A Sinful Little Christmas

Her smile faltered when she saw him, and not the person she’d been expecting. They stood several feet apart, watching each other. She finally spoke, making no effort to cover herself. He was grateful for that. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Alana might have looked amazing in her suit earlier that day, but wearing nothing but her undergarments and high heels, she was something else. “This is my room,” Michael told her. “Gabe arranged it. I’m staying here until I can find a place of my own. What are you doing here?”

“This is my private suite,” she told him. As if she had just realized she was nearly naked in front of him, she whipped the top blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her perfect body. She shook her head. “You need to get out of here.”

Michael made no move to leave. “Where am I supposed to stay?” he challenged. “All of my things are here. And I have a key,” he said, dangling the fob from his fingers.

She shook her head. “There must have been some kind of mistake. A mix-up. This sort of thing shouldn’t happen here.”

For once, they were on the same page. A mistake like that could be dangerous, and costly for the club, and for more than one reason he was grateful that it had been him and Alana who’d been the unwitting victims of the blunder. “I don’t know what happened, maybe Gabe put me here so I wouldn’t be using a room for guests.” He let his eyes run up and down her partially covered body. His heart stuttered in his chest as it pumped all of his blood southward. “But we can deal with it later.”

There was a knock on the door. Michael inclined his head in the direction of the door. “You expecting someone else?”

“As a matter of fact, I was.”

Michael chuckled, enjoying seeing the unflappable Alana off her game again. He headed to the door and opened it. On the other side he saw a man, just as tall as he was, just as built. The anticipation in his smile dropped as did the corners of his lips when he saw Michael standing there.

“Who are you?” the other man asked.

“I’m Michael,” he explained. “You should probably leave, though, mate. I don’t know about you, but I’m not quite looking for a three-way tonight.”

The man looked over Michael’s shoulder to Alana. “Everything okay?”

Alana, still wrapped in the blanket, inserted herself between them. “Everything is fine, Eric. I’m sorry about this, but you should leave.”

Eric took one last look at Alana, still wrapped in her blanket. “All right. If you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

Eric nodded, having lost the battle. Michael understood the disappointment the other man must have been feeling, to have such a promising night with this woman snatched away from his grasp.

Alana shut the door and headed back to the bathroom, and Michael knew that she was going to get dressed.

“Is this why I had to pick up your dry cleaning?” he teased, and she stopped and turned to face him. “So you could find the time to get fucked by some bloke named Eric?”

“It’s really none of your business,” she insisted, grabbing the dry cleaning bags from the dresser.

Michael cracked a smile. “Although I must say, you’re sending me some mixed messages. Telling me you’ll put my balls in your purse and then asking me to pick up your lingerie.” Her eyes widened as she flipped through the items. She must have forgotten the delicate nature of the things she’d directed him to pick up. “I have to tell you, though, you look good in black—” he nodded at the bra and panties she was wearing under the blanket “—but I really like the red thing.”

Alana huffed out a breath. Michael laughed, and he knew that just made her angrier. He was having fun, and it gave him a sick kind of thrill to know that he frustrated her so much.

“Don’t worry, my dry cleaning will never again be on your to-do list.”

“Too bad,” he said with a shrug and a deep chuckle.

“I’m getting dressed,” she told him, heading again for the bathroom.

“Stop,” he commanded her, his voice just above a whisper. She did as he said and turned. He couldn’t tell if the flare of her nostrils was from fury or desire. He would put his money on a combination of both. He took a step closer. “You know, this might have been a mix-up, us ending up in the same room, but there’s no reason we should squander this opportunity.”

As he stood in front of her, she tilted her head upward, looking him in the eye. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe we were both thrown together in here for a reason. Like fate.”

“You believe in fate?”

If he believed in fate, he considered it a fickle bitch, given his recent past. Especially since the first woman he’d had a sexual interest in in the past couple of months, the one standing in front of him almost naked, was his boss.

He took a step closer. The blanket she’d wrapped around herself brushed against his chest. The contact made him tense up. “I can feel the sexual tension between us, and I know you can, too.”

“Oh, you really think so?”

“I know so.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised her face to meet his. “I don’t know the reasons why, but I know you don’t want me here. But I am here, and I’m not going anywhere, so no matter how cold you are to me, or how many meaningless tasks you give me, I’m going to stick it out and do my job, and that’s to run this club like I know how.”

“This is my club,” she told him. “You’ll do exactly what I say, when I say it, and you’ll thank me for the orders.” Her voice was firm, but the tremble of her lip told him that she was unsure.

But he took a deep breath, and inhaled her scent. Light, citrusy, breezy, playful—so unlike the woman who wore it. “Sure, but you have to know that I’m not a man who takes orders.” He hooked his finger underneath the blanket she’d wrapped around her body and it fell to the ground, again leaving her in only her bra and panties.

She gasped, but made no movement to cover herself. “That’s too bad,” she told him, pulling back from his touch. “I’m your boss. And I give orders.”

“I’m just asking for a chance to do my job without you micromanaging me.”

She cleared her throat. “We’ll see how it goes. I expect to have complete oversight. But I’m sure we can come to some sort of an understanding.”

“Would that understanding include both of us staying in this room tonight? We can work out whatever this tension is between us? You’re a beautiful, sensual woman, and I want you. I know you like what you see when you look at me. Let’s explore this. See where it goes.”

She hesitated, and he wondered if she might agree. He hoped to God that she would because the desire that racked his body was bound to snap him in two.

“No,” she said firmly. Michael stepped back from her, giving her space—that was the magic word, and he took it very seriously. “You work for me.” She now looked perfectly lucid and waved her hands between them. “This can’t happen.” Pushing past him, she walked back into the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m getting dressed,” she told him, slamming the door after her. Michael went to the wet bar and picked up the bottle of tequila she’d moved earlier and drank straight from the bottle in an attempt to quiet his raging hormones. In a couple of minutes, she came back into the room, fully dressed and holding her dry cleaning bags. She was once again the unflappable businesswoman. “Listen, Michael,” she said, pointing a finger in his face. “Nothing is going to happen between us. This was all a horrible mistake.”

She left the room and slammed the door behind her. Already Michael had had two encounters with his new boss. Even though he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman, he knew that she was right. They shared an intense connection, and he knew that they would have an amazing night together, but maybe it would be best for them to remain professional. He looked down and saw the way his dick had tented his slacks. Tell that to his body.

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