Page 21 of Bossing My Holiday
Waverly’s mini panic attack seems to be under control. The flight attendant gave her water, champagne, and some warm nuts, and she nibbled and drank and stared out the window as the plane went through its checks, roared down the runway, and lifted us into the sky.
But something happened during that time. Something… unexpected.
I realized the extent of the position I put her in. One she doesn’t want to be in, and my guilt hits me hard.
“I should call this off,” I murmur to Braxton.
“You shouldn’t. She’s fine.”
“I’m essentially blackmailing her to be my girlfriend.”
“Did you give her the option to say no?”
I move my gaze away from the back of Waverly’s head to scowl at my friend, who is sitting across from me in my cabin. “Of course I did. I’m not a monster. Just an asshole.”
“And if she said no, would it have affected her job?”
I glare. It’s not a kind glare either.
“Then chill out. She said yes. It’s her first flight, and she’straveling to Paris and spending time with her bosses while pretending to be your girlfriend. It’s a lot. Give her space to work it through.”
I nod and return to her. The sky outside the window is dark, the city sprawling beneath us as we climb higher into the air, and Waverly is glued to it like a little kid. It sends the oddest sensation through me. It makes me want to show her the world just so I can watch how she experiences it.
“I’m going to have trouble,” Brax admits in a low voice. He’s lounging in the recliner and sipping a scotch with his legs kicked up. It’s getting late, and we’ll need to go to bed soon. Waverly is now eating the first-class meal she was just handed like it’s the best thing she’s ever had and is on her third glass of champagne, and I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I want to crawl in bed with her and hold her all fucking night and kiss her like no one has ever kissed her before.
I’ve never allowed myself to think about what kissing Waverly would feel like, but now that she’s my fake girlfriend and I felt the soft skin of her cheek beneath my lips, it’s all I can think about.
“I know,” is all I can say, staring down at my vodka and finishing it off because I don’t want to think any more about kissing Waverly. Or what her body would feel like against mine. Beneath mine. Above mine. Fuck!
“We’re in your apartment,” he says and lets that end with a meaningful look.
“They won’t let her share that with us.”
He smirks. “Oh yes, they will. Your grandmother and mother have plans for you now.”
Shit. “No, they won’t. They just won’t. Regardless, I can’t…”
“I can.”
I shake my head. “No.Wecan’t. She wouldn’t want that with us. Not both of us. And then what do we do when we come back home?”
The thought of Waverly getting spooked because we’re two men with very particular tastes in bed who enjoy sharing the same woman isn’t for everyone. I wasn’t lying when I told him I can’t lose her, but the more I look at her, the more I’m starting to question if that goes beyond work.
If it always did.
I’ve been watching her and telling myself it’s because I have more questions than answers. All week I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, and it started when I realized how long she’s been silently dealing with all of this. That realization kept me up half the night, and I still can’t fully figure out why. All of this bothers me on a different level than I expected.
I feel… oddly protective of her.
Like in the airport when she was panicking. It was… endearing. Sweet almost, though I can’t imagine it was for her. It made me feel like her hero that I got it to stop.
I’m probably only feeling this way because she’s been my right hand for the last two years when no one else has made it longer than a couple of months. But her secret makes me feel like I failed her in some way, and it’s been bothering me on a level I’m unaccustomed to. Her problems are her own, and I shouldn’t give a shit.
But I do.
The more I get to know and see this side of Waverly, the more I want.
“Why would it have to stop?”
