Page 66 of Boss of Me

“Shit. I’m sorry.” His expression softens and his fingers caress my cheek. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just . . .Fuck.”

I stare into his stormy eyes. He looks so tortured, so conflicted, that I can’t help feeling sorry for him. But I feel even sorrier for myself. Especially my heart, which is in serious danger of getting massacred by Cupid’s arrow.

What did his mother mean by “They’re getting younger and younger”? Does Gunner make a habit of sleeping with his employees? Did he screw his last housekeeper? Am I just another notch on his luxurious bedpost?

Pulling away from his hands, I inhale a shaky breath and lick my lips. “I have to go.”

Something like panic flares in his eyes. “You can’t quit.”

“I’m not quitting. I’m going out.”

Stark relief washes over his face, warming my insides. The feeling doesn’t last.

“Where are you going?”

I bristle at his possessive tone. “It’s my day off. I have plans.”

“What plans?”

“None of your business.”

His jaw clenches. “You’re not taking the car unless you tell me where you’re going.”

My temper flares. “I don’t need the damn car.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Is someone picking you up?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

“Who?”

“If you must know, I’m having lunch with Dawson.”

Gunner’s face hardens. “Over my dead body.”

My mouth falls open.Seriously, dude?

“Let’s get something straight right now,” I say heatedly. “You might be my employer, but you’re not the boss of me!”

The words sound idiotic even to my own ears, but I’m too incensed to care.

“After last night,” he snarls, “how can you even consider going out with that guy?”

“For your information, we rescheduled our date afteryouforced me to cancel on him last week.”

“Cancel again.”

I jut my chin up. “No.”

He looks furious. “Dammit, Marlowe?—”

“Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you own me. I’m not yours, Gunner. I never will be.”

“Stop lying to yourself,” he growls.

“I’m not!”

He leans in until his nose almost touches mine. “You can’t run from this,” he says very softly, his breath caressing my lips. “What happened between us last night wasn’t a fluke or a mistake. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you. We fucking connected, sweetheart. We haven’tstoppedconnecting since we first laid eyes on each other. Whether you believe it or not, we’re going to make love again. And again. And again. It’s not a matter of if, but when.”