Page 131 of Boss of the Year

Not Daniel. Not the fantasy I’d carried for ten years like a security blanket.

I wanted Lucas Lyons—complicated, controlled, impossibly gentle but veryrealLucas, who looked at me like I was someone to protect and corrupt and treasure all at once.

The water in the other room shut off, and I heard the sounds of him moving across the hall. Getting dressed, probably. Rebuilding those walls that had come down with my family and in the warm water under the night sky.

I stood, clutching my towel to my body, and then moved to stand in front of the mirror hanging next to Sofia’s closet.

Maybe I didn’t need anyone to see me.

Maybe I needed to see myself.

I dropped the towel.

I flinched and wanted to look away out of habit. All the years of sucking in my stomach and hunching my shoulders, of covering my thighs and breasts with oversized clothes. Hiding all that was well and truly mine.

The mirror didn’t lie, nor did it allow for hiding. For once, I made myself look.

My breasts were heavy and full, the kind of curves that made me shrink in locker rooms or avoid low-cut attire. My stomach wasn’t flat, but soft and slightly rounded. My thighs touched. My hips flared. My body was a patchwork of stretch marks, pale freckles, and heat-flushed skin. I was short, but no wraith. Asymmetrical and imperfect. But I was here. Warm. Alive.

And beautiful, maybe.

Not because anyone else said so. But because, for the first time, I wasn’t trying to disappear. I wasn’t hiding.

And then, without warning,hewas there. Not in the room, but in the corners of my mind.

Lucas.

I saw his hands skimming over my skin. I felt his body, tall and strong, as he pressed into me. I heard his voice, low and ragged, calling mesweet,soft,unbearably perfect.

He’d wanted me. Seen me.

And now, I wanted to see him too.

Before I knew it, I had opened the door and crossed the hall completely naked. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he’d hear it through the door, but I knocked anyway.

I wanted this.

No questions asked.

No uncertainty.

I wantedhim.

The door opened, Lucas rubbing his eyes sleepily, a towel draped low around his hips. Bits of water still clung to his skin, and his hair was still wet.

“Marie? Everything all—oh,fuck.”

Those storm cloud eyes locked on mine and every muscle in his gorgeous, lean body flexed.

“Marie.” His gaze flickered down, then back up again, as if the sight of my naked body burned him. “Marie, what are you doing?”

“I…” For a half-second, familiar insecurity darted through me. But then I straightened, remembered that while I was indeed the shy maid from the kitchen, I was also the bold woman in the mirror. The one who appreciated who she was. And I wanted the one who appreciated her too.

“I want you,” I declared as clearly as I could. “Lucas, I?—”

“We can’t.” He cast his eyes up, tortured. “Jesus. I’m sixteen fucking years older than you, and you work for me, and there are too many?—”

“And none of that matters,” I interrupted. “Or I thought it didn’t. Does any of it matter now to you?”