Noelle
T he tricky thing about laying down the law is you also have to stick to those rules. And like a butt-hurt idiot, forty minutes ago I declared that Reid and I should pretend that nothing happened between us—that we never kissed so long and deep and hard that my bones turned to jelly.
Yeah, right.
He agreed, and my boss has been silent ever since. Withdrawn and pale. My heart aches every time I glance at him, his jaw harder than granite, those icy eyes fixed unerringly on Kermit’s antics. His damp hair is all rumpled from the shower, and his skin smells like the inn’s complimentary lemon-scented soap.
Is Reid okay?
Did I hurt his feelings?
But he’s the one who ran away from our kiss like he was horrified. I did him a favor by drawing a line under it. Saved him from the thing he hates most in the world—an awkward conversation. Right?
It’s a relief when the movie ends and we can crawl under the bed covers. Part of me dreads that Reid will insist on sleeping on the floor, that he won’t allow something so pedestrian and intimate between us as sharing a bed, but he slides beneath the covers without comment. We both flick off our bedside lamps, sudden darkness filling the room.
Reid turns over, facing away from me, the sheets rustling against his clothes. He’s still dressed in his freaking shirt and pants, but hey. At least he’s not curled up in the shower tray, determined to keep away from my grabby hands.
“Night,” I say. My voice sounds weird.
“Goodnight.”
Oh, god.
This is so awkward.
Lying in bed with my boss, our breaths soft in the quiet, I’ve never been so aware of my body. The awkward sprawl of my limbs, never comfortable no matter how much I shift position. The itch of my still-damp hair against the back of my neck. My breathing. My gurgling stomach. My racing heart.
The wind moans outside our bedroom window, the blizzard still raging out there. Probably burying Reid’s car under mounds of heavy snow. Oh man, what if we’re trapped here another night? What if I have to spend another night lying beside my boss in bed, dying a slow, agonizing death of awkwardness?
“Stop fretting,” Reid snaps. “I’m not going to touch you, . You can stop gnawing on your fingernails.”
Balling my hand into a fist, I wrench it away from my mouth. Okay, so maybe I was stress-nibbling. Can’t he just go to sleep and leave me to freak out in peace?
“That’s not what I’m worried about, you giant jerk.”
Reid laughs, bitter and scornful. “Your December bonus is safe too. Go to sleep so we can get this night over with.”
Ugh. Flopping over onto my side, I glare at the shadowed outline of my boss, and picture smothering his beautiful head with a pillow.
It takes a long time. Takes what feels like hours, though Reid never shifts or rolls over to face me too.
But I fall asleep with a scowl on my face—and our earlier kiss still tingling on my lips.
* * *
Heat.
Comfort.
Safety.
When I surface from a fuzzy dream, I’m being held. Not just held— clutched . Gripped possessively in my boss’s arms, my back sealed against his marble chest. Held so tightly, it’s like he’s worried that pirates might steal me away in the night.
Reid’s sleeping breaths puff against my neck. Slow and deep.
His hard cock digs into my ass cheek.
Ah, crap.
Reid’s going to be so weird about this if he wakes up and finds us tangled together. He’ll probably storm into the bathroom again and lock the door, barricading himself in there until morning. Guilt swirls through my belly at the thought—but hey, I’m not the one with octopus arms in this bed. I’m not the one clinging on for dear life.
That is all Reid Merryweather.
Pressing my lips together, I will my galloping heart to slow down, because I shouldn’t be so thrilled to find myself in my boss’s arms. Need to focus. Need to slip free.
He’ll hate himself if he wakes up and finds out he broke his word. If he finds out he touched me after all, despite swearing he wouldn’t.
I can’t allow that. Reid Merryweather already hates himself plenty.
“Just… okay…” Whispering to myself, I pat down the length of Reid’s arm, trying to figure out a way to unhook him. When his shirtsleeve turns to fever-hot bare skin, I pause, gulp, and keep going.
His forearm is toned and taut. His bones are so much bigger than mine, thicker and sturdier, and the fine layer of dark hair feels silky. I find his wrist and then his hand, scooped right around my waist.
Hmm.
We really are locked together, tangled tight.
My lower belly pulses, a traitorous slickness gathering between my thighs.
No. No. I won’t think like that. Won’t notice how good this feels. How right and hot and grounding, with Reid’s weight and strength behind me, and the possessive way he holds me. Like I’m his. Like he could rock forward at any minute, roll me face down into the mattress, and slide home into my body.
There are layers of clothing in the way to prevent that. Yes. That’s a good thing, because Reid shouldn’t do anything like that unless he’s awake for it, fully in his right mind.
Still, when he grumbles something in his sleep, the words tickling my ear, and his big palm roams over my belly, slipping beneath my pajama shirt to spread over my bare skin…
I can’t help it. I breathe out a blissful sigh.
And god help me, my ass pushes back instinctively, with no input from my brain. It grinds back against my boss’s cock, urging him on, and Reid growls into my hair then tips us forward. Questing fingers slip beneath my waistband, slide between my legs, and tease along my seam.
Shit.
Well, there goes my great escape.
“Reid,” I moan, so flustered and boneless and overwhelmed. Trying to keep my head even as the man of my dreams cups my pussy and squeezes, his cock rubbing against my ass. “Reid! Wake up. Shit, please wake up.”
One moment, the man behind me is hungry and insistent. His hand delves between my legs like he belongs there, touching me boldly, spreading my wetness around. His cock rubs against me in a dark promise.
The next, my boss freezes, his entire body turning to stone. His fingers go still, pressed against my throbbing clit, and his breath starts to come in panicked bursts against my neck.
“?” His voice is pure dread.
“It’s okay,” I say quickly, heart breaking for the horror I can feel coming off him in waves. The choking self-loathing. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” I pat his wrist like a weirdo. “But… you should be awake for this.”
There’s a long, tense silence. Reid’s finger twitches against my clit, and I bite back a whimper.
I will not pressure this man.
I will not rub against him like a cat. Not like this. Not now.
But god , I want to.
Want Reid to touch me again. To squeeze my pussy again. Want him to lick my neck and pant in my ear as he yanks my pajama pants down, rolls on top of me, shoves my legs apart and—
“How did we—?”
Frustrated tears brim in my eyes, even as I give a wobbly laugh. “I don’t know, I was asleep too. Does it matter?”
If the ache gets any worse between my legs, I will scream.
But Reid’s breaths are slowing. Getting heavier. Ragged.
His hand tightens on me, cupping my mound once more, and my whole body flushes inferno-hot. “This is okay?” He sounds like he can’t believe it, like it does not compute.
“It’s more than okay.” At this point, I’m beyond playing it cool. “ Please , Reid.” My hips roll, grinding me against his hand, and his breath is hot against my neck. Hot and damp. “If you want this too… keep going.”
Silence stretches between us, taut and agonizing.
Then Reid groans and flattens me down once more.
Yes.
Thank god.
His clever hand moves between my legs, slicking and swirling. Rubbing and pinching. His mouth is on my neck, and his cock rubs against my ass, and it’s perfect, so perfect, and I was so afraid he’d snatch this away again.
“You must be boiling in those clothes.” My words are half muffled by the pillow, but Reid huffs in amusement.
“Hotter than the sun.”
“Take them off then, boss. I want you naked. Want your skin on mine.”
A pained grunt. His hands leave my body, and by the time I flop over onto my back, Reid’s already standing beside the bed, yanking his shirt over his head. It flies through the air, ghostly in the gloom, and I’m glad my eyes have adjusted enough to see this: Reid Merryweather’s bare chest in all its glory.
The sculpted planes and toned abs. The scattered dark hair on his chest that forms a line trailing down, down, down, disappearing beneath his waistband.
Reid flicks his pants button open. “You’re sure about this?” He sounds strained.
“So sure.” Wrestling my way out of my borrowed pajamas, I barely blink as I watch my boss strip down to nothing. As more of that pale skin is revealed, his eyes dark and unreadable in the shadowed room.
He’s so handsome. Does he even realize that?
When I’m completely bare, Reid goes still. Standing over me at the bedside, he inhales, long and deep—then gusts out a slow breath. Like he’s wrestling for control.
“Come back,” I say, raising my arms. And it’s just like earlier, but this time, he comes. Reid climbs back onto the bed, settles his weight on top of mine, and now we’re chest to chest. Face to face, with nowhere else to look, no way of pretending this isn’t really happening. That we’re both still dreaming.
Do I want to pretend that?
Of course not. I’ve wanted this for so long.
“Hey, boss.” My arms wind around his neck, and I kiss the tip of his nose. “Nice ass.”