Page 48 of Bossy Wicked Prince
There’s only one thing he can mean by that, right? He’s going to kiss me again—and this time, there’s no reason for him to stop. My breath grows short and fast as a hot ache spreads from my low belly down between my thighs.
This is so wrong. He’s myboss. We’re still wearing the clothes from that disastrous meeting. Hell, we’re standing in a hotel suite that I booked as hisassistantAs much as I want to jump into his arms, wrap my legs around him and relieve the pressure between my legs, I can’t go there.
Nate reaches forward, setting his fingertips at the side of my neck. He rubs light circles against the sensitive skin there, and itfeels so fucking good. I take a shaky breath, and his eyes drop to my chest’s rapid rise.We shouldn’t.
Ishouldn’t.
But I’d rather throw myself from the top floor of this building than ask him to stop. I want him so badly, it clouds all my rational thoughts and judgments.
He drags his hand back up my arm, and the light touch makes goosebumps rise on my skin. “You deserve respect,” he says, his voice low and rough. “You’re deserveeverything.”
His praise sends hot currents of desire through my veins. My entire body is kindling, and one compliment from Nate is the spark that’s going to set me aflame.
My hand trembles as I reach for his suit lapel. The expensive wool fabric feels both soft and coarse against my fingers. I have to touch him—I can’tnottouch him—and this is the closest I can get before I end up somewhere dangerous.
Nate leans forward so his forehead’s touching mine. “If…if you want me to stop, just nod, and I will.”
I squeeze his lapel tighter. I should do it. I should nod my head and go back to my room for a long, cold shower. My mind whirls with all the reasons this is a bad idea. It could mess with our professional relationship, putting my job at risk. Even if I quit, he lives in the same building as Terrace—I’d see him all the time. I can hear Pippa’s warnings echoing in my head.
He goes through women like Kleenex.
Unless you’re into getting railed in a luxury bed…
Would that really be so bad? I don’t want a relationship either. Maybe I could be the sort of girl who’s alright with something that’s just physical. After all, I haven’t been with a man in months. And the last guy was so underwhelming, I had to finish myself off afterward every time.
Something tells me, I won’t need to do that with Nate. No, my intuition promises that Nate won’t leave me wanting…and I want to find out if it’s right.
Nate’s gray eyes flicker down to my lips. Instinctively, my tongue darts out to wet them, and his pupils expand in the darkness.
He pulls his hand away from my arm, tightening it into a fist. His lips tighten into a firm line, and he takes a full step back. I can feel the distance between us instantly, like a spell has been broken.
He’s changed his mind.
What did I do to make him reject me already?
A disappointed whimper escapes my mouth before I can stop it. God, how humiliating. He must think I’m pathetic and desperate for him. Which, honestly, I am. I’m practically salivating for him at this point.
Maybe it wasn’t enough for me to just let him touch me. Maybe he wants me to ask for it.
“Please,” I whisper. It’s about as articulate as I can be right now.
Nate hesitates, and tears prick at my eyes. Embarrassment, disappointment, and frustration battle for prominence in my head.
“Fuck it,” he groans. He charges toward me, grabbing me by the waist and hauling my body against his.
He kisses me, and it feels like he’s branding me. There’s nothing gentle about how he parts my lips with his tongue or how he tastes me. He’s claiming me. No matter who else I kiss, I’ll think back to right now and know it wasn’t as passionate as this.
It’s a kiss that sets every nerve on fire while simultaneously making my panties drenched. I wrap my arms around his neck,arching my back so I can press my breasts and stomach against him. He feels so goddamn good against me.
He tears his lips away from mine and flips me so the front of my body is pressed against the glass. It feels frigid against my cheek and hands. Nate yanks down the right shoulder strap of my dress, kissing a hot path from my shoulder up to my neck. His kisses are slow, masterful, claiming. He’s got one hand in my hair holding my head against the pane, the other grabbing the lower hem of my dress.
Directly ahead, I can see Central Park’s dark trees. But if I look to the side, I see other high-rise buildings. Close enough that I could look through the windows. My muscles tense up, even as slickness gathers in my panties.
“Someone could see us,” I gasp.
Nate grinds his hips against my backside and I can feel his rock-hard length through my clothes, pressing against me.
“Let them watch,” he growls, his mouth finding the hinge of my jaw as his palm presses flat to my sternum, feeling the frantic drum of my heart.
