Page 63 of Unlocking my Boss's Heart

I raised my eyebrows. “Celia? I thought you said only people important to Dad—”

“If she’s important to you, then she’s important to the rest of the family, too. She is important to you, isn’t she?”

“Yes. But I’m not sure she would accept the invitation.” I couldn’t help but think of Celia’s insistence that we keep things professional between us. That was a month ago.

“Ask her anyway. She might surprise you by saying yes. I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind.”

I was about to ask why my father would want to see Celia, but my mother walked away with an air of finality.

The next day, Celia entered my office to borrow a law book from my shelf. While she rummaged through the shelf, I pretended to be engrossed in my own case, but was observing her.

She was wearing an olive-green, knee-length pencil skirt, her pale-yellow blouse tucked in at the hip, and a fine belt showcasing a narrower waist. Her almost non-existent heels revealed delicate ankles. How did she get legs as sexy as that? She looked beautiful standing by the bookshelves like that. Seeing her there reminded me of our first kiss in my library. What was it about this woman that made me want all of her?

She almost dropped a book and caught it just in time, snapping me back to the present. I was supposed to invite her to join my family for dinner. It took me a split second to recover from my reaction to seeing her.

“Hey, wait a second.” I got up and went to meet her as she was leaving.

Celia stopped, her doe eyes landing on me, sending shocks of desire through me. The last few weeks had been torturous, unable to talk to her like we used to, unable to hold her in my arms, feel her breath catch as I leaned in to kiss her impossibly soft lips.

“Yes?” she asked when I didn’t continue.

There was longing in her eyes, mirroring my own.

I reached for her hand. “My mother asked me to extend an invitation to you for a celebratory dinner for my father’s recovery at their home tomorrow.”

Her eyes flashed with surprise, then disappointment. “Your mother wants me to come? Not you?” She quickly hid her disappointment, but I still caught it.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I want you to come, too.” This was frustrating. I thought mentioning my mother would convince her that I was respecting the boundaries she’d set. But I wanted her. I missed her.

Her expression didn’t change. “Tomorrow? Well, I can’t…I….”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, Celia. What important things do you have going on?”

“I could go out with friends, on dates, and so on. What a thing to say!” She took offense and hurried for the door.

I gently grabbed her arm, and the book fell with athunkon the floor. “Celia….”

The next thing I knew, my mouth was on hers, and I found myself lost in a passionate kiss, unable to hold back. It felt as though I had been wandering a barren desert for days, parched and weary, and had finally stumbled upon a life-saving oasis.

Every fiber of my being craved this connection, this moment of intense intimacy. She let out small noises that heightened my senses to the point of being overwhelmed. All of her was enticing—her uniqueness, her scent, and the warmth of her body—all consumed me. I pressed her even closer to me. It was as if all the longing and desire I had ever felt culminated in this single, electrifying kiss.

I savor every second, feeling an indescribable thirst being quenched. The world around us faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in this profound, shared experience. This kiss wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline, a moment of pure, unadulterated connection that left me breathless and yearning for more. I lifted my head, kissed the area below her ear, and then her neck, inching my way to her collarbone. She extended her neck, her little fingers driving me mad as she stroked my scalp in a continuous motion.

“Mr. Waltons?” The intercom on my desk buzzed with Olivia’s voice.

I stopped.

Taking Celia's hand, I walked back to the desk with her. Without letting go of her hand, I pressed the answering button. “Yes, Olivia?”

“This is the reminder you asked for before I leave for the day.”

“Ha, yes, thank you. Have a good weekend.”

“You, too, Mr. Waltons.”

I hung up and half-sat on my desk, pulling Celia in front of me. She avoided my gaze. I held back a smile—she was shy. I hugged her, and she rested her head in the crook of my shoulder.

After a while, I asked, “Are you alright?”

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