“I want to hear what you’re really thinking.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re just saying that now because you’ve had whiskey and everything seems funny. Once we’re sober you’re going to be a grumpy boss man again.”

“A grumpy boss man?” He’s clearly holding back laughter.

I stand up because he can’t. Then I’m leaning on the arm of his chair, the same way Zoey did. The leather’s still warm from her butt. Mr. Rochester has to look up at me this way.

We’re so close. So close I can feel the heat coming from his body.

It’s hotter than the fireplace.

I look him directly in the eyes. The dark gaze reflects the flames. “I’d say, shove it up your ass. And then you’d say, you’re fired, Jane.”

“You want to tell me to shove it up your ass?”

“Then again maybe we can just get drunk every day. Then you’d never be angry. And I’d never have to be sad again.”

He tugs me onto his lap, and I squirm, trying to avoid hurting his leg with my weight. Only then do I feel something hard that’s definitely not his leg. “You’re always sad. And the worst part is, I want to make you happy. I promised myself I’d never go down this road again.”

“Because of the woman you loved before.”

“No,” he murmurs against my neck, and I realize we’re even closer than I thought. We’re all wrapped up in each other. He’s holding my waist and my leg. I’ve got my arms on his shoulders. “I didn’t love her. I wanted her, and I almost broke myself trying to have her.”

“You built a billion-dollar company trying to win her.”

“And how do you think you build those? By becoming someone ambitious, someone cold and hard, someone unethical. I didn’t even recognize myself by the end.”

I pull back and push a lock of dark hair from his forehead. Part of me knows I would never do this if I weren’t drunk. The other part of me doesn’t care. It feels good. Maybe it would always have felt good, if I’d have had the courage to do it before. “The playboy Beau Rochester.”

“Yes.”

“The one who had sex with lots of supermodels.”

His hand tightens in my hair. “Did you like when they touched you?”

I blink slowly. It takes me a second to realize what he means. “They made me laugh.”

“But did you like it when they touched you?”

My forehead leans against his. “They weren’t you.”

“You break me apart.”