3. Stephie #2
“It’s okay, it’s my job, Boss.” That’s entirely the wrong thing to say. Mr Bridger’s jaw tightens, and his black eyebrows slant down at the reminder that I’m his assistant.
He’s never minded before. In fact, it’s usually him who is at pains to remind me of our relative positions, and that I should claim overtime, or do some small chore for him. He’s a demanding boss, and I thought he liked it when I called him that.
He shakes his head and presses his lips together, flattening their fullness into a line.
“I shouldn’t have. I put you in danger. And we’re not out yet.
We’re in the middle of a snowstorm, in remote Scotland, and Volk could still come after us.
If I hadn’t brought you with me, you’d be safe and snug at home right now. ”
“But instead, I’m here, with you. Honestly, I don’t mind.” I’d rather be at his side, even if it’s dangerous.
“You’re okay with being stranded?” His expression lightens slightly.
“It’s a story to tell,” I say in the chirpy tone I’ve perfected over the years.
That plunges him back into darkness. “It might be. If we get out.”
“It’s warm in front of the fire, Boss. I think it could be far worse.” At least I’m with him.
“You should call me Dane,” he says after a pause.
“Dane.” I try it out, and it has such a different mouth feel. Not harsh like his surname. Soft, but dark and strong, like black velvet.
We eat the tinned soup and spam, and it’s not as bad as I anticipated.
It’s still snowing, and black outside when we’ve finished.
Dane insists that we should go to sleep despite the early hour.
I can’t fully see in the firelight, but he seems tired.
We gather the blankets and drape them over both of us.
“Go closer to the fire.” He urges me to the side, in the wrong direction. “Keep warm.”
“I’m fine!” Especially since he’s pushing me away from the fire. However much he says he’s okay, I’m concerned. He’s acting weird.
He glares at me and the familiar bolt of longing goes from my belly down to the spot between my legs that’s hot and needy. He warms me even with an irritable look.
“You’re shivering,” he says accusingly, as though I’m lying to him.
I’m not, or if I am, only a tiny bit. Not so he would be able to see. “The floor is cold.”
His arm is over me in a second, and he drags me to him until we’re flush.
I gasp and drag in a breath that’s full of the scent of his neck.
How is it that despite this being a long, long day, he still smells delicious?
Like fresh air and the sea, and some earthy musk that’s sexier than either of those words sounds.
My boss defies normal rules in every way.
“If the floor is cold, then lie on top of me.”
I let out a little squeak as he rolls me so I’m leaning against his side. My breasts are right on his chest, my palm on his abdomen, and our legs are tangled, my upper one laid between his.
I shift so I’m over him. His hand at my back, and I’m looking down into his face. So familiar, and yet I’ve never been this close to him. And now, everywhere we touch isn’t cold. Quite the reverse. I’m on fire.
My heart is vibrating.
“Dane…” I can’t quite bring myself to be bold enough to say something I can’t take back.
I love this job, being with him. I mustn’t make this awkward.
But there’s acknowledgement shimmering between us.
And yes, it’s cold, that might be all there is to the fact he’s drawn me to him.
Close. Maybe he’s just thinking of this as a casual thing, but I love this man with my heart and soul.
He’s difficult, and brilliant, and when he smiles at me for having done as he wanted, or anticipated his needs, I glow from the inside out.
Life without him is unthinkable.
“Stephie,” he rumbles. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I lean in. I lick my lips then part them. There’s a constant beat between my legs. I’m being reckless and probably a bit stupid, but I nearly died today, and so did Dane. The difference is, I would have died a virgin.
I’m lying half over him. And yeah, we’re wrapped up in blankets, but seriously.
This is the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me.
The list is admittedly short, but the top spot was wide open for the taking, and sleeping on a sheepskin rug in front of a fire, with my tall, dark, handsome boss definitely takes it.
We could be dressed from head to toe in plastic bags and this would still be infinitely sexier than my life in general.
Probably it isn’t for Dane. I’ve never seen him with a woman, and he’s never asked me to book anything like that, but surely he isn’t a monk. He’s far too attractive to be celibate. Much as I want him all to myself, it would be rather heartbreaking if no one got to enjoy how beautiful he is.
“Like…” He heaves an annoyed sigh.
“What?” I should get an Oscar for this.
“You’re looking at me like you want me to fuck you in front of this fire until you scream my name with pleasure.” His brows lower. “So stop it, princess, before I take the invitation.”
His crude words take my breath away, and I flush all over. But it’s the one, seemingly accidental, sweet word that my brain fixes onto. He’s never called me princess, and it feels so special.
I keep my gaze on him. I don’t even blink. I dare him.
He breathes out shakily, as though he’s restraining himself. His chest is solid. Muscled, yes, but tense.
Slowly, he shakes his head.
His bleak expression binds down my heart, which had been floating up, expanding with hope. It’s crushed under the weight of that denial.
And then his hand clasps my nape, holding me tight. In a raspy voice, he says, “Fuck it.”