7. Isabelle

Chapter 7

Isabelle

Once we finish talking about his research priorities for the next quarter, there's nothing to do but leave his office.

I know that.

So I stand.

But I don't leave. I can't. It's too hard. Why is it so hard to tear myself away from him?

I've avoided making eye contact since he told me we wouldn't actually be working closely together for the next while, but now I look straight at him. I want his last memory of me to be a good one.

"Thank you for everything this week," I say. "For the advance on my pay and the accommodations. I'm so grateful to you."

His thick brows pull together fiercely. "Isabelle, you don't have to be grateful to me. I invest in my employees. It's truly the least I can do. Especially?—"

He cuts himself off.

"What?"

"Nothing."

But it's not nothing. I can feel it. There's something pulling us together like we're connected somehow.

I circle around his desk, slowly. Waiting him to tell me to stop, to order me back to my desk.

He doesn't stop me. He even turns slightly in his chair, his long, thick legs sliding into view.

I stop just short of where he's sitting.

His eyes flare so bright, like a sun, hot and intense. The heat of it swirls around me and pulls me right into his orbit.

I shift forward, my knee brushing against his thigh, and it burns.

"Do you know what you are doing?" he asks hoarsely.

I shake my head. No. "But it feels right."

"Oh, my brave girl." His voice is soft and tender, but his expression is neither of those things.

He looks, suddenly, like a wolf.

And I feel like prey.

He gives me a dark look. "I've been warring with myself about what to do here. Had convinced myself we needed distance. But now you've come around my desk. You don't want distance, do you?"

I shake my head. No. His hand wraps around my bare leg, holding me in place, holding me right against him.

My heart is hammering in my chest.

"Little one, I feel it, too."

"What is this?" I ask, my voice small and confused.

With his thumb, he draws a circle on the top of my thigh. "Something very off-limits."

"Because you're my boss."

"Yes."

"I don't want to lose my job."

He groans. "Oh, sweetness, you won't. I promise you that. You can take whatever you need from me, and it'll be our secret. You can even push me away when you are done, and I will never punish you for any of that."

"Why would I push you away?" My head spins at the thought, panic swirling in my chest.

"Because arousal can be a fleeting thing, little one." He groans as I lean fully against him, and then I'm in his arms and on his lap. I squirm against him, trying to get comfortable.

I want to crawl out of my skin. I want to plaster myself against Mr. Emerson.

I want…

He cups my face in his hands. "What do you need, Isabelle?"

I look at his mouth.

His lips are beautiful. Fiercely sculpted, but up close, I realize how soft they look. That feels like a dangerous secret. I like it.

And now those lips are moving, his words breaking through my hazy thoughts. "Do you need a kiss?"

I shudder and nod, but then heat flames up my cheeks. "I don't know how."

"You've never been kissed?"

I shake my head shyly. "No."

His thumb drags along my cheekbones and a smile plays against his stern mouth, as if it's an unfamiliar shape for those lips to make. "I am sorry that you had to wait this long for your first kiss. But I'm not sorry you saved it for me."

"You'll teach me how to kiss?" My words come out slowly, because I feel like I'm dreaming.

He chuckles as he brings my mouth to hover ever so close to his. "I won't need to teach you, little one. You'll figure it out on your own, I promise. Just remember, tongues are for tasting."