himself hard within her body, holding stone still as he emptied himself.
A part of her, she dimly thought, then accepted him into her arms when he collapsed. Absently she stroked the slick muscles of his back, wanting only to keep this connection from fading so reality couldn’t enter.
He groaned and moved against her but didn’t try to leave. His mouth traveled up her neck, settling below her ear as he nuzzled close. Sensation stabbed into her nipples, and her hips lifted in response.
With an appreciative chuckle, he slowly pulled away, then disappeared into the bathroom with his pants after a quick brush of his lips over hers. Who knew when sex worked, really worked, that there were so many shocks along the way? With this man, only this one, sex had been one incredible sensation after another.
She lay in the bed, absorbing the quiet, but as she stared at the chiffon strips of material that formed her canopy, tension rapidly spilled back into her system.
What was she doing here? In the rush of sensations, thinking had been beyond her. As panic set in, she jerked to her feet, rushing through the room to grab clothes and drag them back on.
Her regular clothes didn’t feel nearly secure enough, so she pulled a sweater from the closet and slid her arms inside, tightening its hold on her like a straitjacket. She stared into the dark depths of the closet, grateful for the nothingness for a moment.
Until her gaze focused in on her work clothes: suit jackets, A-line skirts, dress pants, severe button-down shirts. Work. She was a different person there. He was a different person—her boss.
The panic spread, making it hard to breathe. She didn’t even hear Sloan until he was right behind her. “Ziara, are you okay?”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t with her throat closing. When his arms reached around to circle her waist, she jumped, whirling toward him, then backing into the darkness of the closet in a misguided effort at hiding.
“Hey, it’s all right,” he said, his voice still as husky as when he’d been moaning in her bed. “What’s the matter?”
Her head started to shake back and forth. “I can’t do this. I really can’t. We just can’t do this.”
She realized her eyes had closed, enfolding her in the darkness. After a deep breath, she opened them to focus on Sloan’s face just inches from hers. His breath warmed her cheek.
“Talk to me, Ziara.”
Sucking in air seemed a herculean task, but she managed, calling on years of maintaining a perfectly calm demeanor. When she could finally focus on Sloan in front of her, she took in his pale features without the protection of her normal walls. The thought almost started the panic again, but she shoved it away, tucking it down in a teeny tiny box to deal with later. Much later.
“I’m s-sorry...” she stuttered. “I’ve never had, whatever that was...”
“I think you had a panic attack,” Sloan said. His shoulders dropped as he relaxed, though his hands continued to cup her face. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” No, absolutely not.
“Want to tell me what brought that on?”
“I...I...” Just one more deep breath. “I guess it just hit me. What happened. What—what we’d done.”
He nodded as if her stream of consciousness made any sense at all. “Come here,” he said.
When she started to follow him, she realized her muscles had turned into Twizzlers. She walked, but it took all her concentration to keep everything from wiggling all over the place. Wow. Since when did sex turn people completely unstable? Of course, she’d felt that way ever since she’d met Sloan, so this wasn’t something new.
He led her to the overstuffed reading chair in the corner of the bedroom, where he settled and pulled her into his lap, all in one motion. Protest wasn’t an option. He simply did what he wanted.
Unconsciously her fingers made short, light strokes across the top of his pecs, exploring the light smattering of hair that rested beneath them.
“I’m going to ask one more time,” he said gently. “What’s going on in that little worry factory in your head?”
Any other time, she would have smiled at the analogy, because it was pretty close to accurate. But right now she couldn’t. “Sloan, this is completely wrong—”
“Doesn’t feel that way,” he said, his mouth nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
The shivers he elicited felt so good, but she gallantly reached for control. “Stop,” she said, proud of her firm, no-nonsense tone, though her attempts to stand were promptly thwarted. “Sloan, you’re my boss. I can’t believe I lost my head long enough to forget that.”
“I can.” She didn’t appreciate his grin. Her stern stare changed his tune. “Look. I understand this is a little unusual. But the fact is, I’m not technically your employer. Vivian is. And—” he continued a little louder when she would have argued “—I’m working with you temporarily. Once Abigail retires, you’ll go back to working in Vivian’s office.”
Her frown drew tighter as she realized he hadn’t come to the same conclusions she had. Vivian wasn’t going to keep her on, no matter what. Better to change tactics. “You’ll abandon the company?”
Luckily Sloan kept a hold on her when he jerked to his feet or she would have fallen. But he quickly let go to pace several feet away. He didn’t give her a chance to get steady before he started speaking, his voice rough and low. “What the hell? Why would you think that?”
“I...I didn’t mean...” Maybe it would be better to keep her mouth shut. She truly wasn’t sure where the question had come from, except she knew Vivian hadn’t been worried about Sloan being around long-term. She chose the safe route. “I know you have other companies, other projects.”
“Yes, but my father’s company means a hell of a lot more to me than those.”
Immediately guilt settled in Ziara’s stomach. In her own panic, she’d forgotten the whole reason Sloan was even at Eternity Designs. “I’m sorry, Sloan.”
For a moment he didn’t move, his tall body a looming tower, his head lowered as if in grief. But when his head lifted once more, none of that emotion showed on his face. He crossed the short space between them to take her once more in his arms. “Look, this will be fine. I’m only your boss for a couple more months, at the most. Until then we’ll keep this strictly out of the office.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if she accepted his reasoning simply to give herself permission to stay right where she was, burrowed deep in his warmth and masculine scent. But for once she was going to do what she wanted, not what the job required. “Agreed,” she whispered.
After a thorough kiss, Sloan cocked his head to one side. His nostrils flared as he breathed deep.
“What’s that smell?” he asked.
Sniffing, Ziara caught a whiff of Sloan’s citrusy scent, followed quickly by the sharp tang of burning cheese.
“Oh, no,” she said, rushing toward the hall. “The lasagna.”
Ziara was able to salvage most of dinner because only the outer edges had burned. Sloan found this very amusing and teased her as they ate.
“You are a great cook,” he finally said. “Who taught you?”
She picked up their plates and crossed to the sink, feeling a little too vulnerable still to face him. “I taught myself.” Turning on the water, she rinsed the plates. “My mom...worked a lot. I had to either cook or live off cheese and crackers.”
Not wanting