I bite my lip, feeling his hard body beneath his slacks and dress shirt, unable to pull my hands away from him. He doesn’t move either, his body still pressed into mine in a way that’s making me forget about the throb in my ankle.

Another noise from inside the office breaks the spell. He pulls back, putting his face close to the window and banging against the door. “Hey! Let us out!”

Or don’t. You could just come back in the morning, after we’ve had to resort to the whole naked bodies thing...

The janitor looks up and walks over to let us in. The door opens and he gives us a strange look.

“What were you two doing out there? It’s freezing?”

“No shit,” says Adam. “I’m going to give you a big fucking bonus. What’s your name?”

The janitor raises his eyebrows. “Curt. Curt Lowe…”

Adam claps him on the back. “I’ll wire it to your bank account, Curt.”

The janitor watches in astonishment as Adam and I grab our things from our offices and meet back by the exit.

“Come on, I’ll help you to your car.”

“It’s okay, I can manage on my own,” I say. I wish I could take the words back as soon as they leave my mouth, because the truth is I would love to have one last excuse to put my hands on him and have his hands on me.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he says firmly.

I lick my lips. “Okay then…”

When we reach my car he positions himself between me and the door before letting me in. “Gage is always complaining that I never bring anyone to the house. What do you say you come by tonight and spend Christmas Eve with us? You can watch him open his present.”

“I couldn’t impose like that. Thank you, but really, everyone from the office will be worried about me too. I should really just try to get to the party before it’s over.”

“Come to my house, meet my son, and then we can go to the party afterwards if you still want to. I’ll have the babysitter watch the house while he sleeps.”

I can’t fully explain my hesitation. I don’t have a boyfriend, I don’t have any real obligation to be at the party, but I still feel afraid of him. I’m not worried that he will try to murder me or something, I’m just scared that a man as powerful and dominating as him will suck me in and spit me out, leaving me powerless to control my fate. There’s so much command in his eyes that he could tell me to strip off my clothes right now and I don’t know if I’d flat out refuse. Then again, that might have more to do with how drop-dead gorgeous he is.

“Okay,” I say finally. “I’ll go with you.” What am I doing?

“Good. We’ll take my car.”

His car is some kind of exotic high-performance vehicle. It’s low to the ground, sleek, and the seats automatically adjust when I get inside to give me the right amount of legroom. I raise my eyebrows.

“I took you for a luxury car kind of guy,” I say as he starts the engine. It roars so loud that the whole parking garage must shake.

“I guess you could say I have a wild side,” he says, smirking.

I’m a little sorry that he’s not able to show me what the car can do because the streets are so crammed with people going to Christmas parties and trying to reach family members before tomorrow morning. I look over at him as we wait for a red light. The scarlet glow of the light gives an ominous cast to his features that makes me uncomfortable and excited at the same time. Something about him thrills me in a way I’ve never been excited by before in a man, and it’s not just how gorgeous he is.

He has a hint of something behind his eyes and in the way he commands a room, a promise, a promise that sex with him would not just be sex. It wouldn’t be sleeping together. If I went to bed with him, he would fuck me. He’d make my toes curl with a whisper. He’d touch me in ways I’ve never been touched and ruin sex with other men for the rest of my life. He would be a devil between the sheets and he wouldn’t stop until I was moaning his name into my pillow.

I squeeze my thighs together, moving a strand of hair behind my ear. I really think I know all that just from the way he looks at me? I feel silly for a moment until he glances over at me again and I see it all again in his gaze, clear as night. He would do all that and more. He will, if I let him. The question is, am I going to let him? Having wild, crazy, and dirty sex on Christmas Eve has never been a tradition of mine. In fact, having sex in general is very far from a tradition for me. It’s more like a once in a long while kind of thing.

We pull into a parking garage below a tall skyscraper. He moves to open the door for me after we park, leaning down to help me get out of the car. I don’t bother telling him that my ankle feels much better. Having his strong arm around me again feels good, and I’m already wondering how I’m going to go the rest of my life without having his powerful touch whenever I need it. I can tell he’s the kind of man who takes care of a woman. So why do I still feel a lingering sense of unease, like something so close to fear that I could almost confuse it with anticipation? It’s almost like the feeling on a roller coaster when the coaster is slowly pulled up the track, and every clink of the chain means the fall is only going to be that much faster, that much more terrifying. And that much more exhilarating.

But what If I’m misinterpreting all of his signals? What if he’s actually planning to have me meet his son, open some presents, and then wish me a good night without so much as a peck on the cheek?