Chapter 3
Casey
My breath hitches. He can’t be serious right now.
Declan’s been nothing but insanely professional, almost to the point of obsession.
He’s never crossed the line with me, not a single time.
Even this meal, while extremely out of character, still didn’t stray toward inappropriate.
We talked about our lives, and this is the most intimate and open he’s ever been, but if I had left the table ten seconds ago, I would’ve walked away assuming this was just two work colleagues getting to know each other better.
Now I’m sure something different is happening.
His eyes drift along my body. His lips press to the rim of his glass.
God, he’s got such a nice mouth. I glance down at his arms and feel a thrill burst into my core.
Natalie always talks about how hot Declan is, and I try not to notice.
He’s Boss Bastard, right? It doesn’t matter if he’s beautiful.
But suddenly, it’s all I can see.
“You want me to go home with you?”
He nods once and doesn’t elaborate. The moment is filled with tension, and I could almost scream. What the hell is happening? Is he seriously asking me back to his apartment for something more than just dinner?
But no, that’s crazy.
I know Declan Whelan. I’m just a little tipsy and I’m totally misinterpreting everything.
I’ve been to his place before anyway, more than once actually, mostly to run errands for him like food shopping and getting clothes laundered.
I bet he just wants me to pick up some dry cleaning so I can drop it off in the morning or something like that.
This is innocuous. I just have a filthy, messed-up mind.
I’m so pent up, and I keep thinking about that vibrator in his hand and the way he easily turned it on, and god, what would it be like if he slipped it inside of me?
The muscles in his shoulders flexing, his mouth open, and that amazing, melodious voice of his whispering filthy fantasies in my ear as sweat trickles down my body?
Stop fantasizing about your asshole boss, Casey!
“Okay, yeah, sure, I’ll come back to your place.”
“Good.” He gestures for the waitress, pays for the meal, and leads me back outside with a long stride. I have to hurry to keep up, and I keep thinking I’m going to topple over any second. These heels are killing me.
His car’s already waiting out front. The driver nods as we climb into the back. The privacy screen is already rolled up. Declan’s so big that our knees are inches apart, and I’m intensely aware of his enormous, muscular body.
But the second we start moving, he stares out the window. He always does this whenever we travel places. I’ve been in cars just like this with him a dozen times over the past couple of years, and I’ve never felt this much tension before.
Now it’s everywhere. All my muscles are tight. I try to roll my shoulders, but that doesn’t help. I catch him glancing at me, and I swear he licks his lips slightly when my chest is shoved out.
I feel my skin flush red, but he’s already staring out the window again.
This is so stupid. Why am I having these thoughts?
This dinner was just a boss doing something nice for an employee who mortified herself.
I bet he feels sorry for me and wanted to give me a little treat to keep me from quitting.
There’s nothing inappropriate or personal going on here. This is all business.
Declan’s never been anything else but professional.
I’m being an idiot.
Nothing’s about to happen.
We’re going back to his place so he can shove a bundle of worn suits and sweaters in my arms.
And I bet he’ll remind me that I’m only to call him Mr. Whelan from now on and that this whole first-name-basis thing was just for the night.
There’s just no way he’s bringing me back to his apartment for sex.
I spend the ten-minute car ride to his upscale residential building thinking about sleeping with him.
Which is really bad since it’s not happening. But the more I imagine his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, his soft masculine groans in my ears, the more I want it.
And I want it bad.
I’m also extremely aware that I haven’t been with anyone since I was a senior in high school. I lost my virginity to my boyfriend back then, but we broke up when we went to different colleges.
It’s hard to do long distance when you’re eighteen.
Ever since him, men have found me vaguely terrifying.
So it’s been a solid seven years since I’ve been touched by a man like that.
And honestly…
I’ve never been touched by a man like Declan.
He’s like twenty years older than me. My high school boyfriend meant well and did his best, but he was inexperienced.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Declan would know what he’s doing.
Could I really go through with it? If he wanted me to?
Could I seriously have sex with Boss Bastard?
We get out of the car together and enter the building.
His apartment is near the top of the tower, and the elevator ride up is excruciating.
He stares at the numbers as they tick past, his jaw tight, his expression like he’s wrestling with some difficult problem.
Which actually just makes him so much hotter.
Like he’s a little bit angry and stressed, and I have no idea why that turns me on more, but it does.
I have to control myself.
I’m just being silly.
After I stop at his place, I’ll go back home, say goodnight to Sheila, and tell Natalie all about this wild dinner and how dumb I was to think Boss Bastard might actually want to have sex with me.
We’ll get a good laugh out of it.
I follow Declan to his apartment door. He lingers in the hallway. There’s only one other residence on this floor and the next, but they’re on the opposite side of the building.
We’re completely alone as he turns and looks at me.
His eyes are hard, and he seems pissed off.
I have no idea what I did wrong, and I start to feel awkward and afraid. My stomach twists, and I lace my fingers together in front of me.
His gaze flits to my lips.
“I need you to go into this fully aware of what I want, Casey.” He sounds like he’s struggling to speak. My stomach is a blaze of worry.
“It’s okay, Mr. Whelan—”
“Declan,” he corrects, stepping closer to me. I move back and bump into the wall. We’re so close now that I can feel heat rolling off him and smell that musky cologne.
The scent I gave him.
“Or sir,” he whispers.
I nearly moan at that word. Oh my god, I’m losing my mind. I’m beyond aroused. It’s pathetic. My nipples are hard, and I can feel how wet I am. It’s obscene and embarrassing. I should seriously say goodnight, take his dry cleaning, and run back home before I make a fool of myself.
“It’s okay, Declan. You can… you can just tell me… whatever you need.” I’m stammering and making a fool of myself. This is just a work thing. Why am I so nervous?
His eyes blaze. He reaches up and touches my cheek. I go very still, heart racing.
Because this isn’t how a boss should act with his employee.
“I’ve resisted you for so long. I resisted you for years.” His voice is husky and low like he’s barely in control. I’ve never seen Declan like this before.
Did he really say years?
Which means from the first day I started working for him…
“You resisted me?”
“I had rules. I followed them obsessively for so long. But when I saw that box and the look on your face, I lost myself. I’ve been losing myself.
And now I’m about to cross a line I swore I’d wait to cross until the right time, and I need you to understand.
I need you to tell me it’s okay.” He leans in close.
His lips are near mine. “Tell me it’s okay, Casey. ”
Holy freaking shit.
I only halfway understand what he’s saying. Rules? What rules? But I don’t care about that.
He wants me.
This is really happening.
Am I sure I want this?
I’m not prepared at all.
Declan is nothing like the young men I’ve been with.
He’s so much older…
And such a bastard. And he’s my boss!
If we cross this line, how can we work together tomorrow? How can I still have a job?
But it’s Declan Whelan. If anyone can take tonight and compartmentalize it away…
It’s Boss Bastard. The most obsessive, controlling, perfectionist, neat-freak psycho I’ve ever met.
Which means…
If I want him, I just have to say the word.
And I can’t wait because based on the way he’s looking at me, I don’t think he’s going to hold himself back for much longer.
Every inch of my body wants him. I’m leaning forward, and slowly, I reach my hands up. I press them against his chest.
His heart’s racing, just like mine.
His muscles are firm and incredible.
He’s staring with pure, filthy yearning in his eyes.
Like he’s begging me… please say it.
I stand on my toes, getting closer.
Can I seriously do this?
“It’s okay… sir,” I say very softly.
His mouth finally slams against mine. His fist comes up into my hair and roughly grabs it. I’m taken by the most intense, passionate, possessive kiss I’ve ever tasted in my life.
He’s wine and chocolate; he’s soft and firm all at once. His tongue is gentle and his lips need to own me.
A low, masculine growl escapes his throat, like an animalistic groan of pure bliss, and it strikes me straight into my core.
I’m destroyed, completely demolished, as his other hand strokes down my hip, brushing softly against my breasts as it moves along my body, like he can’t stop touching me.
I kiss him harder, fingers curling, pressing into the flesh of his muscular chest, and I whimper as he pulls my hair harder, tugging my chin up and making my mouth open wider so he can fit more of his tongue inside my mouth.
I’m being devoured, and my god, I want him to keep going.
Then it ends. He pulls back, breathing hard. I’m gasping for air, cheeks tingling, lips numb.
“Inside,” he commands, releasing me only long enough to get the door unlocked. “Right now.”