Falling for His Boss

by Rosie Praks

  Darcy wanted to kiss every inch of her body, leave his mark on her. The desire was so strong he pushed forward, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her from her forehead to the tip of her nose and down to her collarbone, trailing, leaving his mark on her body.

  Whitney closed her eyes, sinking into the world of fierce passion. Her world at that moment was filled with images of Darcy. Darcy’s dorky face, his sad face, his serious face, and his mundane idiot face. But what she needed now was that face to be in her vision, for those arms to wrap around her, and for him to make love to her. She wanted his skin next to hers, enticing her once more into the world of forbidden passion. She wanted him to make her heart race, touch her in places she never dared think about. She wanted those lips all over her. Now. So she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to invade her space.

  Darcy complied, inching his tongue in slowly, then capturing all her attention by molding his lips against hers, incapacitating all her other senses. Whitney moaned blissfully, in a carnal state of happiness.

  But those lips weren’t enough. She needed more. Wanted more. At a faster pace. So she pressed her body against his, searching for something, wanting that dire tension to be released. She mewed, moaned, and groaned. “Darcy.”

  Her voice dripped with desire. Her core was a burning furnace. She wanted to be quenched, needed to be quenched. And Darcy was the only one who could complete this mission.

  “Are you cold now?” Darcy asked hoarsely. Whitney shook her head and murmured incoherently, wanting only for his lips to be on hers again. “You know if you’re cold, I want to be the one to warm you.”

  Darcy threaded his fingers through her black hair and lightly caressed her cheek. He kissed her, spellbound by this enchanting night.

  Whitney responded, touching his stubbled cheek. She looked into his eyes, liquid passion pouring forth, expressing a language that didn’t require words.

  “Whitney,” Darcy whispered again, seeing that yearning in her eyes.

  “Please, Darcy,” Whitney mewed, palming his cheeks, bringing his face close until their forehead touched. “Please.”

  Her forehead was damp. Everything about her was damp. Whitney also knew she sounded and looked desperate. Because she was. She needed Darcy like her next breath. She needed him as if her life depended on it.

  Darcy’s heart drummed wildly. This was different. So very different from all the other times he’d dated. He couldn’t quite understand what was happening to him or how they had come to be in this position, but he knew he couldn’t stop now.

  When did the line between boss and subordinate blur?

  He didn’t know. And personally, he didn’t care because his mind could no longer function. What it needed now was for their bodies to merge as one.

  But it wasn’t just the connection of two bodies for the sake of hormones or being warm. Blast all those superficial excuses. This was something more. He couldn’t quite comprehend what that was yet, but it was as if there were something sacred about spending the night with his boss.

  With Whitney’s soft peck on his lips and the mewing of his name, Darcy was once again lost in this wonderland, his rational mind tugged back somewhere. He whispered back, voice dripping with desire, “Whitney.”

  Such soft, subtle words. Only two syllables, but the sound activated his heart, creating a throbbing pulse that beat in every cell in his entire being, lighting and firing all the synapses of his nerves. His lips moved subconsciously, hovering above Whitney’s. She reciprocated, bringing forward her mouth, effortlessly gliding along his. Darcy took his time, biting, tasting, searching for that nectar once more.

  Around them, the air was thick with tension, moist from the sultry night. Darcy made quick work of his clothing, discarding them in one corner, his eyes only on Whitney. He feasted on her body, relishing that soon he would get to be one with her again.

  “I want you to feel warm tonight.” He braced on one arm to support himself, hovering above her. “I’m going to enter you now. Very slowly. So you’ll remember what it’s like to feel warm.”

  “Darcy.” Somehow his words made her weak. And she cried. Silent tears slowly slid down her face.

  Darcy paused, concerned. “Why are you crying?” He gently caressed her cheek, wiping those tears with a swipe of his thumb. “Don’t you want this, too?”

  Darcy. His body heat. His masculine scent. The sound of his heart beating so close to her body. They were all engraved in her heart like a wound that refused to heal.

  “I don’t know.” Whitney shook her head, her fingers clamping around his shoulders. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, red with sheer embarrassment. “My heart feels like it’s about to burst. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Darcy smiled, relief settling in him. He grasped her hand, eyes smiling down at her, lips in a lopsided grin. “I feel the same, too, Whitney.”

  “Darcy,” Whitney softly whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I know I want you. Please keep me warm tonight.”

  Darcy chuckled, cradling her head and cuddling her. He whispered, “All you have to do is ask. I’m happy to oblige any request.”

  Whitney smiled, slowly crawling out from his embrace. Then she looked him straight in the eye, looping her arms around his neck. She kissed those lips again, feeling her heart about to beat out of her chest. “Darcy, I’m ready. Make love to me. Please.”

  Darcy’s fingers moved, forming a heated path down her thighs. He parted them in search of that forbidden entrance. One finger slid in. The heat of that action burned her core, vanquishing her senses.

  Darcy grinned sheepishly. “You’re ready.”

  He slowly entered her, giving her all his attention. He pushed forward at such a snail’s pace that Whitney gritted her teeth, wanting more.

  “Please, Darcy. More. Faster.” Her fingers were slipping with perspiration on his skin. She gripped, knowing the fast pace was about to come. But Darcy took his time, slowly building a rhythm, creating a harmonious tune that only he and Whitney could craft. Once satisfied, he increased the pace. He thrust forward, dominating Whitney, and she gave just as Darcy took.

  Whitney writhed beneath him, her body quivering. Darcy responded, keeping in tune with her as they rode the waves of pleasure together.

  That night their lips interlocked, their fingers entwined, and their bodies embraced. Under the moonlit sky, snow falling on the lonely cabin, they made love to each other until the wind died down and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Out of all the men in the ski resort, why must he be chosen? A boy. No, that wasn’t it, a man now. But hell, why did things always turn out like this?

  Max grouchily trudged through the snow at the beginning of dawn like an old grandpa. Clarice was hysterical about Whitney going missing yesterday, even though Hunter had said Darcy had rung up already, saying they were safe and would be staying in one of those cabins.

  But no, his cousin was still hyperventilating, saying she couldn’t have the wedding without her dear friend.

  Of course, Hunter kind of went mental, too, once the words wedding will be off were spoken All he did now was pacify Clarice. And his Elise was busy watching baby Conrad, while Fern was like a she-rooster, trying to keep the whole pack together.

  To tell the truth, he thought Fern was being more insane than all of them. Then again, he couldn’t decipher why Anton had decided to trek here with him to look for the missing couple.

  “There it is, the cabin.” Max smiled gleefully, finally arriving at their destination.

  “All right, let’s go in,” Anton suggested.

  “Sweet!”

  Or not so sweet at all, Max thought as soon as he opened the door and saw two bodies melded together like a cheese sandwich.

  “What in heaven on earth…?” He exclaimed, almost jumping out of his pants.

  “What is it, Max?” Anton asked curiously, wanting to peek around him to get a good look. But Max immediately bloc
ked the door with his broad back.

  “Don’t go in. Don’t go in!” Max warned, swiftly turning around to meet Anton, abashed. “Let’s head back to the resort.”

  “Max.” Anton stood there motionless, eyes boring down on him like a school master. “Let’s be rational here. We’re already here to get Whitney and Darcy. Why can’t we go in?”

  “Because,” Max tweeted under Anton’s pressured gaze.

  “Because what?”

  “Because there’s some things you, as an adult, shouldn’t see.”

  “Max.” Anton looked sternly at him. “As I recall, I was born at least a decade before you.”

  “Who cares about age? In this situation, it’s best not to interrupt them. So let’s go.”

  Without allowing Anton to say another word, he dragged the older man back to the top of the slope to wait for the pair of lovers to make an appearance.

  But dear Lord, he just wished whatever they were doing wouldn’t end up in his nightmares, especially since the image of Darcy and the witch making love was so vivid in his mind.

  God, he needed to erase that image from his mind. And the only way to do that was to occupy his thoughts with the one woman who’d been appearing in his dreams since he’d turned seventeen. Elise.

  Chapter 21

  Dawn arrived around seven the next morning. An eerie silence filled the air. And along with it came the chill, making goose bumps rise on her arms.

  Whitney opened her eyes. She was naked, embraced from behind by Darcy. Their blankets were their jackets, large enough just to cover their intimate body parts.

  Whitney hastily got up, covering her naked front with her jacket. Her abrupt action caused Darcy to open his eyes.

  “Ma’am.” Darcy rubbed his eyes. He was back to being her PA.

  As soon as that thought entered her mind, Darcy changed his behavior again. Seeing her naked back, he inched forward, embracing her from behind. He kissed her naked shoulder blade, parting her hair.

  “Whitney.” His voice came out hoarse.

  She closed her eyes, molding her body so he was flush against her. She let him kiss her everywhere. Shoulder blades, forehead, hair, temple. There were no longer any regrets. Only the sweet memories of last night.

  Darcy took as she gave. Whitney knew she should stop him, but she didn’t want to.

  One minute. Just one more minute. Then she’d stop him.

  But she didn’t stop him. She let him do as he wished. So Darcy made love to her for the second time that morning.

  During the aftermath of their intimate liaison, Whitney lay nestled in his arms, playing with his hair and the five-o’clock shadow he’d never gotten to shave from the day before. Darcy chuckled, cuddling her cold body, clasping her hands within his. His laughter vibrated in his chest. He kissed her hair, murmuring absentmindedly, “What are we going to do when we get back?”

  That question hit her hard. What was Darcy to her now? Was he merely a co-worker, a subordinate she’d mistakenly slept with?

  But it wasn’t a mistake. Not when they’d slept together three times.

  “I don’t know,” she replied honestly, fiddling with his fingers. She was nervous to admit she too was at a loss.

  The sun secretly crept under the door and through the windows, slowly highlighting the room with a warm glow. Whitney was so immersed in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the new day arriving.

  “We should head back,” she said softly, putting a stop to her inner desires. She knew if she stayed in Darcy’s arms for another minute, they’d make love again.

  Darcy restrained her, bringing her back into his arms as soon as she sat up. “I don’t want to go back yet. I want to stay like this a bit longer.” He nestled his nose in her hair, wanting this beautiful feeling to last forever. But he knew they couldn’t. Hunter was waiting for them. Everyone was waiting for them.

  But he couldn’t stop his body from wanting hers, nor his fingers from touching her. He kissed her again. And again. And again.

  “Darcy. Stop. Let’s head back. The others must be worried about us.” Whitney held him back.

  “I know,” he said glumly, finally giving in to reality.

  Both silently wrapped up their things and, once fully dressed again, headed out the door.

  Standing outside with their ski equipment in hand, Darcy was mesmerized by the woman he’d made love to all of last night. In the early morning, Whitney was beyond any sight he’d ever feasted his eyes upon. Set against the backdrop of the scenic white mountain, she stood with her black hair in disarray, mussed from their night together. In his eyes, this woman was no longer a witch, but an ethereal being descended from above. He couldn’t stop himself from touching her. He was addicted to her.

  “Do you want me to piggyback you again?” he asked instead, restraining his inner demon.

  “No. I think I should be fine today.” Whitney looked away, seeing the desire building in those hazel eyes of his again. She tried testing her sprained foot as a distraction. “It doesn’t hurt as much as yesterday.”

  Darcy nodded, knowing fully well he should just give up. He swallowed his unbridled desire and walked beside her.

  Soon they both fell silent, both minds occupied with thoughts from last night.

  What’s going to happen to us? Darcy thought. What am I to Whitney now?

  Darcy stole a glance at her. She was biting her pink lips. Lust surged, making his loins throb. He had to touch her.

  Watching her swing her arms back and forth as she walked, he slowly followed her rhythm until they were in tune with each other. Then, as she swung back, he caught her, entwining those soft fingers with his.

  Whitney glanced at him, unsure why he was holding her hand.

  “I thought you might need help with walking,” Darcy immediately explained, shoulder rubbing against her small one.

  “I’m fine.” Whitney gently nudged back, mouth stretching into a contagious smile.

  “Still. I think in snow like this, it’s safer to hold hands while walking.” Darcy smiled broadly.

  “If you think so.”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  They both looked at each other for a second, then turned back shyly to look at the passing scenery, their hearts drumming wildly. Yet their hands were still entwined.

  “Umm…” Whitney sighed, worrying her bottom lip. “I hope they’re not too worried about us.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the resort in no time. The wedding isn’t until tomorrow anyway.”

  “I know. But I’m still mad at myself for getting us lost.”

  “If I recall, I was the one who got us lost.” Darcy corrected her.

  “It’s my fault for wanting to ski down that slope.” Whitney tried to play nice.

  “All right, we’ll conclude it’s your fault, then.” Darcy relented.

  This came as a surprise to Whitney. She didn’t expect him to put the blame on her. “Hey, I was only saying it just to play nice.”

  “But you want to admit it’s your fault.” Darcy defended himself. “I was just playing along.”

  “You are such a playboy,” Whitney grouched.

  “I know. I’m a Casanova. That’s what Hunter likes to call me.” Darcy grinned.

  Whitney shook her head and walked on, the grouchy mask still on her face.

  “Oh, come on. I was only joking.” Darcy blocked her path. “I hate it when you make that face. It scares me. Come on, laugh. Smile for me.”

  “Why do I have to smile for you? We’re not dating. We’re not a couple.” Whitney tossed out her answer, wanting to extract her hand from his, but Darcy wouldn’t let her.

  “After spending time together last night, you think we’re nothing?” Darcy brought his face forward until he was an inch from her. This close, she could see the flecks of brown in his hazel irises. “Do you really think we’re nothing to each other?”

  Whitney didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her senses were all clogged up, gone hay
wire, when Darcy was this close.

  “Come on, smile. Smile,” Darcy said, brandishing his usual dorky face.

  But still Whitney couldn’t see that dorky face or hear his comment. All she heard were those words. After spending time together last night, you think we’re nothing?’

  Was this their relationship? Were they an item now? Would she feel warm again now?

  “Oh, smile for me. Look at my face. Follow my smile…” Darcy continued. When he saw Whitney only look at him, that grim expression still on her face, he decided to take drastic action.

  “Oh God, Whitney, what’s that? It’s a snake. A snake!” Darcy shouted, pointing to something slithering in the snow. He bolted from his spot, jumping up on the rock and hiding behind her.

  Whitney screeched in surprise, waking from her thoughts. She jumped around like her socks were on fire, then straight into Darcy’s open arms.

  “Where, Darcy, where? I don’t like snakes. I don’t like snakes.” She hid her face in the crook of his neck, body trembling in fright.

  “Nah, nothing. I was only scaring you.” Darcy pulled her chin and grinned. “You looked too funny when you made that scared face.”

  “Darcy, I hate you.” She sent him a death glare.

  “Oh, I love you, too, Whitney. Always.” Darcy winked.

  Whitney was seething as she stood there watching Darcy pick up their discarded equipment.

  The desire to strangle him was so strong the skin on her palms itched. Whitney knew Darcy was only playing a prank on her, but today it affected her. Really bad.

  Yes, her emotions were in a jumbled mess, especially after last night. She didn’t need any additional factors to confuse her heart. If only their relationship were like before, then his head would be her soccer ball by now. But somehow something had changed. And she still couldn’t quite figure out what that something was. What was he to her?

  “I’m sorry, Whitney. Forgive me. You looked too stressed a minute ago. I wanted to lighten the mood a bit, that’s all.”