Page 101 of Boss of the Year
I found myself unable to say exactly what I meant. Had I actually imagined sex with Daniel? Really imagined it, in a visceral way that actually included real body parts?
Maybe.
But not really.
I thought back to the night before I left for Paris.
The night I’d burrowed into Daniel’s closet while being forced to listen to the man of my dreams fucking another woman in a way that wasn’t exactly romantic. Or passionate.
It was funny. I hadn’t thought about that night in a very long time other than to remember my horror.
But now, I remembered the woman hadlikedwhat he was doing to her.
Maybe?
I didn’t think she’d orgasmed, although the noises she was making hadn’t sounded like anything I’d ever heard from another human. But what did I know?
Daniel had definitely finished.
All I knew was that after that, my fantasies about Daniel changed, somehow. They’d moved to the realm of love and romance only. Whispering sweet nothings. Smiles and flowers and hearts and weddings.
Maybe a tempered kiss here and there.
But nothing about the body.
Certainly nothing about mine.
Lucas, however, had kissed me twice, touched me a few other times, and the memory of those few moments set my skin alight with anticipation.
I hadn’t shut out those memories. Rather, I cradled them like precious jewels. Pulled them out in the dark of night when I couldn’t sleep. Yearned for more, though I still hadn’t articulated that to myself.
And yes, I’d touched myself thinking about them.
More than once, actually.
“I don’t know,” I finally said. “I don’t think about Daniel that way like I used to. Really…not at all. Not anymore.”
Somehow, Lucas and I were closer than we’d been all week. During our conversation, we’d both inched along the stone bench until only a few feet of water separated us. I could see the droplets on his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath.
Without thinking, I reached out with one hand and wiped a drop of water from his mouth Those curiously full lips, so masculine, yet soft on a face that was otherwise carved from stone.
Lucas froze under my touch, then shuddered as my thumb drew down to his chin, then along the strong line of his jaw.
“Marie,” he breathed. “What are you doing?”
“Feeling brave,” I said softly, knowing it was the truth.
I couldn’t say why. It didn’t make sense.
He was my boss. Fifteen, almost sixteen years older than me. Impossibly rich, more powerful, the kind of man who could squish me and all my family members like bugs if he so wanted.
But I didn’t see any of those things in this pool. Right now, Lucas was just a man, and I was just a woman, tripped to our skins in this beautiful place, naked with our bodies and our minds.
And in the spirit of genuine honesty, there was only one thing I wanted to do.
“I do think about it,” I said again. “I think about it with you.”
My hand continued its exploration below his ear, learning the texture of his stubble stubble grewn through the day, the exact pattern of the muscles in his neck and jaw, the architecture of his bones. Then I moved down across his clavicle and to his sternum, where, with a deep breath, I slid it under the water.
