Page 101 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

I escape to the deck, needing a moment of quiet to process how my carefully ordered life has transformed into this beautiful chaos. The mountain air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and fresh snow.

"Hiding from the revolution?" Mac's voice behind me carries amusement. She steps closer, and suddenly the cold doesn't matter because she smells like vanilla and wine and everything right in my world.

"Strategic retreat," I correct, pulling her into my arms. "Though I'm concerned about Keith teaching Grayson's security team that damn 'Equity Electric Slide.'"

"Could be worse." She settles against my chest, fitting perfectly like she was designed for this space. "He wanted to perform an interpretive dance about our love story. Complete with champagne props."

"Speaking of our love story..." I trail kisses down her neck, enjoying how she shivers. "I haven't had you alone since Christmas morning."

"We've been busy." But her breath catches as I find that spot behind her ear. "Running a revolution takes time."

"I miss you."

"I'm right here."

"Not like this." I turn her to face me, suddenly desperate to touch, to taste, to remind myself that this brilliant, impossible woman is really mine. "Not alone. Not where I can show you exactly how much I've missed you."

Her eyes darken. "Alex..."

"The boathouse," I murmur against her mouth. "Ten minutes. I'll make excuses."

"What about?—"

"They're distracted by pasta and revolution." I steal one more kiss that quickly becomes several more. "Ten minutes."

She slips away first, disappearing inside with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. I count to thirty before following, making a show of checking my phone like I'm handling business.

"Conference call," I announce to no one in particular. "Board members in Singapore."

"On New Year's Eve?" Grayson looks skeptical.

"International markets never sleep."

"Neither does love!" Keith declares, launching into what sounds like a latin remix of "Auld Lang Syne."

I escape again, this time toward the path to the boathouse. The snow falls thicker now, muffling my footsteps as I make my way down the lit path.

The boathouse sits dark and quiet at the end of the dock, but I know she's there. Can feel her presence like gravity.

"Took you long enough," Mac's voice carries from the shadows as I close the door. "Some of us are freezing our revolutionary assets off."

"Allow me to help with that." I find her in the darkness, backing her against the wall. "Though I have to say, cold is a good look on you."

"Everything's a good look on me." But her voice catches as my hands find skin under her sweater. "Even marinara sauce, apparently."

"Especially marinara sauce." I capture her mouth, swallowing her laugh. "Though I prefer you without any sauce. Or clothes."

"Smooth talker."

"Corporate negotiation skills."

She pulls me closer, and suddenly everything else fades away - the party, the revolution, everything except the way she feels against me.

My hands find her waist, her hips, her curves that fit so perfectly against me.

"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear. "I've been dying to touch you all day."

She gasps as I trail kisses down her neck, my hands sliding under her sweater, finding the soft skin of her stomach. I can feel her heart racing, her breath hitching as I explore every inch of her.