Page 21 of The Christmas Trap

Because I can’t let her leave without getting one last rise out of her, I call out, "You have two hours to finish everything I gave you."

I have the satisfaction of hearing her gasp.

"What do you mean?" She spins around.

"You’ll shadow me afterward, to familiarize yourself with what crosses my desk."

A frown mars her perfect forehead. "I need time to get through everything you asked me to do."

"Not my problem. It’s your fault that you’re not organized."

"Excuse me?" Color rises on her cheeks.

I’m finally getting to her. Good. Seeing her begin to simmer is the most satisfying experience ever. It lights a fire in my chest and squeezes my groin—enough that I have to part my thighs to accommodate my growing erection.

If seeing her angry turns me on so much, would watching her respond to my ministrations make me come in my pants?

I park the question and tap my fingers on the desk. "I sent you an email to that effect last night. Didn’t you read it?"

"You didn’t send me an email…” Her forehead furrows. She pulls up her device and scrolls down the screen.

Her shoulders tighten. “Apparently, youdidsend me an email. But I missed it.”

She bites down on her lower lip. And fuck me, that turns my cock to stone. I manage to stop the groan that rumbles up my throat and lower my chin with my best 'I’m your boss from hell’ glare.

She pales. Her throat moves as she swallows.

I know I’ve rattled her.

I was testing her, and she held up well. That last part about the email was my ego refusing to accept that she got the better of me. I couldn’t resist pushing my advantage as her boss and being in a position of power. Only, the satisfaction I expected doesn’t come.

Instead, when her pupils widen, an unmistakable sign of her arousal, lust punches straight into my gut.

She likes me taking charge. She likes the way I press her. And I like her reaction far too much.

It feels like I’ve stepped into uncharted territory. I’ve developed a taste for her responsiveness. One hit was enough. Now, I can’t go back.

There’s an inevitability to this that unsettles me, a pull I can’t reason away.

I lock that chaos down, masking it with a cool, unreadable stare.

“I suggest you read your emails carefully from now on, Ms. Monroe. We wouldn’t want you missing important information, would we?”

7

Lark

"Dismissed." He waves his hand.

My jaw drops.Oh no, he didn’t.But apparently, he did. And he had the last word. With a smirk on those sinfully delicious looking lips, he turns back to his phone.

Also, why does he have to wear glasses? It’s not fair that he looks even more delicious with them perched on his nose. Could the man get any sexier? It makes me want to lean in close enough until I fog them up. Then take them off and…Ugh! Stop.

So, my new boss is the most sinfully handsome man I've ever met. And he’s tall and dark and broad shouldered and has the kind of hair that begs me to run my fingers through it. And those cheekbones of his could cut glass, and his nose is aristocratic and adds a certain haughtiness, an unapproachableness, to his image, which makes me want to climb him like a tree.A-n-d, stop. I need to pull back on my runaway thoughts.

Guilt consumes me. How can I have such unfiltered, carnal thoughts about my boss? And why haven’t I felt these erotic sensations with the man I’m engaged to?

My head spins. This is so confusing. Despite warning myself not to, I can’t stop myself from being attracted to my boss.