That made her giggle. “You kissed me, Eli. That was you in this life.”
The moment it was out of her mouth the air between them shifted again—less friendly, sexier. Especially when his gaze snaked down to her mouth.
“Is kissing you in my marching orders for tomorrow night?” he asked, his eyes picking up a trace of heat.
She wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. No way. No how.
“Yes,” she answered. “Need to practice?”
In one motion he wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close, resting his forehead on hers. “What do you think?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” she murmured, gripping his biceps and giving him the permission he’d never asked for.
He dipped his lips to hers for a brief taste. Nothing like the intense, fiery, button-slashing kiss, but a tender, gentle meeting of the mouths before he backed away…
Too soon.
He released her, leaving her with a husky farewell. “Be safe driving home.”
She took an unsteady step backward before leaving his office. She didn’t look over her shoulder as she gathered her tote and opened the elevator, but she did angle her head to the upstairs warehouse window when she unlocked her car.
Her billionaire employer was framed by the panes, one hand leaning on the wall as he watched her leave. His face was partially hidden by the reflection of the overcast sky.
She swiped her tongue along her bottom lip, his flavor lingering there, and found herself looking forward to more.
***
One of the first changes Eli had made once he could walk on his new carbon-fiber leg was to adapt his car so he could drive. Took some doing to learn how much pressure to apply to the pedals now that he operated the vehicle with his left foot. At first, he’d driven with a series of herky-jerky stops and gos, but eventually, he’d found his rhythm.
It’d been like that with the leg, too.
After kissing Isa again and feeling firsthand the fire between them, he knew sex was an eventuality. Tonight, specifically, could usher in the perfect excuse to invite her home with him. There was only one problem. He needed it to go off without a hitch the first time. “Herky-jerky” wasn’t exactly the calling card of a good lover.
He didn’t doubt Isa would be out the door if he failed at pleasing her. It wasn’t like she was a girlfriend who would patiently wait until he found his new rhythm. Crystal hadn’t stuck it out with him—though to be fair, she hadn’t been a girlfriend when he’d returned. She’d already bailed.
Driving his black Mercedes-Maybach, he felt like a better version of himself: capable and independent. The car had been a splurge considering he’d taken it out for test runs alone and never had a passenger.
Until tonight.
There was no way he was letting Isa show up to the function alone. She hadn’t offered details on the evening, but he had pried out of her that he was supposed to be her romantic interest. They wouldn’t have a problem faking the charge between them—given his family’s reaction, it was obvious they liked each other as more than boss and assistant.
And now he was considering having sex. With his PA. He’d never been in a position to mind his manners or the corporate handbook. As a soldier, even the smallest decisions were life and death and never anything less. In the professional realm sleeping with his assistant was considered taboo, but he couldn’t get himself worked up about the dynamic. What bothered him was that he was woefully out of practice at wooing a woman.
Women were the final frontier. He’d rehabbed his physical body and he was well on his way to resolving the emotional hurdles of losing his friends. But dating? Even driving to a woman’s house to pick her up for an event was as foreign as if he was navigating his prosthesis anew.
He felt like a clumsy, shaky-legged fawn…trying to swim.
But Isa didn’t look at him like that, did she? She didn’t pity him or censor herself or try to be gentle with him. Every PA he’d had prior to Isa had been female, save one, and every one of them reacted to him professionally and courteously, but there had always been a touch of pity in their eyes.
Until Sable Concierge sent Isabella.
She was strong-willed. Drop-dead gorgeous. Sharp and intelligent. But she didn’t yield to his belligerence. She didn’t wilt at his commands. Under his hands and lips, she became pliant, but never had she looked at him with an ounce of pity.
Not a single damn drop.
He didn’t know much about her, but he guessed by her demeanor and her dress that she’d been raised in a middle-class home, with hardworking parents. Isa wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and he’d bet she was from a matriarchal family, considering she wasn’t intimidated by a billionaire Marine with a short temper.
He’d bellowed and growled at her and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow that seemed to ask, Is that all you got?