Wanting My Assistant

Chapter 27

My eyes flutter open, the rain still pouring down on the windows, the cloud dark and angry. A soft groan leaves me as I try to blink away the tiredness from my eyes. I shift in on the couch and—this isn't the couch.

   My eyes widen. I'm in the bed.

   I shuffle but something tightens around my waist and my muscles freeze. The mattress beneath me creaks, the air conditioner kicking on and blowing freezing cold air. A few images from last night come crashing into my mind and a quiet gasp leaves me.

   Oh no...I'm sleeping in the same bed with Dawson. I'm in the same bed as my boss.

   My fingers dust over warm skin and my heart beat skyrockets. A deep soft groan dusts over my ear, hot breath warming my neck. A gasp passes through my lips. Oh my god. I'm sleeping with my boss. My hand wraps around the muscular arm latched around my waist and try to pry it off my body. But against my motives, it tightens around my waist, pulling me flush against Dawson's muscular, hard, warm body. I try to wiggle my way out of his steel like grip but he groans again and my whole body goes tense when I feel something hot and hard pressing against my back.

   "Stop moving." His tired, gravelly voice rasps in my ear and my blood rushes hot. Heat floods my body, and my mouth dries.

   This is...different.

   My body is on fire. Being pressed up against Dawson? Feels like cuddling close to the warmest thing. Safe. I feel safe, too.

   A shaky sigh passes through my lips, my mind churning as I try to remember last night. As Dawson shifts behind me, pressing his face into my neck, his stubble scrapping the soft skin, small little memories start to appear in my mind. I kissed him. Fuck. I kissed Dawson.

   I don't feel bad about it though. A little embarrassed. But I don't feel guilty for it. Especially not when he licked my tongue in a thrusting movement and the way his neatly trimmed beard scratched against my skin in the most pleasant way.

   That was the best damn kiss I'd ever had.

   I was all over the place. I think I drank at least a half a bottle of something. And at least seven shots of Tequila. My nose scrunched when I remembered licking the salt from that one man.

   My head pounds and I groan before rolling my head to lay back against the pillow. Dawson's arm doesn't move from the steel like grip but now his hand lays splayed over my stomach. My eyes widen when they dart down to see the t-shirt I'm wearing now bunched around my waist. My ass on display. "Oh, my god," I breathe, turning and looking over at Dawson. He's shirtless, as usual, his hair messy and eyes still closed, his chest rises and falls with steady breaths but I know he isn't truly asleep.

   My eyes fall to his lips. My tongue darting out to wet my own at the sight. Kissing him doesn't sound awful, not at all. I would gladly kiss him again—

   No. I can't. He's my boss. And we can't do this. It's still...not right. I turn my head back to its original position, staring at the kitchen as I lay here.

   "If you wake up tomorrow and still want another kiss, I'll be waiting."

His words echo in my head and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I try to peel his arm off me again but he just grunts his displeasure and clings to me tighter. "You climbed into my bed," he rasps in my ear and shivers erupt through my body, heat pooling between my thighs. He presses his hips into my ass and my throat constricts. Heat races through my veins. He's long and hard against me, and I'm burning hot, in a room that's easily sixty degrees. "You caused this," he murmurs, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear.