core. My damn panties are wet again. My knees buckle and I tip forward, my cheek squashed to his shoulder.
His palm on my backside stops massaging and simply stays there, keeping me pressed to him. Every fibre of my being is aware of his breath by my ear, not the slightest bit ragged.
The hand on my backside, firm and sure.
The beating of his heart against mine.
The warm strength of the shoulder my cheek rests again.
Roman Rocchi is my addiction. Everything about the man thrills me. The excitement. The uncertainty. The unexpected. I don’t know where to draw the line, how much is too much. I’ll take it all and come back for more.
If he takes me right now, right here on the boardroom table, I’ll scream with desire and not give a damn who hears.
He doesn’t.
He brings both his hands to my hips and moves me out of his way so he can retrieve his jacket from the back of the chair.
I prop my trembling body up on the boardroom table, arms crossed tightly, barely managing shallow breaths.
“I suggest you pack warmly for Scotland, Ms. Lynch,” he says as he shrugs his jacket on and walks past me on the way out. “The weather’s turning and I’ve heard predictions of snow.”
7
MY STOMACH IS hard with knots by the time the plane touches down in Inverness. Roman didn’t fly with us. I haven’t seen him in weeks, not since he offered me wardrobe advice and left me in the boardroom with a tingling ass.
Celia handled our itineraries, but apparently Roman made his own arrangements. Unless we’ve assumed incorrectly. When he said he’d arranged for us to visit Kleighnorm, maybe he wasn’t including himself in that us .
I’m an assertive person and I don’t think I’d stand for being jerked about in a relationship. Not that I have hard facts to go on here. I’ve slept with one boy and three men in my life. Three men, as in exactly three times. I’ve had one boyfriend, and that was in high school.
But I don’t think I would stand for it, and I don’t think that is what Roman’s doing. I think he’s playing an intoxicating, sophisticated game.
He’ll be here.
Of course, that’s the only part I’m sure of. Whatever else may or may not happen has had me in a constant flip between thrilling dread and bone-melting flushes for weeks.
A warm hand folds over my vice-like grip on the narrow armrest.
Tones of amusement inflect Liam’s voice at my ear. “You can let go now, Kee. We landed five minutes ago.”
I give him a weak smile. We both know I’m not the least bit afraid of flying or landing. Liam’s between girlfriends again, which means he’s been around enough to notice my distraction of late.
He won’t push, though.
He never does.
When he came back, he never once asked why I’d cut him off cold. I told him eventually. I told him everything.
And I’d tell him now, too, but what is there to say? I don’t know if I want my boss to fuck me or spank me. Oh, and yes, I’m a nervous wreck because there’s a good chance he’ll just ignore me and do neither.
Somehow, I don’t think Liam would understand.
Hell, I don’t understand.
The seatbelt lights go off and we’re herded from the plane in an orderly fashion. I pull my winter coat closer at my throat. There’s a frosty bite in the wind sweeping in from Moray Firth and straight onto the runway. The temperatures have plummeted in the last week and this far north, the air is icy.
Across the Firth, snowy peaked mountain ranges dominate as far as the eye can see. Above, the sky brews a petulant, dark grey to shadow the dramatic landscape in a sight that takes my breath away.
While we’re walking, I grab my phone from my messenger bag and snap a handful of photos to send to Simone. She was in such a snit at being left behind, I can’t help the tease. She caught a bad cold and then, the day before yesterday, developed an inner ear infection and was cautioned against flying.
She still dragged herself into the office, determined
His palm on my backside stops massaging and simply stays there, keeping me pressed to him. Every fibre of my being is aware of his breath by my ear, not the slightest bit ragged.
The hand on my backside, firm and sure.
The beating of his heart against mine.
The warm strength of the shoulder my cheek rests again.
Roman Rocchi is my addiction. Everything about the man thrills me. The excitement. The uncertainty. The unexpected. I don’t know where to draw the line, how much is too much. I’ll take it all and come back for more.
If he takes me right now, right here on the boardroom table, I’ll scream with desire and not give a damn who hears.
He doesn’t.
He brings both his hands to my hips and moves me out of his way so he can retrieve his jacket from the back of the chair.
I prop my trembling body up on the boardroom table, arms crossed tightly, barely managing shallow breaths.
“I suggest you pack warmly for Scotland, Ms. Lynch,” he says as he shrugs his jacket on and walks past me on the way out. “The weather’s turning and I’ve heard predictions of snow.”
7
MY STOMACH IS hard with knots by the time the plane touches down in Inverness. Roman didn’t fly with us. I haven’t seen him in weeks, not since he offered me wardrobe advice and left me in the boardroom with a tingling ass.
Celia handled our itineraries, but apparently Roman made his own arrangements. Unless we’ve assumed incorrectly. When he said he’d arranged for us to visit Kleighnorm, maybe he wasn’t including himself in that us .
I’m an assertive person and I don’t think I’d stand for being jerked about in a relationship. Not that I have hard facts to go on here. I’ve slept with one boy and three men in my life. Three men, as in exactly three times. I’ve had one boyfriend, and that was in high school.
But I don’t think I would stand for it, and I don’t think that is what Roman’s doing. I think he’s playing an intoxicating, sophisticated game.
He’ll be here.
Of course, that’s the only part I’m sure of. Whatever else may or may not happen has had me in a constant flip between thrilling dread and bone-melting flushes for weeks.
A warm hand folds over my vice-like grip on the narrow armrest.
Tones of amusement inflect Liam’s voice at my ear. “You can let go now, Kee. We landed five minutes ago.”
I give him a weak smile. We both know I’m not the least bit afraid of flying or landing. Liam’s between girlfriends again, which means he’s been around enough to notice my distraction of late.
He won’t push, though.
He never does.
When he came back, he never once asked why I’d cut him off cold. I told him eventually. I told him everything.
And I’d tell him now, too, but what is there to say? I don’t know if I want my boss to fuck me or spank me. Oh, and yes, I’m a nervous wreck because there’s a good chance he’ll just ignore me and do neither.
Somehow, I don’t think Liam would understand.
Hell, I don’t understand.
The seatbelt lights go off and we’re herded from the plane in an orderly fashion. I pull my winter coat closer at my throat. There’s a frosty bite in the wind sweeping in from Moray Firth and straight onto the runway. The temperatures have plummeted in the last week and this far north, the air is icy.
Across the Firth, snowy peaked mountain ranges dominate as far as the eye can see. Above, the sky brews a petulant, dark grey to shadow the dramatic landscape in a sight that takes my breath away.
While we’re walking, I grab my phone from my messenger bag and snap a handful of photos to send to Simone. She was in such a snit at being left behind, I can’t help the tease. She caught a bad cold and then, the day before yesterday, developed an inner ear infection and was cautioned against flying.
She still dragged herself into the office, determined
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