by Emma Hart
“Stop it. I’ll bring you food. Clearly, that’s the way to your heart.”
“Uh-huh. Food and orgasms.”
“Luckily for you, I’m good at giving both. See you later.”
The bastard hung up, mostly because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the last word on that. That didn’t mean I wasn’t a: blushing, and b: going to pull out one of my rare good-flirt cards and text him.
Me: If you give me good food, I might just let you give me what you call a good orgasm… And then I’ll let you know.
***
“That is the worst reason to murder someone. It’s so obvious.” Cameron put some popcorn into his mouth. “Life insurance? Really?”
“That was three million dollars!” I pointed at the screen. “I’d murder someone for three million dollars!”
He turned to me, one eyebrow raised. “Should I be worried?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m going to divorce you for screwing the nanny, take all your money, then murder you and get your life insurance policy. Bingo. I’m set for three lifetimes.”
“From other people, that might scare me, but the only thing you can murder is carbohydrates.”
“Maybe I’ll kill you with them.”
“Impossible.” He trailed his finger up and down my arm. “You can’t kill someone with carbs. It’s like killing them with kindness. You might get a stomachache, but they won’t actually die.”
I sighed and leaned back into him. “Shame. I’ve tried to kill a few people with kindness.”
“Really? You?”
“Do you want me to kick you out of my bed?”
“Technically, I’m on it, not in it.”
“Only because Aunt Grace made you swear on the bible you wouldn’t get in bed with me,” I reminded him. “And I’ve seen you trying to creep under there.”
He grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Yeah, but that’s where your ass is. And where I can give you an orgasm.”
I looked at my foot, then at him. “Seriously? I have frozen sweetcorn on my ankle. Is that hot to you?”
“I thought it was peas.”
“I’m working my way through the frozen vegetable aisle. And what?”
“Nothing.” His lips twitched, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hide a laugh. “No, frozen vegetables are not remotely attractive.”
“Good, because I’ve had enough of this today. Can you take it off?”
He handed me the popcorn and removed his arm from around me to grab it. “What am I supposed to do with this?” He held the bag by the corner. “Re-freeze it?”
“Re-freeze it? No, you donut. You can’t refreeze things. It’s bad for you!”
“You’re not eating this, Hurricane. You’re using it so you can get back on your feet and stop annoying everyone.” He grinned.
“You’re starting to annoy me.”
“Easy fix.” He got up and tossed it in the trashcan to join the peas.
“What? Are you going to be quiet now so I can watch another episode of this show?” I grabbed the controller, but he was quicker than me, even making sure to mind my ankle.
He slipped back into place next to me, sliding one arm around me and tilting his body so that it mostly covered mine. His large hand framed my face, but it was his lips touching mine that proved his point.
My fingers loosened until the controller dropped, and I sank my fingers into his hair, letting him prove whatever point he was trying to make. It felt like it’d been forever since he’d kissed me in his office, and I guess it had. Almost an entire week.
Why did that feel like an eternity?
This was spontaneous, intense—utterly thrilling. Shivers covered my entire body, and each stroke of his tongue against mine set me on fire.
For a second, I almost forgot how much my ankle hurt, how frustrated I was to be lying here resting, how badly I wanted to eat the rest of the pizza in the box on the desk.
There was just Cameron. Just his fingers winding in my hair, his lips moving over mine, his body hot and hard beneath the t-shirt that covered his abs.
Just the steady, thumping beat of my heart as he took expert control of my body without barely touching me at all.
I fell into it. Let it happen. It was just a kiss, but it was a kiss that meant so much. It was the kiss that crossed the line, well and truly, between co-workers and lovers.
It was the one that made me realize… Maybe I didn’t care.
Maybe I didn’t actually give a crap that he was my boss. I knew that anyway, but now, as he kissed me, I realized that the maybe wasn’t such a maybe.
His kiss gave me life, and it felt so damn good that I didn’t care about anything. I just wanted to keep kissing him until I either couldn’t anymore or I passed out.
Slowly, much to my chagrin, he pulled away, keeping his hand curled around the back of my neck. “Still annoyed?”
I shook my head, releasing my hold of his hair. My fingers trailed down the side of his neck, and I curved them so they ran along the stubble that coated his jaw. It was coarse and rough, tickling across my fingertips.
His lips pulled to one side as I did it, and I found that mine did the same.
“I have an idea,” he said in a quiet voice. “How about we have another date when you’re able to walk? A proper one, with food, indoors, and serial killers?”
“Sounds like we’re having one right now,” I whispered back, leaning forward to kiss him again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO – MALLORY
“Good afternoon, you’ve reached Cameron’s Reid’s office at Reid Real Estate. Mallory speaking, how can I help you?” I held the phone to my ear and typed at the computer.
It was two days since Cameron had kissed the hell out of me in my room. Two days in which he’d visited me after work, brought me food, watched serial killer documentaries with me, and kissed me breathless before he’d left.
Now, I was able to put a little weight back on my ankle, and I’d insisted on coming into the office because I was getting a severe case of cabin fever. Not to mention there was only so many more times I could hear Aunt Grace tell me about her days as an acrobat while complaining about mom’s “stupid little poofy dog.”
So, Cameron and I had compromised. Meaning I now had a footstool beneath my desk which, actually, wasn’t so bad.
Quite comfortable.
“All right, thank you very much, and we’ll see you next week, sir.” I hung up right as fingers brushed across the back of my neck. A shiver shot down my spine as Cameron kissed the side of my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing your neck,” he murmured, doing it again. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, I’m working.” I squirmed beneath his touch, even though I liked it. “I have to put this appointment on the calendar before I forget, and you miss it.”
He sighed and stood up. “Well, that ruins my hot way of asking you for a date tonight, doesn’t it?”
“Really? Sneaking up behind me when I’m on the phone is your way of asking me out?”
“I think we’ve made it past the part where I ask you and more where I tell you.”
“Tell me, huh?” I saved the entry into the calendar and spun in my chair so I could face him. “You don’t tell me a thing, mister.”
I got up and walked to the kitchen.
Walked was a vague term.
I hobbled.
“If you’re trying to get away from me, you really need to rest that foot for at least another day,” Cameron said, following me in there. “Otherwise, you’re hobbling around like a one-legged leprechaun looking for gold.”
“I have two legs, thank you.”
“I have noticed.”
“Are you here to work, or just flirt with me?”
“Hey, it’s the first time in three days you’ve been in the office. Do you know how quiet it is without you when you’re not here?”
“No,” I said slowly, hitting the button for the coffee machine. “But I imagine there is
n’t coffee spilled everywhere.”
Cameron hesitated. “I may have knocked over my cup yesterday.”
I gasped, turning around to face him. “You!”
He grinned, quickly closing the distance between us and pinning me to the counter. “I didn’t. I just knew you’d turn around.”
I glared. “Don’t annoy me.”
“Oh, come on.” He leaned right in and brushed his lips over the corner of my mouth, eliciting a shiver from me despite my protestations.
“You aren’t playing fair. You know what happens when you do that.” I pushed at this chest.
“Mmhmm. You don’t get annoyed with me.” He dragged his lips over my jaw and down to my neck. “You forget I was ever getting on your nerves.”
Yes, but—
“Not fair,” I whined, sliding my hands down his chest. “Why were you getting on my nerves?”
“Ha, bingo!” He stepped back and gripped the counter, still keeping me in place. “See, you’ve forgotten everything.”
I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. “No, I haven’t. You were kissing me when I was trying to work. Then you kept on distracting me, and all I wanted to do was work…”
“Yeah? If I come to you right now, are you gonna push me away?”
“I didn’t say that.” I couldn’t help how my lips curve. “But wasn’t there something about a date when I could walk again?”
Cameron paused at that. “I said that at your house, right? Before I kissed you and wanted to do a hell of a lot more.”
“You could have ended that with “at your house, right?”” I raised my eyebrows and pulled the first mug from beneath the coffee machine and made it the way he liked it, then handed it to him.
He smiled as he took it. “I could have, but I decided not to.”
“Clearly.” I put my mug under the machine and hit the button before I turned again. “But, yes, then. You owe me a date and, like, a pound of chocolate for the pain you’ve put me through.”
“Yeah, it’s all my fault. I know.” He laughed and nodded toward the machine. “Your coffee is done.”
“Can you finish it for me? My foot hurts.” I pulled out a chair at the little table in the center of it to make my point.
“Are you all right?” He glanced at my foot before putting down his mug and moving to finish mine.
“Sore. It’s the first day I’ve really been using it a lot.”
He stopped in front of the coffee machine, and I made my move.
I trapped him against the counter the way he’d caught me, except I was pressed against his back, not his front.
Shit. There was a flaw in my plan.
“What are you doing?” Amusement was rife in his tone.
“Trapping you,” I replied, deflated.
“It didn’t work, Hurricane.”
“I know that.” With a sigh, I stepped back and dropped my hands. Damn it. I wasn’t exactly the best seduction move I’d ever pulled. Then again, I wasn’t good at any kind of seduction, so what was I doing?
Making a fool of myself.
That’s what I was doing.
Story of my life.
Cameron turned around and looked at me, leaning against the cabinet. His half-smile was super sexy, and I knew exactly what he was doing.
He was letting me trap him.
Putting on my best strut—which was about as sexy as a baby llama—I walked toward him and, well, let’s be honest. I didn’t trap him. I more flung myself onto him and lifted my sore ankle off the ground while I slumped against him.
“Ah. So sexy,” he remarked, lips against the top of my head.
“My foot hurts,” I muttered into his arm.
“Then sit down, woman.” He hugged me for a second before depositing me on a chair. “Rest your damn ankle. Stop being superwoman.”
“I can’t help it. I don’t like to be babied.”
“You were fine when I was bringing you food.”
“Well, yeah.” I met his eyes as he handed me my coffee. “You were feeding me, and you let me touch your abs. That’s a kind of babying I can get on board with.”
He half-smiled. “How about I bring you coffee and you touch my abs?”
“It’s not food, but it’s not bad. I can’t sit here, though, in case my phone rings.”
“I can answer the phone.”
“Even if it’s Cynthia Carlton?”
He hesitated. “Let’s get you back to your desk.” He hauled me out of the chair and helped me back to the desk.
I rolled my eyes. I could walk, it just hurt a little. Then again, I already knew about his hero complex, so I let him have his moment. As long as he never, ever picked me up again.
There was something disconcerting about it.
I slid into my chair right as the phone rang again. I answered, then winced at the voice on the end. It was Cynthia Carlton, and even Cameron could hear her through the speaker.
Slowly, he backed toward the kitchen, ready to get our coffees instead.
“No, he’s available,” I said brightly, grinning at him. “Let me put you on hold, and I’ll patch you through.”
“Thank you, darling!”
I put her on hold and grinned, stretching my arm out. “It’s for youuuuu.”
“Note to self,” he muttered as he approached me. “Don’t play dirty at work.”
***
“I have to say that I’m proud of you,” Cameron said, handing me a glass of wine.
“You are?” I looked up from my spot on the sofa. “Why?”
He sat down and gently rested my sore foot on his lap. “You couldn’t walk and you didn’t mess anything up.”
“Yeah, I think it’s because I have to be careful. Also, finding out your mother is a closet klutz might have inspired something inside me.”
“Number one on things not to say to a guy you’re dating.” He slid his gaze to me. “I assume we’ve moved past the “It’s just one date,” line by now?”
“Have we had more than one date?”
“We’ve had two.”
I leaned over and put my wine on the coffee table. “Technically, we’ve had several.”
He frowned, resting one arm over the back of the sofa. “How have we had several?”
I started counting them off on my fingers. “You could count the mixer as one. Dinner as another. Technically the golf counts, even if it did have a tragic end.”
“The Oscars are ready for your nomination, madam.”
I poked my tongue out at him. “And all the times you’ve been at my house this week, plus tonight.”
“Wait. You’re counting the last few days as dates?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You brought food, we spent time together, and there was a lot of kissing. Sounds like a good date to me.”
He scratched his jaw. “I’m starting to think that you’ll date anyone who brings you food.”
“In a New York minute.”
Laughing, he reached over and toyed with a lock of my hair. “All right, so that’s what? Six dates?”
“Seven.”
He shifted, being careful not to hurt me. “Do we really have to count lying in your bed watching serial killer docs as a date? It doesn’t sound like a date.”
Whoa. They were fighting words.
“Okay, whoa.” I held up my hands. “If you don’t think nachos and serial killer documentaries make for a perfect date, I don’t think I can be in a relationship with you.”
He snatched my hands, linking our fingers together, then moved up the sofa so I was practically sitting on his lap. His lips were twitching as he tried to hide a laugh, and I stared at him with my eyebrows raised.
“I never said it wasn’t a perfect date, even though you do argue with me when I’m right about the murders being stupid.”
“That’s your opinion, and in my opinion, it’s wrong.”
He licked his lips, not bothering to hide his smile this time. “I didn’t plan for any of that to be a date.
Honestly, I just liked lying there with you, watching TV, doing absolutely nothing. No expectations, no deep talks about the future.”
“We did discuss me murdering you for your fortune and your life insurance.”
Cameron paused, then wrapped his arms around me and held me against his body. “How long do I get you before you kill me?”
“Depends when we have children. Ideally, I’d like them to be adults so I can find myself a toyboy and run off to a private island.”
He buried his face in my hair, his whole body shaking with his laughter.
“You won’t be laughing when you’re dead,” I whispered dramatically.
It only made him laugh harder. He had the most infectious laugh. It was naturally deep but happy, and he was the kind of person who could start a Mexican wave of laughter.
“Is it wrong that I prefer this over the dinner we just had?” he asked quietly, pushing hair from my face so he could see me. “Maybe we have had seven dates.”
I shrugged one shoulder and picked a little fluff off his white t-shirt. “The best dates are the ones that don’t feel like dates at all. Sure, you can get dressed up and go to a fancy restaurant, or the movies, or whatever else people do when they date, but how much do you learn about a person? You can’t talk if you’re in the movie theater. You spend half a dinner date with food in your mouth. Bars are loud and busy. I’ve learned far more about you in the last few days just by lying and doing nothing with you than I would have if we went out.”
“It’s also a lot safer.”
“That is an added bonus, yes.” I smiled.
He brushed his thumb down my cheek. “You don’t know anything about me, though. Not how you would on a date.”
“I know that I like spending time with you. I know that I’m comfortable with you and I’m happy when I’m with you. Because of those things, I also know that I don’t care anymore that you’re my boss. And I think they’re more important than knowing what your favorite food is or what you do in your spare time. I can learn that. I can’t learn to want to be with you.”
Gently, he cupped my chin, drawing my face close to his. His lips brushed over mine a few times, the lightest of kisses. “From a girl who plans to murder me in twenty-five-years, that was deep.”
