Page 75 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

My boss i s kissing me. My hot boss, who I’ve eyed from a distance but never dared give any sign I had a crush on him, is kissing me.

He has his arm about my waist and is holding me close to his big, broad, manly chest. The chest I’ve peeked glances at because I’d have to be blind not to notice how he fills out his jacket.

How his sculpted torso is outlined against that white shirt.

The corrugated plane of his pecs threatening to pop the buttons.

The powerful thighs I'm brushing up against leave me with a sense of coiled muscles and unleashed energy, like the turbocharged vibrations swelling from a rocket about to blast off into space. Then, the sensation of his lips on mine takes over. Softness. How could his mouth be this soft when the rest of him is like leaning into a brick wall? He holds me with such care. Like I’m the most precious thing in this world.

Like I’m a jewel, and he’s the velvet casing enclosing me.

Cocooning me from the vagaries of this world.

There's no missing the protectiveness in his stance as he cradles my head with a big hand at the back of my head, the other grasping my waist like we’re one of those entwined figures in a music box.

And the song playing in my head is, surely, brought on by how tenderly his mouth brushes over mine? Once, twice.

Then, his grasp on my head slides to the back of my neck.

A shiver squeezes my spine. The possessiveness is unmistakable, as is how he squeezes the curve of my hip.

He pulls me into the cradle of his thighs, the coiled power in them giving me the confidence that he could hold up my weight.

He draws me in closer until, bam-bam-bam , his heartbeat rocks against mine.

That dark, peppery scent of his intensifies in my nostrils.

The heat of his body hits me like a solar flare—bright, blinding, magnetic—rushing through my chest and wrapping around me with the force of gravity itself.

My knees grow weak. I sway forward, and he tightens his hold on the nape of my neck.

A full body shudder rolls over me. My stomach seems to bottom out.

It’s as if I’ve boarded a roller coaster and am being pulled up that first incline, knowing what’s coming up, knowing it’s going to swoop down, and being unable to stop that inevitable sinking sensation.

He flattens his fingers so I can feel each individual fingerprint like a brand through the fabric of my dress.

Then, he bites down on my lower lip. I feel it all the way to my toes.

I gasp, and he licks into my mouth, the touch of his tongue against mine an explosion of emotions.

Taste. Dark and complex. Sensations like sparks left in the wake of a shooting star.

A sweetness so unexpected, it’s mind-blowing.

A tenderness, a sense of being cared for that’s so surprising, so heady, so unexpected, it cuts through to my core. I didn't expect that.

I fantasized about kissing my boss, of course.

About being held in his big brawny arms and pressing my palm into his sweaty chest, feeling the aliveness of the blood throbbing through his veins, and sensing the unforgiving strength of him, which was so evident, even clothed in his expensive suits.

But this…gentleness, this sense of safety washing over me in his arms is unexpected.

The world around us recedes. The fact that my ex is watching only turns the sparks coursing through my veins into a full-blown fire.

It burns through the barriers I throw up against the world, against him.

I forget where I am. That I’m his employee.

And he’s my boss. I’m only a woman, held against a man who seems to cherish me and want me, and is trying to comfort me.

Subconsciously, a part of me realizes that he’s doing this to make my ex jealous, that, in all likelihood, all of this is an act, because he noticed the drama he walked in on and is trying to prove I'm desirable. But another part of me doesn’t care.

After being dumped in such a cold-blooded fashion, my wounded ego wants to bask in the attention of this gorgeous specimen of the male species who I ogled from afar but knew was never going to be within reach.

So, to find myself in his arms is…as much of a surprise as the earth rotating anti-clockwise.

And maybe, it’s never going to happen again.

And who cares if this is inappropriate? The way he makes me feel is like the most beautiful, most wanted woman in this world, and I’m going to make the most of it.

I rise up on my tiptoes, and when I part my lips, he slants his face, slashes his lips over mine, and then the kiss is everything I imagined it would be from the meeting of our lips.

Hard, insistent, demanding and so very hot.

Sensations zip through my bloodstream. I feel the touch all the way to the roots of my hair, and my fingertips, and the heels of my feet.

Ohmigod, it’s like I’ve been caught in the swell of a wave and am being raised higher and higher to the heavens.

Like I’m having an out-of-body experience.

Like I’m somewhere high up, looking down on the two of us, our breaths entwined, mouths clinging to each other.

His self-assured, firm grip on my neck holding me up, and turning me on, and supporting me, at the same time.

And me, clutching his shoulders, aware of the smoothness of his jacket under my fingertips, and that bone deep, head spinning sensation of his tongue dancing with mine.

My heart pounds in my chest like a butterfly trapped in a bell jar, my pulse rate spiking so high, I’m scared I’m going to black out. The kiss seems to go on and on, and at the same time, it’s too short because it’s suddenly over.

I sway and become aware that he’s holding me up. His hand is on the nape of my neck, the other on my hip,

My world has tilted, my points of reference changed. My expectations for a kiss dramatically elevated. I know, I’ll never be satisfied by meeting my lips with anyone else’s.

My palate is coated with his taste, my mouth full of the remembrance of how his tongue swiped against mine. My heart feels like it’s in free fall, my emotions swooping over mountains and dipping down into the valleys between them like an eagle riding the air currents.

I stare at him, lips still imprinted with the shape of his.

My ex clears his throat. "Uh… What… What’s the meaning of this? Lark… You… What are you doing? This man?—"

"Is going to take care of her the way you never would have been able to. You had your opportunity, buster, and you blew it." My boss jerks his chin in the direction of the doorway. "Beat it, will ya?"

"B-b-b-ut, I?—"

"Best be gone, before I call security. I’ll have you thrown in prison, and I’m sure you’ll be someone’s bitch before the week is out, so get the hell out before I make good on my promise."

"Look here, there’s no need to get personal," my ex blusters.

My boss, without taking his glowing golden gaze from mine, lifts one hand, swipes it out, and grabs the other man’s collar.

With one quick move, he’s pushed him back with enough force that my ex stumbles.

He also seems to get the message; he makes tracks toward the doorway.

Where he pauses. "Anyway, it’s not like she can satisfy any man in bed. She’s frigid. So, you can keep?—"

My boss turns his head slowly in the direction of my ex, who freezes. Whatever he sees on my boss’ face is enough to have him swallowing audibly.

"Leave. Now." My boss’s voice is like a whip cracking out in his direction. It seems to catch him with the impact of a bodily blow, for he pushes the door open and lurches out. It swings shut behind him.

I am so mortified. The heat sears my cheeks.

My stomach ties itself in knots. The ignominy of what he said…

Aloud. Argh. And in the presence of a man who’s so virile, he seems to breathe out pheromones.

I try to move back, but my boss’ hold on my neck tightens…

Just for a second. Then he releases me, stuffs his hands into his pockets and stares into my face. "You okay?"

I shake my head.

"Why don’t you sit down?"

I’m too much in shock to compute how to place one foot in front of the other.

"I’m going to guide you to your chair, okay?"

I stare at him.

"Nod if you understand."

I nod.

He takes my hand, the touch like a thousand little fireflies fluttering against my skin and leads me to my chair. He pulls it out, turns it to face us and guides me to sit in it. When I’m seated, he picks up the glass of water on the desk and hands it to me.

"Drink it."

I do. I don’t stop until it’s empty. Then hand it back to him. That’s how much in shock I am. But the water does revive me enough to blink. "What was that all about?" I whisper.

"That…was me showing your ex, what he's missing out on."

"I… I guessed that." I swallow.

"Guessed what?" He places the glass down on the table.

"That you were trying to make him jealous. But you heard him, he doesn’t think I'm worth marrying anyway."

He glares at me. Those golden eyes of his seem to blaze with an anger arising from the core of his being.

I swallow. He looks enraged. Reminding me of why I’ve kept my distance from him so long.

He’s not the kind of man who can be tamed.

With his shaggy hair and massive build, and those amber eyes, I’ve nicknamed him The Lion. And now, I’m reminded why.

"You’re better than to believe that loser."

"Doesn’t change what he said." I hunch my shoulders. "I’m… Uh… Clearly, not good enough to keep him."

"Fuck him."

His voice is so harsh, I flinch.