Office Grump An Enemies to Lovers Romance - Nicole Snow Page 0,108

sad expression that breaks my heart, and nods.

“Right. No one out there can see you, FYI. We’re too high up—”

“We’re only on the forty-seventh floor,” I say. “The buildings out there are way taller.”

He grins.

“Whatever you say, Miss Modesty. You certainly weren’t worried last night when I held you against the glass and made you watch yourself coming on my cock.”

Instant butterflies.

Until him, I didn’t even know they could be dirty butterflies, either.

He walks to the nightstand beside the bed—completely comfortable nude—picks up a remote, and the curtains close across that glass wall. “You don’t need the sheet, sweetheart. I’ve already seen you, and you don’t need to go to the office today.”

Oh—so maybe the ruler of the world is into lingering mornings?

“But it’s the first day back. All the staff should be piling in, ready to go after a long holiday.”

He moves to the window seat, picks up my dress and bra, and brings them over to where I’m still crouched on the floor. He holds the garments out, and I take them. Then he picks me up.

“Where are we—what are we—”

He lays me on the bed and slides in beside me.

“If you think people are raring to go, you don’t know anything about how miserably slow the first week of January can be. The notes for the airline presentation are done. I approved Hugo’s creatives while you were napping after we fucked the first two times yesterday. There’s nothing pressing there. Spend the first real day of the year with me. January first doesn’t count when everybody’s still hung over from champagne and ham dinners. Stay?”

Whoa. That’s one request from my boss I never saw coming.

“I don’t know. My boss can be a cyclops-sized asshole,” I say, scratching my chin in mock-thought.

“If you try to abuse the classics like that again, I’m chaining you up and reading you Homer.” He puts his arms around me and holds me tight. “And if your horrible boss tries to be a jackass again, let me know. I’ll kick his ass.”

I can’t help but giggle, and blush because he might be serious about that Homer thing. You never know.

He runs his capable fingers through my hair, soft strokes reminding me what they can do.

“What are you thinking? You look mischievous. I didn’t think a day playing hooky would make you so thrilled,” he whispers.

Yeah, now I’m smiling so hard my cheeks burn.

“I’m just amused. You admitted you need me at home,” I tell him.

He glares at me, bosshole mode activated.

“You’re an evil woman.”

I’ve got my arms around him now and hold on tighter. “But do you really need me?”

He sighs. “Yes, Miss Bristol, I can’t manage to get through a single day without you.”

I kiss his jaw and then up his chin, ending with his lips.

“Glad you can admit it. That’s progress.” I slap his chest. “Let’s get up. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Hold on. I have to check the time. If it’s too late, we may need to grab something to eat at the hospital. Jordan has to be there at nine when visiting hours start, just like yesterday. I can’t let that kid down. He already despises me enough.”

So much for the playfulness.

I lay my hand on his face. “He doesn’t hate you, Mag. I promise. He just needs to warm up to you.”

He kisses my shoulder and picks up his phone. “It’s after eight. We have to shower and get out of here.” He stands, walks toward the bathroom, looks back at me, and shakes his head.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I almost suggested we shower together to save time, but of course it wouldn’t save time,” he says with a scowl.

I smile. “Go. Before I jump in with you.”

Mag showers first, then heads out of the room. I shower and get dressed in yesterday’s clothes, which are still pretty clean because I spent so much time naked.

I bite my lip as I exit the bedroom. When I get to the living room, Jordan sits on the couch fully dressed, sneakers on, ready to go.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I hope I didn’t make us late.”

Before Jordan can answer, Mag steps up beside me and hands me a warm, disposable cup. “You’re fine. Here’s a pick-me-up. Sorry, I don’t have cinnamon.”

“No problem,” I say, slurping the coffee. I swallow the acrid brew and my face puckers. “No sugar either, huh?”

He fails to suppress a laugh.

Jordan jumps up. “Okay, Mag makes bad coffee, breaking news. Can we go now?”

“Sure,” I say, sizing him

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