Sleeping With the Boss Read online

  She laughed and he untied her warm-up pants. She stopped him before they fell down her legs. “I’ve read all about you, Will. The reporters get shots of you everywhere. I even saw pictures they’d taken of you and Beth on a beach by stalking you from a boat somewhere. I don’t want to go strolling down the beach naked if the world’s most humiliating Claire-ism is possible. I really don’t want to be in the tabloids. I know you’re used to it, but I’m not.”

  Will consciously un-balled his fists. He would never get used to it—to the prying eyes and judgmental statements. Beth used to tip off the local society reporters when they were going out and it angered him beyond belief. “I absolutely hate reporters and the press, and avoid them at all costs. Beth was the reason I was in the papers. I would never interact with them willingly, and I wouldn’t put you in a situation like that.”

  She nodded. “Fair enough.” She slipped off her shoes and shoved her pants down the rest of the way. Then she stood uncomfortably nude only a few feet from him. Hopefully, by the end of the weekend, she’d never be uncomfortable naked again.

  “Let’s go check out the beach.” He grabbed two towels on his way out the door and they wandered down the soft white sand, hand in hand. He made no attempt to hide his open admiration of her body, and it wasn’t too long into the walk that they ended up turning back around to head inside so he could give her a tour of the bedroom, with a focus on the bed in particular.

  …

  Claire couldn’t help but ogle Will’s muscular body as he sauntered into the bathroom. He undoubtedly had the finest backside ever. She couldn’t recall ever having this much fun. In fact, she was having so much fun, it was all she could do to not roll onto her belly, pound the mattress with her arms and legs, and scream into the pillow. Instead, she attempted to get out of the bed and ended up on all fours on the floor because she had jelly knees. When Will came charging out of the bathroom with a worried look on his face, she broke out into a ridiculous case of giggles.

  His furrowed brow relaxed and his dimples made an appearance. “Are you okay?”

  Still on her hands and knees, she nodded. “Oh, yeah. Just a little post-orgasm Claire-ism.”

  And that set them both to laughing.

  He helped her to her feet and pulled her against him. She ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest and down his ridged abdomen. God, what a lotto win. Body, brains, and humor. The whole shebang in one edible package.

  “Well,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “What do you want to do now? Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

  What exactly did she want? “I want a shower.”

  “Done.”

  “And food.”

  “Easy.”

  But what she wanted wasn’t easy—not really. What she truly wanted was Will. To keep getting to know him and having fun together like this. To get naked and roll around in the sand until they looked like powdered sugar doughnuts, then rinse off in the ocean and make love in the waves. But what she found herself wishing increasingly with each passing minute was that this was more than just a fling. She wanted all of him, even his heart. But that was impossible. Her future was the Cairo Museum, not William Anderson.

  Pushing down the longing for something out of reach was familiar to Claire. She’d done it her whole life. What she couldn’t suppress, though, was the hope she was feeling—something she hadn’t dealt with before. Something that made her dream about a happy ending for once.

  After a shower that left both of them satisfied, and very, very clean—especially certain parts—they shared a plate of cold chicken, Bahamian peas and rice, and white wine on the porch. The sun was setting over the ocean in brilliant streaks of tangerine and magenta, looking more like a painting than real life. In fact, at this moment, with the sea breeze in her face and this amazing man by her side, nothing felt real. Even her impending trip to Egypt. If only…

  Claire finished off her wine and set the glass next to her empty plate. God, she felt good. Too good. So good, she was willing to say what had been on her mind since before their shower, something her newfound hope had put there. “Come with me.”

  Will smiled across the small table. Wrapped only in a bath towel, and with the sunset reflecting off the skin of his face and broad chest, he looked like a bronze statue. “Where? To the beach?” He arched an eyebrow. “Back to the bedroom?”

  There it was. Her chance to play down her blurted out deepest desire, or go all in. All in. “Egypt.”

  His smile stayed in place, but everything about him tensed. Not just tensed. It was as if he had recoiled from her one, simple word. Shit. She’d rushed this. It was too soon. Hell, maybe it would never have been the right time.

  The high she had felt only moments ago plummeted out of the sky like Icarus, wings blazing. In her happiness, she’d flown too close to the sun.

  She would not cry in front of him. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, wrapping the towel tighter around her and rising from the wicker chair. “I’ll be right back.”

  When she got to the bathroom, she slumped to the floor. Surely this wasn’t a deal killer. She’d surprised him. Hell, she’d surprised herself. She did want him to go, but a trip like that was a commitment. Maybe he wasn’t ready to go there yet. After Beth had screwed him over so bad, maybe he would never be ready again.

  …

  Will paced the tile floor of the porch, feeling borderline panicky, like he did right before a mission.

  Why Egypt? There were very few places on earth he refused to go. Egypt was one of them. Never, no matter how compelling the reason, would he ever set foot in a fucking desert again unless it was to defend his country.

  Or your heart?

  Sand and heat and misery filled his memories. For years, with only a short reprieve in the middle, he’d had sand in his eyes and up his nose. Grit had coated everything he ate—every surface he touched.

  Not even for Claire would he go to a desert. Will had very few absolutes in his life, and this was one. And that was the real problem here. He couldn’t go with her, so he wanted her to stay—to give them a chance. He wanted more.

  He slumped back down in his chair and buried his face in his hands.

  This was a woman who had sacrificed her teens and early twenties to take care of a sick and dying family member. She’d kept her hope alive by dreaming of a trip to a place that had fired her imagination as a child. She’d endured a hell worse than his in many regards. Only where he’d made it through the horrors by imagining a life with Beth at the end of the nightmare, she’d had Egypt as the carrot that kept her going.

  And he’d be damned if he got in the way of someone’s dream when he’d had so many of his own shot down. He couldn’t go with her, and she deserved to know why. He had to let her follow that dream, but until that time, he’d make the most of it. Of her. Starting right now.

  “Claire, may I come in?” He rapped gently on the bathroom door. Man, he’d handled this wrong. She’d extended her trust and he’d fucking sat there stunned silent and crushed it…again. He tried the knob and it wasn’t locked. He cracked the door open an inch or so. “Hey, I really want to talk to you.”

  “Come on in.” She sounded good. Not like she was melting down.

  He pushed the door open and his heart stuttered. She was sitting on the floor, still in her bath towel, legs kicked out in front of her crossed at the ankle. Her face was a little blotchy, but other than that, there was no evidence of tears. She was tough. A fighter.

  Towel still around his waist, he sat across from her and leaned back against the cabinet. “I’m sorry.”

  She held her hands up. “No.”

  “Stop. You wouldn’t let me apologize last time at your apartment. This time, you’re going to hear me out.”

  Her mouth snapped shut.

  Oh shit. He had her attention, but what the hell could he say that didn’t fuck things up worse? He hadn’t planned this out; he’d acted on impulse…like she had. That’s
it. She’d spoken from her heart and he needed to do the same. “I need to explain my reaction out there.”

  When she took a breath and opened her mouth, he held a finger up and she fell silent.

  “I know you think it’s because I don’t want to go with you or because it’s too rushed, or I don’t like you enough, or whatever lame excuse you have for me cooked up in your head, but you’re wrong.”

  He reached out and put his hand on her slender ankle next to his thigh. “There’s only one reason I won’t go…can’t go.” He rubbed his hand up to her knee and back down to her ankle before crossing his arms over his chest. “Egypt is a fucking desert. I can’t do deserts, Claire.”

  Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

  “I want to be with you. It’s why I brought you here. You and I both have acknowledged this is special, am I right?”

  She nodded.

  “But no matter how special this is, going with you is out of the question. I swore if I got out of Afghanistan in one piece, I’d never set foot in a desert again. Well, I got out. I was lucky, but I can’t go back. Even with you.”

  “Oh, God, Will. I hadn’t even thought about that.” She may not have been crying before, but whether from relief or compassion, a tear breached the rim of her eye and slid down her face. Will kissed it away and pulled her into his arms.

  “This trip to Egypt is a pilgrimage for you and I think it’s important you go. The internship is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you’re being deployed and will be cut off from email and cell coverage. Hell, you’ll probably get sick of hearing from me within a week.”

  She laughed. “I doubt it.”

  He took her face in his hands. “Thank you for asking me. I can’t even tell you how much that means.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “But I’d like to show you. How about joining me for a swim in the ocean?”

  Will sighed with relief when she wrapped her arms around him and nodded.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Claire leaned back against Will’s chest while the water lapped over her legs and the last waves of passion subsided. The moonlight danced over the water in fragments, like her thoughts, pulling themselves back together after bliss had short-circuited her brain.

  Will moved his hands up her body and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her higher on his lap. He ran his lips over her ear, his breath sounding like the wind off the water. His erection pushed against her back.

  She shifted to look at his face. “I feel selfish.”

  He barked a laugh and squeezed her tighter. “You are so self-sacrificing, you border on having a martyr syndrome. The fact that you let me focus on you and bring you pleasure is not selfish. You’re not taking anything away from me.”

  He bit her shoulder and she squealed, body twisting, water splashing in all directions. The bite didn’t hurt, but it surprised her, and caused a jolt of excitement to zap right down where he’d touched her only minutes before.

  “Don’t worry, Claire.” He pulled her back against him and nibbled on her earlobe. “Soon, I’ll be taking, and you’ll be giving.”

  She shuddered as a pulse of desire flooded through her.

  He chuckled. “You like that idea, don’t you?”

  Nodding was the best response she could conjure. Her mouth was too dry to speak.

  “So, pending your approval, of course, since we are equal business partners here, I propose to you that I prove that I can take as well as I can give. What do you think of that, Miss Maddox?”

  His lips tasted like salt water and heaven as she turned in his arms, loving the feel of his wet, muscular body under hers. “I think we work well together, Mr. Anderson.”

  Never in her wildest fantasies, even before everything went wrong in her life, had she imagined feeling like this. Relaxed, happy, sexy… Free. As they stood to go back to the house, she stared out across the water, trying to catalog the memory for later. Without her glasses, she could see fairly well, but things were a little blurry around the edges—sort of like her conviction to leave everything behind.

  One thing she knew for sure was that nobody knew what the future held. For now, all she could do was live for each moment and enjoy Will to the fullest and let events unfold naturally.

  And she did just that. The rest of the time on the island flew by in a passionate blur. They spent the next day and night snorkeling, swimming, sunbathing, laughing, and making love in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

  Claire boarded the plane home having discovered many new things.

  Will was terribly ticklish.

  She was ticklish in certain places she hadn’t known about.

  Will’s body made an excellent table/serving dish.

  Will’s body made a great lounge chair, throw pillow, and overall playground.

  There are biting insects in the sand at night.

  Her idea to roll around in the sand was not a good one as evidenced by abrasions and bugbites.

  Sunscreen application is a long and tedious process when done solo.

  Sunscreen application is excellent fun when executed by Will—even when you end up not making it out into the sun afterward.

  Sunburns hurt.

  Bugbites hurt.

  Leaving the island to return to regular life hurt.

  Realizing she was madly and irrevocably in love with William Anderson…hurt.

  …

  After takeoff, Claire had just started to mourn the end of their trip when she met Will’s heated gaze over the small table between them. She knew that look well by now.

  He unsnapped his seat belt and without preamble, stripped down to where he was wearing nothing but an erection that made her mouth water.

  Oh, shit. She squirmed in her chair, heat flooding her body, as he stalked over to her. This was serious. She fought back a grin as he unsnapped her seat belt and urged her to her feet. “So, I take it this means I’m about to be a member of the mile-high club.” God, that sounded lame. Was that even a thing, or was it something she picked up in middle school somewhere?

  Without answering, he pulled her shirt off, and the bra, too. Then untied her warm-up drawstring, shoving her pants down her legs. “Sit here,” he said, indicating the little table between the comfy leather chairs.

  “Will that even hold my weight?” She tentatively put pressure on the table, testing it.

  “We’re about to find out.” He sat in the chair and patted the edge of the table. “Right here.”

  She sat on the table and he grinned up at her, making her heart hammer even harder than it was before. He positioned her close to the edge, then put her feet on the arm of his chair. He leaned forward, placing his warm palms on her knees and pushing them wider. “Now, Miss Maddox,” he said.

  She almost giggled at his boardroom business voice, but bit her lip so he’d keep going.

  “This is by no means the end of our collaboration on the Claire Project, but it is, sadly, the closing transaction of our business trip.” He ran his hands tantalizingly down the inside of her thighs, then back to her knees. This time she did giggle. He answered with an arch of his eyebrow, then continued. “Therefore, I would like you to be the boss this time.”

  She snorted, which wasn’t very sexy, but she couldn’t help it. His playfulness was amusing, and hot as hell. “I will gladly assume that position.”

  And that did it. They both busted out laughing then. With a wave of his hand, he indicated her vulnerable state, legs apart on the table in front of him, feet on the arms of his chair. “I think you already have.”

  Still laughing, she put a finger to her lips and pointed at the pilot’s cabin.

  He caught his breath. “No, it’s okay. He has on headphones and is under order to let us know before he comes out. Anderson policy. We sometimes conduct business during flights.”

  She conjured her most serious face. “I thought that’s what we were doing, Mr. Anderson.”

  Then it was his turn to snort—wel
l, it was more like a guffaw. “You’re right. I am awaiting your orders.”

  No way. She wasn’t much of a dirty talker and this was out of her comfort zone. He must have seen her reticence, because he reached out and ran his hands down her legs and trailed his fingers up her belly to her breasts, where he stroked her until her nipples hardened and sent bolts of heat straight between her legs. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, leaning forward to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

  His tongue was so hot and felt perfect, but it wasn’t enough. “Touch me.”

  His mouth hardened into a smile against her breast. “Where?”

  Dammit. He was killing her. “Between my legs.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “How?”

  She made a growly sound of frustration. At least he hadn’t made her get anatomically specific. “With your tongue.”

  His sexy grin emboldened her. She looked down at his erection and grinned back. “While touching yourself.”

  A surprised look crossed his face followed by that signature eyebrow arch. “Hopefully not with my own tongue.”

  She busted out laughing but her amusement turned to desire when he wrapped his hand around himself and began a slow, deliberate pumping action. It was hard for her to sit still. “That is so hot.”

  “Really? This turns you on?”

  She nodded, mouth dry.

  “As much as this?” He pushed her knees farther apart, her feet still on the arms of his chair, then leaned forward and flicked the tip of his tongue over her most sensitive part. She gasped, and he did it again. This time, she moaned.

  “That’s what I thought.” Using both hands, he parted her and looked up at her face. The cool air against her wet skin sent a jolt of heat through her, and the thought of how exposed she was caused her to squirm. The table creaked underneath her.

  “Will, I need…”

  “I know.” He lowered his head and ran his talented tongue from bottom to top several times while she held on to the edge of the table for dear life.