Page 15 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Fifteen

HOLLY

Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:

Sorry it’s late. The car will be there shortly, bring your coat for tonight.

As if I needed reminding that my boss is sexy.

And as if I needed reminding that I’m dressed and ready for another day working for him.

But I have to suck it up as I need the money, and at this point in time I don’t have a backup plan.

So I need to keep my cool around him today.

No more getting hot and flustered. Which would be easy to do if I hadn’t climaxed over him on more than one occasion.

What if he finds out that I have the hots for him?

What if he tries to make a move on me for real?

I sigh, pushing aside the thoughts in my once again overthinking brain. I consider myself a professional woman, I won’t let him and his… drop dead gorgeous face interfere with my work. At least his text was less forward this time.

Tread lightly, Holly.

Me:

No wukkas.

Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:

First an Uroo, now a wukkas. What is a wukkas?

Me:

Lol. It’s Aussie slang for no worries.

Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:

I see. Should I be concerned by these… peculiar choices of words, Miss Cate?

Me:

Oh definitely.

This isn’t treading lightly.

Me:

But, for my own curiosity, why would you be?

Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:

You Aussies are strange creatures. Who knows what you’re up to. I heard you guys even ride kangaroos to work. You never know, I might be in danger.

Me:

It’s a possibility.

I snark at my own comment, then see the car pull up out the front so I put on the fluffy coat that Cyrus bought me, and my beanie, locking the front door behind me.

My skin flares with goosebumps from the frosty air as I carefully place my feet on the snow.

This time I’m not going to slip on the ice, I’ve at least nailed that science to a t.

“Thank you,” I say to the driver as he takes off. My phone buzzes again.

Cyrus Stone aka Sexy Boss:

Hmm, I rest my case. Sorry to tell you, we don’t have roos here. But we do have reindeers, that’s pretty close. I could find one in town for you to hitch a ride, it’d probably be more reliable than me.

Ah, yes, his terrible driving. Let’s never discuss that again.

I think even a newborn infant could drive better.

I start typing my reply, giggling like I’m some school girl, and my thoughts drifting from me: A kangaroo or reindeer might be an impractical mode of transport…

but I’d rather ride you, then you can take me in my sleep?—

DELETE, DELETE, DELETE!

Nope. Wrong move. Code red.

CODE RED HOLLY!

Great, now I’m burning up, aroused and flustered… again! Not an ideal start to my non-date, date . I rewrite my text, going once more with the friend zone approach, not really knowing if it’s for his benefit or mine now.

Me:

Hilarious. On my way. C-ya soon, mate.

I punch send and quickly throw my phone into my tote bag to get rid of the problem. If he found out how screwed up I am in the head for what I did last night while thinking of him, I’m a goner. Straight to jail.

That damn book.

Shame trickles over my face, thankfully the driver can’t see me in his rearview mirror as I’m snuggled under my coat.

The drive to Cyrus’s place is all of twelve minutes.

And of those twelve minutes my brain is entirely consumed by a vision caused by the scene in that book.

Twelve whole minutes of biting my lip as a distraction from my jeans rubbing the sensitive area in that way, all because I didn’t have it in me to move and let it stop.

Ouch, maybe I bit too hard.

“Good morning, Miss Ca?—”

Cyrus stiffens, cutting his words short as I stand at the door. His eyes dart between mine, then to my lips in a speedy motion. With a frown, his facial expression splits from his regular sexy, nerdy, smiling, hunk of Canadian heaven, to a look that I’ve never seen from a man before.

“What?” Is there something on my face?

Do I look that bad?

Am I that tired from last night’s… activities?

Without warning, my body is a mere hair’s gap from his at a speed that sucks my breath away… again, sending an immediate signal to where my jeans were rubbing.

Is this how it’s always going to be? Will he always be this unpredictable?

Wait, where is his hand going?

Seconds, or a lifetime later I can’t be certain, a soft, large hand lands on my mottled, winter bitten cheek. Immense heat takes up the entire side of my face but I don’t unlock my gaze from his.

The way Cyrus is holding his palm against my skin has me wanting to lean into it, but for the purposes of needing to peruse the friend zone for the sake of my career, I don’t.

He’s looking at me as if I’m broken. Am I broken?

Am I dying or something? I didn’t know. All I knew is that I never want to move from this spot. Ever .

Ouch.

A slight, weepy breath falls from my mouth as his thumb brushes just under my bottom lip. “You’re bleeding.”

I am?

Ouch , I try to repeat the word aloud this time, but my voice is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it’s still lost in his eyes somewhere.

He softens, the dreamy blend of blue-grey irises behind thick, black glasses bleed through my soul, drawing me in like I’m a fish on a hook. Were they always this dreamy?

Yes.

Yes they were, Holly.

This is far too intimate for two strangers, and way, way too intimate for a boss and employee, yet I’m not stopping it. “What happened? Are you okay? Um, I’ll get some ice,” he sounds flustered.

I stay by the door not knowing what the frick just happened, feeling like I’m stuck in a washing machine cycle: my emotions going up, down, left, right, round and round. Which way is what? Which emotions are what?

“I’m… fine,” I try reassuring him, but he’s already fumbling at the freezer, attempting to collect ice from the tray. He drops a few chunks of ice on the floor and sends some flying in the air.

Butter fingers.

It’s hard to hold in my laugh, but not even putting my hand over my mouth stops it from escaping. “I’m okay, really. I um, I-I must have just bitten my lip in the car.” I did bite my lip in the car.

Yeah, and why did you do that, then, hmm?

Because my brain is corrupt!

This man somehow already has my mind, body, and soul stuck in some kind of delusional, nymphomaniac aphrodisiac trance, and I cannot think—nor even want to think—of anything else other than him .

“I’m beginning to see a trend in you. A calamity you are. I’m going to call Quinn and tell him to up your insurance. I don’t know how you’re allowed to be left alone,” Cyrus teases, pressing the ice against my skin.

I wince from the sudden chill, then blush under the intensity of the situation. His generosity and kindness is that of a real man. He is nothing like Adam, and for some reason that surprises me. “I don’t know either.” But I’m glad I’m not alone now.

“Let’s flip the day around. We’ll head to town first then.”

“But what about work?”

“Work can wait until we get back. Besides, I’m starving, I can’t work on an empty stomach.

Recon you can handle it or should I wrap you up in bubble wrap first?

” he toys, flexing his brow with a big self-satisfied smirk beaming across his mouth.

It’s both flirtatious and tormenting. “Taking all precautionary measures here, I can’t be losing my personal assistant so soon. ”

“Ah, yes. Well, I am a liability. Accident prone, collateral damage and all that. The press would have a field day with my stupid stories of how I got here, and if I done a number on myself out in public. You, not so much, you’re too normal…

too perfect ,” I say the last word under my breath, before my mouth could shut it in.

Crap .