Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 16

A soft touch registers on my head. The feeling of soft fingers combing through my hair. A gentle smile curves at the corner of my lips, a gentleness, calmness, washing through my body. I pull in a deep breath and let it out softly, the smell of cologne and spices filling my senses.

Mmmm smells nice.

Another sigh leaves me, cuddling my cheek further into the couch. A soft groan passes through my lips as the similar feeling of fingers threads through my hair again. Beneath me, something shifts and a soft groan leaves me as I shift my head. The sound of pages moving echoes from above me and my eyes flutter. The feeling of fingers running through my hair repeats and I force my eyes open. Sunlight spills in through the small windows of the jet and I groan, squinting my eyes to try and lessen the amount of bright light. My eyes scan across the area of the jet, the same barista flight attendant lady glaring back at me from where I'm laying. Why do they all glare at me? I've done nothing wrong.

The sound of pages turning makes me focus on my body. I'm supposed to be sitting, but when I look down at my legs, I'm curled up, laying sideways on the couch. My brows pull together in confusion. Wasn't I sitting up? I let out a gentle breath, allowing my eyes to trail up my body. My head is placed on something. I'm not just laying on the couch. I look down and refrain a gasp from leaving me. I'm laying on a pair of legs. They're definitely not mine. And definitely not a pillow. The fabric of black dress pants is pressed against my cheek and I suck in a breath, holding it. My eyes slowly trail upwards. My heart stops in my chest, my eyes widening in shock and worry.

"Good morning, ragazza carina," Dawson's rough, gravelly voice drifts to my eyes as I stare up at him. I'm laying in his lap. I slept on Dawson's lap. Oh fuck. I'm laying in my boss's lap!

I stare up at him. The sight of him is stunning. He's very handsome. With his sharp jawline and piercing blood red eyes. The neatly trimmed stubble that covers his jaw perfectly and trails across his upper lip. A few strands of dark oak brown hair fall over his forehead and I refrain my arm from reaching up so I can brush the misbehaving strands away with my fingers. He's holding the same book in his left hand, his eyes drifting across the pages like I'm not laying in his lap. His right hand flexes as he lifts it and drags it through my hair again, starting at the roots and combing through my hair. Which is now down? When did I put my hair down? He looks so casual as he threads his fingers through my hair and reads his poetry at the same time. My eyes soak in every feature of him from this angle. My mind at peace and heart beating steadily. A warmth flows through my veins at his actions. Butterflies flutter around in my stomach and I mentally yell at myself to move, but my body won't listen.

I'm too comfortable. Too relaxed to move a single muscle. A soft sigh leaves my lips, my eyes, against my wishes, falling closed with relaxation as he brushes his fingers through my hair again. If only I could wake up to this everyday. "How long have I been...?" My voice trails off. It's gravelly, definitely a give away that I've been sleeping. Dawson's eyes trail away from the pages of the book he's holding with his left hand and down to where I'm rested on his lap, "About two hours now." He answers softly, a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. Even though I'm awake, he continues to comb his fingers through my hair and the feeling makes my eyes want to roll back and melt into his body to fall back asleep. For hours.

I could sleep for hours in his lap.

My eyes widen even more at the amount of time that I've been sleeping in his lap. That sends my body finally moving. I push myself up off his lap, "I'm so sorry—" Dawson just lets his hand fall from my hair to my neck and then shoulder. Goosebumps spread across my skin at the contact, heat blooming under my skin, so much I feel like laying my head back down on his lap and falling back asleep.