Page 7 of Coming for Her Grumpy Boss (Coming For Christmas #3)

chapter

seven

Ford

We don’t talk much on the drive to the lake house. We’ve arrived earlier than my family, since they’re not coming in until tomorrow. I’ve given Mia a quick tour of the house and now she’s just standing there. Just staring at the bed in the room we’re going to share for the weekend.

“We’re just going to sleep in that bed together,” she says. “Me and you. My boss.”

I go stand behind her and put my hands on her waist. She stiffens beneath my touch.

“If you can’t pretend to like my hands on you, no one is going to believe we’re madly in love.”

“This is why I suggested we practice. So that we look like we’ve touched each other before,” she says.

“You’re still stiff. I haven’t done anything but put my hands on your waist. Loosen up, Mia.” I lean closer, put my mouth right next to her ear.

“I don’t know what we’re doing. What you’re doing. So I don’t know what to expect.”

“When you date other men do you always know every step in their playbook?”

“Well, no, of course not.”

“Right.”My voice is low, right next to her ear. She shivers, the delicate skin at her neck beading with goosebumps. “Because isn’t part of the excitement not knowing what your partner might do next?”

“Yes,” she says.

I move one hand to her stomach, putting her back flush against me. “You don’t know what I’m going to do next. Am I going to lean over and nip at the delicate shell of your ear?” I do as I describe, and she whimpers in response.

Her ass presses against me, and when her eyes fly open, I know she feels how hard I am. How desperately I want her.

“Ford?”

“Hmm?”

“Is that a spreadsheet in your pants or are you just happy to see me?”

“I always keep spreadsheets in my pants. Surely you’ve realized that by now.” I let myself lean into her fully, inhale the sweet scent of her neck. “You always smell so goddamn good.”

“Is this you proving a point?” she asks.

“A point about what?”

“Your acting ability?”

“I’m a terrible actor.”

“Okay, so you’re just pretending,” she says.

“No, Mia, this is me when I’m not pretending. When I’m finally letting go and saying and doing the things I’ve wanted to since the first moment I saw you.” I spin her in my arms to face me.

“What?” Her brow furrows in confusion.

“You heard me.”

“You want me?”

“So fucking much.”

“And you have? As in longer than just this moment? ”

“Since day one. Why do you think I ended things with Natasha?”

Mia opens her mouth, then closes it; her frown deepens. “I didn’t know you’d broken up. Remember?”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes. All because of you.” I take her arms and loop them around my neck. I want to put my hands everywhere on her. But I will not take advantage. “My intrepid assistant with your days of the week colors and giant cup collection.”

“I like my giant cups. Hydration is important.”

“Agreed.” I let my arms tighten around her body. She feels so fucking good pressed against me. Standing close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her irises.

Those pretty eyes narrow. “You know my color schedule?”

I nod. “Monday is my favorite, but only because you were wearing blue the first day we met. Admittedly, Friday is excellent as well because you wear jeans and red shirts emblazoned with my logo.”

“Company logo.”

“Same difference.”

Her eyes search my face, and I keep myself still, hoping she sees whatever she’s looking for. I’ve been hiding myself from her for so long. Maybe now she’ll see the truth.

“What color is Wednesday?” she asks.

“Yellow. Tuesday’s are cream-colored. My favorite of that group is the one with the tiny roses. Thursday’s are green and we’ve already discussed Friday.”

Her mouth rounds again in surprise.

“You are prone to migraines,” I say. “They get worse the closer you get to your cycle. But they’re also triggered by scents—no more microwave fish—and barometric pressure changes.”

She gasps. “Did you ban perfume at the office?”

“No. HR thought that could potentially end with some sexual harassment lawsuits. Instead, I got a state-of-the-art air filtration system installed.”

“It works quite well,” she says. One of her hands slides down my neck onto my chest. Her fingers curl slightly into the fabric of my Henley.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m certain any other migraine sufferers are equally appreciative,” she says.

I shrug. “Don’t care about them. Do you need any further proof that I’m obsessed with you?” I ask.

Her brows raise. “Obsessed?”

“Quite.”

“Obsessed is a pretty strong word.”

“You’ve told me, on more than one occasion, that I have a tendency to be intense. Have you not?”

“I have. I just didn’t know it extended into that aspect of your personality.”

“What aspect?” I quirk an eyebrow at her. My eyes drop to her lips, they’re full and begging for kisses. “Say it, Mia.”

“I don’t know what you would call it,” she says.

“You’re the one who segmented it into a part of my personality.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your desire or whatever.”

I smirk. “The truth is, I was minding my own fucking business one day when you walked into my office and changed everything I thought I knew about the world.”

“You tripped stepping over your chair,” she says with a smile.

“I did. And you laughed at me.”

She laughs again now. “It was adorable. And unexpected.”

“I really want to kiss you,” I say.

Her teeth bite into her bottom lip.

“I don’t want to overstep. My obsession aside, if you are not interested?—”

Her lips meet mine, effectively ending my words. She licks into my mouth, and I groan with need. Fuck, I want her.

“My sister,” she says, her mouth against mine. “Has a theory that all of our banter over the year plus of working together has been nothing but verbal foreplay.”

“I always liked your sister.”

“She’s been trying to convince me for months that I should crawl under your desk and blow you. See if it improves your mood.”

I choke and then laugh.

“Still like her?” Mia asks.

“I think she just earned her first bonus.”

“But I’ve never crawled under your desk,” she says.

“No. That might actually kill me.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to try it?”

“No, I absolutely want to try it. Can’t think of a better way to die.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says. “Sorry, I interrupted our kissing.”

I cup her cheek. “There are no expectations here. You’re in charge. I’m not your boss when it comes to that. And come to think of it, when we return, I should file some changes so that you no longer report directly to me.”

“You want to transfer me?”

“Fuck no. I still want you there with me. Every step of the way. Preferably on my lap. But for appearances and your protection, you shouldn’t report directly to me for performance reviews or whatever. Though, for the record, you get all the gold stars.”

She gives me an impish smile. “Do you have a secret sticker chart you’ve been hiding?”

“Absolutely. It’s where I keep all your gold stars.”

“Ford?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to get back to the kissing and the direction we were heading with that.”

“You certain?”

She nods. “There are some questions I need answered.”

“Like what?”

One fingertip taps at the small hoop I wear on my eyebrow, then the diamond in my left nostril. “Are these your only piercings?” she asks.

That makes me laugh. “What do you think?”

“The girls in Accounting?—”

I put my finger to her lips. “Don’t care about them. Only you.”

She blows against my finger. “I am guessing you have at least one nipple pierced.”

“Do you have thoughts about that?” I ask.

“I think it’s so damn sexy. But can I see?”

“You can see whatever you want.” With that, I step slightly away from her and pull off my shirt. I toss it on the chair in the far corner of the room.

She wastes no time getting her hands on my torso. “Both pierced,” she says. Her thumbs rub across the barbells bisecting my nipples, and I groan in response. “Sensitive?”

“Very.”

“Any other metal I should know about?”

“Are you asking if my dick is pierced?”

“Holy shit! Is it?” Her fingers trace over one of the intricate tattoos on my stomach.

I reach between us and unbutton, then unzip my jeans. I don’t do anything else, just open things so she can explore if she wants.

“You look like a mafia boss with all this dark ink and your piercings,” she says.

“Know a lot of mafia bosses, do you?”

“Well, you know how Saddle Creek is,” she deadpans.

I chuckle, but that laugh ends abruptly when Mia slides her hand in the front of my boxer briefs.