Page 6 of His Curvy Obsession

Rebecca

Eric is gonefor what feels like a long time. My mind is racing. And the glasses of wine that I had downstairs at the party isn’t helping with my paranoid thinking.

What’s taking Eric so long? What’s he doing?

Maybe Eric is going to kill that guy and that’s why it’s taking so long. He’s hiding the body.

I try to shake the thought from my mind. I know it’s a ridiculous supposition…but then, I’ve never seen Eric look so angry before.

Never seen him use his body in that way, in a physical altercation. His eyes were blazing with unfiltered hatred and disgust when he looked at Larry.

Violence is surprising from a man like Eric, my ordinarily calm and collected boss of seven years. Eric is a brainiac, an egghead, with his nose in books constantly.

But the way he took that man down, overpowered him and wrestled him to the ground, and then dictated an apology while holding him up to me like a weightless puppet…

I squeeze my thighs together, shifting atop the leather couch in Eric’s office.

What the hell? Am I actually turned on right now?

A man trapped and attacked me less than half an hour ago!

Yeah…and then adifferentman came to my rescue.

A man who happens to be my boss. A man who, prior to tonight, had never deviated from his emotionless, monotone, all-business attitude long enough to even crack a joke, much less exhibit the kind of uncontrolled fury that he showed just now.

Yeah. Maybe Iamturned on right now.

Or…maybe I’m just drunk, emotionally overwhelmed, and need to get the hell out of here before I embarrass myself even more than I already have.

I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s been almost forty-five minutes since Eric took Larry downstairs. Standing, I exit Eric’s office and walk to the elevator. Just when I’m about to press the button, the brass double doors part and Eric steps out, a serious expression on his face. The fire behind his eyes has calmed slightly, not quite the out-of-control bonfire from before, but still a roaring flame.

“I told you to stay and wait for me,” he says, his jaw clenched.

“You were gone for a long time,” I say. “I thought you forgot.”

Eric looks at me closely, his brow furrowed. He’s close enough to me right now that I can see every individual jet black eyelash framing his hazel eyes. Why have I never noticed how beautiful his eyes are before? Have I really worked with him for this long and never noticed?

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple rising and falling, taking me in from head to toe. I shift beneath his gaze. I can’t decide if I feel turned on, fearful, or both.

“How many drinks have you had?” he finally asks.

“I’m not sure,” I confess. “Not too many, though.”

“Enough to impair your speech,” he replies. “You’re slurring.”

“I am?” I ask, paying attention to the way my tongue feels as I articulate the words.

If I’m slurring my speech, I can’t tell. Sure, I had a few drinks tonight, but not nearly enough to be drunkenly slurring my words. I’m not stupid; I know how to handle my alcohol, especially at a professional event.

Suddenly, I remember my doctor’s words earlier this week as she prescribed me a new medication:Don’t drink alcohol while you’re taking this.

Shit. I forgot. No wonder it feels like the floor is spinning. It’s not the alcohol to blame, it’s the alcohol interacting with the medicine! Maybe that’s also why tonight I’m finding my grouchy and antisocial boss so incredibly attractive. Because there’s no way that my body would be responding to him if I was sober.

Absolutely no way.

Right?

“Yes,” Eric says flatly. “You’re slurring. And you seem off balance, like you’re going to fall down. You shouldn’t drink so much, especially at an office event. You represent me and my department at Stone Enterprises when you show up to these functions. If you can’t behave, then don’t attend them at all.”

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