His Glorified Maid

Seventeen

Michaela stood outside of Carlos' room. When Dan had passed along the message, her body felt a shiver of anticipation rush through her. Then the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. They hadn't even left the harbour and already he was summoning her to his room.

When he answered the door to her thumping knock, she found herself lost in those clear eyes of his, momentarily forgetting her anger. She heard his deep voice whispering in hers, 'Distance is the last thing I want Michaela.'

And what sane woman would want distance from a man like him? He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. And his smile - it changed him from an untouchable god-like man to a touchable one. She knew first-hand what a touch from him could do to her body. He had left her drowning with a need so deep she had silently begged him to give her release.

Just thinking about it now brought a rush of need to her core, and that was part of the reason she was so angry with him. He knew what he did to her, and he knew her rule around dating the boss.

If he sensed her mood, he gave no indication as he looked down on her in amusement. She was struck again by his nearness and had to fight to hold on to the anger.

"Hello, Mr Everton," she said smoothly, professionally despite the conflicting emotions he aroused in her.

He frowned, annoyed at her formal address and she got a childish kick out of it. "Are we back to that again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sir." She could tell her feigned ignorance annoyed him even more when his eyes darkened. She could tell it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge and she didn't know what to expect if she did, and yet she was tempted to do so. If she shoved him over the edge, then maybe he would stop messing with her.

"Sir?" he enquired with a raised eyebrow.

Before she could respond, his hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her into his room. The suddenness of the movement had her falling and she reached out with both hands to minimise the impact. And that's how she found herself braced against Carlos' warm, hard body once again, while his name fell from her surprised lips.

"That's more like it."

She tried to scowl, but she couldn't quite make herself believe she was angry now that she was in his arms. Despite herself, she was softening against him, reveling in the spike of butterflies. This time when she slowly – and reluctantly – pulled away, he let her go and she clasped her fingers together to stop herself from reaching for him again.

She studied his thick, dark hair that begged her to run her fingers through it. His hard-lined chest was hidden from view behind a shirt the colour of twilight. She liked him in the dark colour as it brought out the blue flecks in his thickly lashed grey eyes. She followed the line of his lean torso, her eyes kept travelling down with female curiosity born of desire, down over a relaxed pair of shorts that didn't hide the muscle in his lean legs.

Oh boy, she thought when she heard him cough. She bit into her lower lip, as she fought to drag her wandering eyes back to his face. This wasn't her. She would not let her ridiculous infatuation get the best of her.

"I'm not the easy-going, enjoy-the-moment type of girl, so this," she gestured between them, "is likely to hurt me when you move on. I have set boundaries to keep my heart and my livelihood safe and I need you to respect them."

Carlos lowered his lips to kiss her forehead before resting his own on hers. "No."

He sounded so final, that she flinched.

"I'll move slower, so you have time to catch up, but I'm not walking away, Michaela."

"Catch up?" she asked more confused than ever. She had set the rules before she even knew they needed setting. Who could have believed Carlos Everton would look at her twice? He usually dated women who were basically the female equivalent of him: beautiful, poised, refined and wealthy. None of this was making sense. And it was nigh on impossible trying to think logically around him.