She wiggles her ass against my growing erection. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“This doesn’t feel mad.”

“That has a mind of its own.”

“You didn’t kiss me like you were mad at me.” Her voice is soft and little, pure silk.

“My mouth has a mind of its own, too.”

“You were really nice with my family.”

I grunt in acknowledgment. “I’m not going to throw you to the judgemental wolves, Sienna. But we do need to talk about things. Because even if you turn me on, you also drive me crazy, and I’m not going to skip over that just because…”

“Because?”

“God damn it, Sienna.” I growl her name, then thrust my hips against the curve of her ass. “I’m mad at myself, too. For denying us both for so long.”

“You want me, too?” Her voice cracks.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

That’s not the only barrier. “I’m too old for you.”

She snorts. Then she shoves against my chest, trying to scramble off my lap.

I hold on tight. “Don’t.”

“You…don’t.” She wriggles angrily in my arms until she’s straddling me and we’re glaring at each other eye to eye. “Don’t tease me with an erection and grabby hands, and then try to tell me you’re too old for me. Don’t follow me across the country and then—”

I take her mouth savagely, desperately.

She kisses me back with a frustrated passion that tastes both deeply, intimately familiar, and brilliantly new.

Is this what it could have been like every time we snapped at each other across my desk, her soft pink lips so fucking tempting and entirely off-limits?

My hand tangles in her hair, holding her head still so I can kiss her harder. She bites my lower lip and I grunt a warning at her not to do it again.

She does anyway, then gasps when I land the flat of my free palm on the perfect curve of her ass. A single hard swat, a spank that only turns us both on even more.

“You need to go to bed.” I’m breathing hard as I grind out the instruction.

She mewls in protest and rubs her body against me. “Make me.”

I grip her hips and surge to my feet, carrying her to the little bed tucked into the eaves. She clings to me and squeaks, my favorite fucking sound.

“Sienna…”

“Yes?” Oh, that breathy, hopeful sound will be the death of me.

I lay her down on the blankets and she arches her back, curving her tits up at me. Even under cotton jammies, I can see her nipples have pulled tight.

Planting one hand right beside her head, I lean in and squeeze her side with the other fingers. Right below the curve of her breast. So close it makes my head swim.