Hot Boss - Anne Marsh Page 0,63
of me. Carefully.
“Mmm-hmm. And how would I know you’d done that, seeing as how you didn’t invite me on this trip?”
I slide my arms around her. God, she feels amazing. “It turns out there’s surprisingly good cell phone reception there for being on a 29,000-foot mountain. I could take a picture from the base camp.”
I think she’s trying not to laugh. “The base camp’s not the top.”
“I’m sorry.” She freezes, but she doesn’t leave, so I say it again. “I’m so sorry, Hazel.”
“Say it again.”
“Which part? That I’m sorry?” Because I am. I’m so, so sorry.
“I’ll give you a hint,” she says. “I say ‘I love you, Jack.’ What do you say?”
“That I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”
Someone erases the distance between us, and our mouths meet. I missed you. It’s cautious at first, both of us waiting to see what the other does. I’m sorry. I love you. Do you love me? And then I palm the back of her neck and she works her fingers through my hair, and we yank each other closer. She tastes so fucking good, just like I remembered. Hot, wet, one thousand percent Hazel. How did I ever think I could walk away from this woman?
“I love you.” My delivery isn’t great. I’m hoarse, out of breath, pulling her so close to me that it’s probably illegal in a half-dozen states. I’d much rather show her how I feel about her than use my words. Which is why I kiss her again.
And again.
At some point we have to come up for air. I can’t stop touching her, holding her against me as I reacquaint myself with her bare skin. And her mouth, her smile, her heart.
She cups my face in her hands, making me look at her. “Were you really going to climb Everest?”
Remember that new plan? Whatever it takes?
I fish my phone out of my pocket—it’s looking a little the worse for wear thanks to my landing on it—and show her the tickets. Two first-class tickets. “I have a date and everything. You want to come with me?”
“To spend two months climbing a frozen ice mountain where people die?”
“It sounds really romantic, doesn’t it?”
She leans down and kisses me. Is that a yes? Or a not-a-chance-in-hell? “I have a better idea. After we get you to a doctor, I have tickets to Paris. I could use a date—there’s a Marie Antoinette exhibit at the Louvre and I might possibly have made a substantial donation so we can borrow a dress.”
Hot. Damn.
There’s one flaw in that plan.
“Marie Antoinette didn’t have a happy ending.”
Hazel grins at me. “Then we’ll make up a new story. A hot, kinky love story about two best friends who get it on and fall in love.”
“I love you.” I pull her down onto my chest and wrap my arms around her tight. “This is going to be one of those indissoluble partnerships.”
“I love you, too.” Her mouth curls up in a smile. “I might love you most, Viking man. What do you have to say about that?”
“I love you so much. Challenge accepted.”
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from At Your Service by A.C. Arthur.
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