My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

8. Woman Has Inappropriate Thoughts About Her Hot Boss

"Where am I?" Andie mumbled. "Oh, my god. I'm blind." She shook like Han Solo when he emerged from his carbonite prison.

"You are in my office. On my sofa." Oliver's sexy baritone. Yum. Wait, I'm supposed to be freaking out, Andie reminded herself. Someone covered her with something warm and soft. It smelled like him, intoxicating—like cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven. Her mouth tasted like oranges.

"What am I doing here? Why aren't I in the hospital or dead? I thought I was going to die. Am I blind?" Her voice warbled.

"Your vision will return in a few minutes. It is merely a side-effect of the antidote."

"Antidote? Did someone poison me?" She tried to push herself up, but her arms were as limp as jellyfish tentacles.

"Do not overexert yourself."

The room took shape. First there was a fuzzy light. Then Oliver's face shimmered and slowly came into focus. He sat on a chair across from her, looking ... worried? And something else as well. Guilty? His office was different. He'd taken down the framed covers of Sterling. His creepy carnivorous plants still lined the shelves, however.

As Andie regained feeling, her arms prickled as if being jabbed by a million tiny needles.

"Feeling better?"

"Not really," said Andie, finally lifting an arm to rub her sore neck.

Oliver tugged at the collar of his starched white dress shirt. The outline of his muscular arms and torso showed through the thin fabric. Where was his jacket? Oh, that's what was covering her, keeping her warm.

"Can you sit?"

"I think so." She turned on her side and nearly rolled off the edge. Oliver caught her and set her down in a seated position as if she weighed nothing at all. "Thanks." Something niggled at her. She was pretty sure there was an important question she should ask, but what was it? Why couldn't she think straight? It was as if there was one of those cellphone jammers lodged in her right temple.

Oliver searched Andie's eyes. God, his eyes were incredible. And his mouth. And his chest. Even his earlobes were sexy. That strange, freaky, yet amazing blue light crackled in his irises. Andie leaned in to get a better look. So mesmerizing! Like being held in the thrall of a magician right before he saws you in half. Maybe that wasn't the best analogy. The light arced between them and drew her closer. Closer. What would it feel like to have his lips against hers?

WAIT!

No! Wait for what? Bad Andie protested, as she did whenever Andie thought before acting.

I should not be wanting to kiss my boss. Especially one who might've just tried to poison me, no matter what he looks like under his super-thin white shirt or whether he smells like fresh baked goods or whether his eyes are literally crackling with desire. This is actual life, NOT A ROMANCE NOVEL! I am obviously losing all sense of judgment! One does not want to kiss one's boss. Period.

You were finally acting almost normal! said Bad Andie.

Normal people do not act like sex maniacs at the office.

You need to get out more.

Oh, like you've been to more offices than I have? Because we are the same person, and you can't go anywhere without me! 

You can believe that if it helps you sleep at night.

Whatever. Ignoring you now.

A flash of a now shirtless Oliver flashed across Andie's consciousness. Why was Bad Andie so good at conjuring libidinous images?