Falling Under You: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (1001 Dark Nights) Read Online Free PDF Page B

note of because he’d stood right above me like this, how many times? And the crotch had never been an issue before in the least.
    Blushing, I averted my gaze and stared at the now empty space on my desk where the papers had laid just a moment before.
    “Of course. And I’ll bring that section back for your signature before submitting them.” Even with the slightest trace of amusement in his voice, Boyd was every ounce the professional that I should have been. That I usually was .
    “Great. Thank you.” I turned to my computer screen, essentially dismissing him. It felt rude somehow. But I was kind of sure that was how I usually treated him. Wasn’t it?
    Whether he was offended or not, he took the cue. At the door, he hesitated. “Would you like this shut again?”
    I gathered my answer this time before I stuttered a response. “No. You can keep it open.” I didn’t sound certain, but I couldn’t hide behind my door forever.
    “Got it.” He started out then paused, his head half turned away so that I could study him more freely than if he were looking right at me. His jaw was sharper than I’d realized before. Square. Strong and smooth, though Friday he’d had the slightest hint of stubble. I wondered what that might feel like along the inside of my thigh, how it might burn and tickle and drive me crazy.
    Then he was talking again.
    My head snapped to attention. I was pretty sure he’d said something about having one more thing. So I said, “Yes?” Which felt like it would work in a variety of situations in case that wasn’t what he’d said after all.
    He locked his eyes with mine, slamming the breath out of my lungs with the intensity of his stare. “I just wanted to say for the record, Ms. Anders, that this is your court. Here, you’re in charge. Like you’ve always been.”
    It should have been awkward to have to be reminded of my place by my assistant of all people. But instead, it was comforting, which was surely how he’d meant it. His expression was intent. His tone sincere. He wanted us on familiar ground as much as I did.
    And wasn’t he the gentleman for giving us permission to do just that.
    “Got it,” I said, repeating his last words.
    He winked—an action that absolutely did not send a storm of butterflies to flutter in my belly—and disappeared from the threshold.
    Well. That was over. And everything was fine. We’d be fine. Work would go on just fine.
    Also, now I’d learned a few surprising things:
    After this exchange with Boyd, remaining professional with Hudson would be a breeze
     Boyd wouldn’t make our working relationship awkward by bringing up reminders of Friday night or trying to encourage a repeat
    Any move that happened between us would have to be orchestrated by me
    I was also ninety-nine point five percent certain that eventually a move would be orchestrated by me. The question was, how long could I hold out before that?
     
     
    * * * *
     
     
    The answer was nearly six weeks .
    It was the end of August, and Boyd had accompanied me on a business trip to Montreal for a few days, as he often did. As I’d suspected, things had returned to normal in the office. Boyd had maintained his professionalism, never making sly remarks or even throwing a crude glance my way, though I threw more than a hundred in his direction. We never talked about that night or his proposition. We were good. Stable.
    But I did find myself taking more notice of him in those weeks. His careful attentiveness to his job and my needs as an employer seemed to be layered with more than just the desire to perform well. There was care involved. There was interest. There was affection. All of which grew quietly between us and our glances became longer and more frequent and the magnetic pull between us grew stronger.
    And so, sometime after dinner that evening in Montreal, I found myself outside his hotel room wearing nothing but the white robe that had been provided in my suite. My hand was