Sleeping with the Boss (Anderson Brothers, #1)(16)

“Wow,” she said, pulling away before she totally lost it and needed to call Will-aholics Anonymous. “Wow,” she repeated, placing her hands on his chest, which didn’t help because it was a firm wall of muscle begging to be explored, and at that moment, her hands were regular Lewis and Clarks ready to strike out on their own uncharted Anderson expedition. No. Be responsible, Claire. “Isn’t there a rule against this?”

“God, I hope not.”

“You’re my boss.”

Still leaning against the door, his brow furrowed. “I suppose that’s correct, technically. I’m an owner, but not your direct boss. And I work remotely. My being in the office is a fluke.” He ran his lips along her jaw with a featherlight touch that was no doubt leaving scorch marks. “Besides, you’re a temp. Surely company policy against fraternizing with employees doesn’t count.”

That was splitting hairs, but at this point, screw responsibility. She’d buy it wholesale.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

He pulled her back against him, and she sighed as her whole body hummed with pleasure. He took her earlobe between his teeth and scraped them along it, catching her as her knees buckled. Near miss. “Almost a Claire-ism,” she whispered, reveling in his tongue on her neck.

“Not even close.” He ran his hands down her back and cupped her bottom. “Are you wearing pink underwear again today?”

Her face grew hot. “Oh, great. You saw…”

Pulling the collar of her bathrobe aside, he kissed a sizzling trail across her throat. “You bet I did.”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.” She was so dizzy from his kisses, she wondered how she was still able to form coherent sentences.

He ran his big, warm hands up her body and around her rib cage. Then he lifted them to cup her breasts outside the robe. She moaned with pleasure as he nibbled her other earlobe and her nipples throbbed under his palms. “Why would that be embarrassing?”

She gasped as he stroked her breasts. What the hell had he asked her? Oh, yeah. Why his seeing her underwear was embarrassing. “Umm. Because I don’t really know you.”

“Well, we should fix that.” He flicked his thumbs across her nipples, and she gasped right before he took her mouth in another delicious kiss. And whoa, could he kiss. She pressed her body against his, needing more of him. He traced circles around her nipples until she thought she might scream.

“You like that.” His voice was husky and thick.

“Mmm-hmm.”

His lips tightened into a smile against her neck. “There’s something between us, and you feel it. I want more. So do you.”

Damn right she did. She wanted to explore his entire body to see if more than his mouth tasted like mint. Just the thought of it made her knees go weak.

“But now is not the time,” he said, putting her at arm’s length with a sigh.

Claire closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She’d just made out with her boss against the door of her apartment. Like, seriously made out with him complete with some grab-ass. This wasn’t just a Claire-ism, it was the mother of all Claire-isms lit up with neon lights and a disco ball. She’d never live this one down.

…

Will counted to ten and focused on the sound of his breathing until he was back under control. His attraction to this woman was intense, and he knew he had to back off—at least for now.

She pulled her robe tighter with awkward, nervous jerks. “Okay. Well, um, hi. Welcome to my home.” Her eyes flitted everywhere but his face. “It’s kind of messy right now.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” It unnerved him how attracted he was to her after only a short period of time. He knew he had to stay mindful that it was a potential land mine that could take him out.

“You want a drink or something?” She slid out of his arms and shifted from foot to foot waiting for his answer. Something was off.

“Sure.”

He leaned his head back against the door as she padded to a wet bar near the kitchen. The small apartment was furnished with eighteenth-and nineteenth-century American antiques—very fine ones. Egyptian decorative art was scattered among odd pieces of Americana on almost every surface, making the place look like an episode of Antiques Roadshow. Not what he’d expected at all.

She opened one cabinet, then another. “There’s scotch and bourbon, but that’s about it.”

“Scotch works.” As she continued to search the cabinets, eventually producing a highball glass, it dawned on him that this was not her apartment. She seemed familiar with it, but not comfortable. At least that was true of the bar area. Odd. According to Jim, the tax office had this apartment listed in her name, Clarisse Maddox.

Her hands shook as she poured a couple of fingers of scotch. It troubled him she was this anxious, especially after she was so at ease only minutes before. Well, not at ease, but far from nervous.

He crossed to the bar. “You okay, Claire?”

She set the bottle down and handed him the drink. “Yeah.” She gestured to a sitting area in the next room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to put on something…” She looked down at the sheer silk robe that hugged her curves in a way that made Will want to visit the door again. “Something different.”