Page 54 of Screwged for Christmas

“Are you done stroking my sweater, Ms. Kendall?”

I jerk my hands back, cringing. “Sorry.” I know my face shows my shock but he only chuckles. A deep rumbling sound that has me wondering what it would feel like if he did that against my clit.

I shoulder my bag, heavy with a few books I picked up from the library that morning. He reaches for the straps and effortlessly takes the burden of my bag.

“Let me help. What did you do? Knock off a bookstore,” he teases glancing behind him briefly.

“Ha, ha. I wish I could fit a few more in there but the owner got wise,” I toss back with a wicked grin.

“Then we better get a move on before they catch us.”

Seeing his eyes light up with mirth and the shadows from his dark eyes recede has my heart beating faster.

“We have a lot to talk about before this evening anyway.”

My brows arch. “Oh?”

He opens the car door, stepping back enough for me to pass in front of him but I pause, a hand on the top of the door right alongside his.

“What’s tonight?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

For the first time since I’ve known Logan, he doesn’t have a readily available answer.

“Let’s get you warm first. Then we can talk when we’re alone.”

Snow flurries cling to his shoulders and one brushes against his cheek only to fix itself to his beard. I reach up and flick it away with the back of my knuckles, unthinking.

His sharp eyes land on mine and he considers me for a moment sliding a hand down my arm to my elbow.

“Please.” The one word mixed with his touch has my body reacting as though my arm is bare and the warmth of his hand is against my skin. Heat flashes through my whole body and it’s completely apparent he could control my body with a single touch. God, how weak does that make me?

No way denying the tingles erupting and traveling to every cell in my body so it has to be true.

He guides me inside and I catch him drinking in the way my skirt rides high on my thigh. I scoot across the leather seat as much as I can, which isn’t too far. There are enough presents stacked Jenga style to fill two cars. One slip of a precariously placed package and we’ll drown under all the glitter paper and sparkly bows.

“It looks like you've had a very busy day, Mr. Sterling,” I say as Logan slides in beside me, making it a tight fit between a massive box that takes up almost half of the wide back seat and the wall of muscle suddenly pressing against me.

He’s a magnet and I’m drawn to him uncontrollably. His warmth is soothing and I find myself sinking into it with no real conscious decision to do so.

I close my thighs and the pressure against my clit has me sucking in a quick gasp of air.

Oh, boy.

“Are you okay? Maybe if I move my arm up, you'll have a little more room.”

My boss raises his arm over the back of the seat and I slide into the empty space like my body was made to fit against his.

I’m not wrong about my magnet theory after all.

I’m not complaining, but maybe my mind is getting the best of me.

I don’t want to say what I’m thinking, so I seal my lips. But a part of me wants to take Noella’s advice and just blurt out how I feel already. And see where all the chips fall once the shock wears off. But I can’t risk getting fired.

Currents of warm air filter through the wall of packages surrounding us and I focus my attention on that. And the exquisite scent of his cologne. Masculine, clean, and if power had a scent, I’d say it smelled one hundred percent like Logan.

I feel the car pull out into traffic and a quick swerve throws me deeper into his arms and I bury my hands in his sweater, for purchase. His arm is around me, holding me close and when I raise my eyes to his I don’t think about him being my boss or how I should do this or that.

Our eyes stay locked for a long moment.

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