“Th-thanks,” I sputter.
“You have to be more careful.” He gazes down at me, his face a mask of concern. “How does it feel?”
I flex my fingers and wince. “Not great, but I’ve had worse. It’ll be fine.”
We’re face-to-face, barely an inch apart. If I lean toward him just a few inches, we’ll be touching, his strong, muscular chest pressed against my body… He’s staring at me, too, fixed and focused, like he’s thinking the same thing.
Is he?
I watch his throat contract as he swallows – hard, and I inhale faintly. He smells amazing, like fresh clothes from the dryer and mint and a deeper, masculine scent underneath that’s all him. I want to kiss him, grab him, let him take me right here… He could push me up against the sink, pin me in place and take whatever he wants. It’s hard to breathe, and there’s a weight between my legs, like my clit has swollen in size with desire.
“Manila…” He releases my wrist, and suddenly I ache a whole lot more, though not from the injury. Damn. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Cassius,” I say, not sure where I’m going with this – there’s clearly something here, tension we both feel, but what am I supposed to say? “I—I don’t…”
Luckily I don’t have to think anymore.
Without warning, he wraps his arms around me, lifts me off the ground as his mouth collides with mine. I fold my arms around his neck and kiss him back, as hard as I can. His lips part, his tongue tangling with mine. My chest digs into his, soft against hard, and I lift one leg to wrap it around his waist. The moment I do, I feel his hard, thick cock pressed against my thigh, free underneath his loose sweatpants.
I’m lost in the kiss, oblivious to everything else around us – the water, the burn on my hand, the bacon still burning on the stove. I just don’t want him to ever stop touching me. His hands slide down my back, cupping my ass, pulling me tight against him, and I grind my hips, pinning his cock between us.
His lips are soft, his mouth hard, and his stubble scrapes my cheek as he turns to kiss along my jaw, down my neck. I gasp faintly, and –
Luca starts to cry.
Shit.
Nothing else in the world could have pulled me out of the trance I’d fallen into just now, aside from that. I pull away from him, cursing under my breath, and Cassius drops me back onto my feet.
Luca’s wailing sets off Lucie, and pretty soon they’re both howling. I sprint from the room without a backwards glance or another word.
What the hell was that?
My heart is still racing when I reach the kids. I pick up Luca first, bounce him lightly as I lean over the crib to tickle Lucie’s stomach. It takes me the better part of half an hour to calm them down, which at least gives me enough time to get my racing, out-of-control heart under control.
My body feels shaky, jittery, like I just ran a dozen miles. Adrenaline, I guess. I just keep picturing Cassius’s expression, so cold and distant one moment, then warm and concerned the next. The way he took care of me when I burned myself, the way he leapt into action, makes me think he’s used to that – taking care of people. He’s got this sweet, caring side that I didn’t see before.
But I should have. I mean, he let me stay over here, let me bring the kids along, after barely knowing me. He gave me this job, when he clearly could do without me – he seems like he keeps his information well organized without an assistant.
Why is he doing all of this?
I glance down at my T-shirt, still damp from the sink spray. And who does this belong to? His last assistant? An ex-girlfriend? What’s the story with this spare room, made up for kids? Does he have a wife, babies? It would explain the caring attitude, and the way he was used to dealing with an emergency like a burned hand…
I shake my head. No way can I get involved with a married man. If he hired me because he’s looking for a side chick, he’s got another thing coming.
Luca and Lucie finally calm down enough that I can move them into their stroller and wheel them out into the kitchen – it works in place of a high chair in a pinch.
But once I reach the kitchen, I find it empty. Cassius must have gone to finish getting ready. He ate one of the omelets, I notice, and washed and put away his plate already. The bacon was ruined – I find the remnants in the trash, and the pan soaking in the sink, full of soapy water.
I still can’t figure him out.
I eat my omelet while playing with the twins, trying not to think about him. But the second I hear footsteps in the hallway, my heart leaps into my throat, and I spin around, anxious to see him again.
“Cassius, I’m sorry about –” I pause, blinking.