Your Boss Is Damned Lucky

"Jesus, Emmy." A low rumble vibrated in his chest, the primitive sound sending goose bumps racing across my skin. "Your boss is damned lucky."

In a daze, I watched James's body lower to mine, my legs sliding apart to accommodate the width of his hips. 

My muscles strained with the urge to lift toward him, to hasten the contact between us that I'd been craving since I first laid eyes on him. 

Lowering his head, he took my mouth again, bruising my lips with a fine edge of violence.

Abruptly, he yanked himself away, stumbling to his feet.

I lay there gasping and wet, so willing and ready. Then I realized why he'd reacted so fiercely.

Someone was behind him.

Mortified by the sudden intrusion into our privacy, I scrambled up and back into the armrest, yanking down my top.

"…two o'clock appointment is here."