “I’m really sorry. I’ll just talk to you tomorrow. Good night.”

He took off toward the elevator. He should never have done something this impulsive. He didn’t really even know why he had come here uninvited other than the moth-to-the-flame syndrome he’d acquired since meeting her—he just couldn’t keep his mind, or his body for that matter, away from her. He pushed the button and was relieved the car was still on the floor and the door slid open right away. He stepped inside, and his eyes met hers.

“Wait! Will, stop.”

He pushed his hand against the black plastic gasket inside the door and it stopped with a jerk, then slid back open. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t really blown it by coming here.

Clutching the front of her robe shut, she stood completely still. “Don’t go. You surprised me, that’s all. Please, come in.” She shrugged in a fragile, helpless sort of gesture. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

He stood there frozen a moment, processing her words. A flood of relief washed through him in addition to something else that bordered on pain right behind his sternum. She said she was glad he was there. When was the last time someone other than his family had said that? He stepped out into the hallway and the elevator slid shut silently behind him.

Something was happening between them. Something he felt, but couldn’t identify with words, that caused his insides to churn and his chest to ache.

“I’m alone,” she said, gesturing to the apartment.

He stopped within a foot of her. “So am I.” He’d never felt more alone in his life, and for some reason, this woman presented a lifeline—the first one he’d had since Afghanistan.

“We both are,” she said so softly he barely heard it. But he felt it. All the way down into his soul, he felt it.

After following her into the apartment, he leaned against the closed door, and to his surprise, she reached out and touched him. He held his breath as she ran her fingers across his jawline and then traced his lips. He needed this so badly. Not just to be touched, but to be touched by her.

Entwining his fingers through hers, he met her heated gaze. Shit. This was not what he’d intended when he came in here, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. She remained just far enough away to not touch him anywhere, but she made no move to free her hand.

Will fought the urge to pull her against him and kiss her. She stepped all the way in so that her feet were between his and her body pressed fully against him. She felt so good. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to rush her, to give in to his body’s demands and run his hands all over her small, curvy body.

Instead, he gave in to what his own body had been screaming for him to do since he met her in that elevator. He wrapped an arm around her waist and placed the other on the back of her neck as he pulled her in closer. So close, he could see the gold flecks in her eyes that matched her hair. Sunshine. Warm, bright, promising. What does sunshine taste like?

And then she kissed him.

…

Claire held her breath as she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his—such soft lips, which was unexpected in light of his strong jaw and chiseled features. Gently at first, then more insistent, he slanted his mouth over hers, coaxing her to open to him. Her heart kicked into hyperdrive when he took her bottom lip between his teeth and released it. Gasping, she savored his minty smell and ran her hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders. She’d never been kissed like this. It was as if they had all the time in the world as their tongues danced together, causing chills to shoot up and down her spine. She needed more. Moaning in the back of her throat, she pressed harder against his body, eliciting a deep groan from him that made her dizzy—one step short of crazy. The hard press of his erection against her belly made her want to climb him like a jungle gym and lick him from head to toe. Never had a man moved her this way. He was like an addictive drug, which, considering the fact that she was leaving the country soon, was not a good thing.