I Slept With My Boss Then Married Him
Chapter 8
"You're... not asleep?"
Maximilian Carter was still awake—which was saying something, since he was usually in bed by nine-thirty. Now it was nearly midnight.
"Hard to sleep with all this heat," he murmured, his warm breath brushing Elizabeth Cox's ear.
Her heart fluttered at how close they were, and his whispered words only made it worse. She stayed silent, stiff, barely daring to move as their breathing grew heavier in the dim light.
Maximilian's hand wandered somewhere it shouldn't, pulling Elizabeth closer against his chest as she tried to shy away from his burning touch. "I'm really tired," she whispered. Her small hand clutched his shirt, her voice soft and a little nasal, and the sound made Maximilian's chest ache with want.
"Can you really sleep like this?"
"Mmm," Elizabeth nodded nervously, her tiny toes curling tight as he lifted her leg. She stopped him, whispering, "We shouldn't."
"You woke me up. You can't refuse me now," Maximilian murmured, nibbling at her flushed earlobe. His husky voice sent her pulse racing.
She regretted tossing and turning earlier. Now her thoughts of home faded as Maximilian's presence overwhelmed her senses. He wrapped her in his arms, pressing her soft, warm body beneath his.
Elizabeth's shirt might as well have not existed. Their bodies melded together, warmth and breath tangled.
"It rained tonight. Let's sleep. You might catch a cold," she trembled, clinging to his wandering hand.
In the dim light, his hot palm against her skin pulled a soft sigh from her. Maximilian swallowed hard, moving in and capturing her lips with his. "Let's warm things up, then."
With that kiss, her words disappeared, and his suppressed desire finally broke loose. Raw need drove Maximilian to indulge in the woman before him.
He knew every sensitive spot on her body, making her melt into him—surrendering.
A night of passion unfolded, leaving Elizabeth breathless—and surprised by his seemingly endless vigor. Anyone who claimed Maximilian had no interest in women would have to answer to her now—his reserved exterior hid an untapped fire.
The next morning, after the storm, the air was refreshingly crisp.
Sunlight warmed the room where Elizabeth lay, held securely in Maximilian's arms. Her hair spilled across the pillow like long, silky water, and her petite face was serene in sleep.
But the workday rhythm intruded, jolting her awake. She glanced at the clock—and panicked.
It was 9:30 a.m.!
Her perfect attendance record was at risk. Hastily, she threw back the covers, wincing as soreness reminded her of last night's intensity.
Turning her head, she saw her boss still asleep beside her.
In those few seconds, a whirlwind of emotions tore through her.
Her movement stirred Maximilian. His long lashes fluttered open, revealing eyes still hazy with sleep.
"Um, it's 9:30. I'm late," Elizabeth stammered, her pulse racing.
"Take the day off," Maximilian said. His voice was low and clear, a command that carried undeniable authority even fresh from sleep.
Elizabeth blinked, her heart rate slowly returning to normal. "What about my attendance bonus?"
"I'll cover it."
Relieved, Elizabeth brightened. "Okay. You rest a bit more. I'll make breakfast. Half a day off is fine."
"Alright," Maximilian rumbled in agreement.
Carefully lifting his arm from her waist, Elizabeth noticed his intense gaze lingering on her. His dark eyes held a humor only she could read, tracing her features like a gentle caress.
Feeling unexpectedly self-conscious—and very aware of her lack of clothes—Elizabeth turned and pulled the covers over his head, shielding herself from his gaze.
Maximilian, unfazed, lay still as she hurried into the bathroom. Once she was out of sight, he sat up and uncovered himself.
The austere room seemed to come alive.
Running a hand through his hair, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the wardrobe.
The previous night had left a mark. Next to the old bite mark, a new, delicate one appeared.
She couldn't resist leaving her mark.
Elizabeth got ready quickly, hoping to dodge any awkwardness—or further entanglement under the same roof—by heading to the kitchen.
Truth be told, she was hungry.
Opening the large, modern refrigerator, she was stunned.
Rows of alcohol lined the shelves—nothing but alcohol...
The freezer was empty.
"Your fridge is stocked with nothing but drinks?"
"I never cook at home. I'll take you out," Maximilian said, coming downstairs in an impeccable suit, carrying her phone and passport.
Elizabeth blinked, taken aback, and closed the fridge door.
Maximilian went to start the car, and Elizabeth found herself standing before a luxury vehicle she'd only heard her colleagues talk about.
Never had she imagined she'd actually ride in one.
"Sit up front," Maximilian offered, opening the passenger door for her.
Tentatively—yet resigned—she got in.
"Are we going to the...?"
"The civil registry."
"Shouldn't we see a lawyer first? Isn't there a prenup to sign?"
"No need. We can sign the paperwork today," Maximilian replied, looking effortlessly sophisticated in his suit. His words were direct, giving off the air of a distant man who was hard to reach.
"But you're so wealthy. Aren't rich people usually particular about that sort of thing?"
"If you can't trust your own woman, what kind of man does that make you?" Maximilian said as he drove, his tone firm but composed.
His answer struck at the independent values she held so dear.
She looked at him, bathed in golden morning light, his features even more striking.
He looked like strength and integrity wrapped in a tailored suit—a model of masculine excellence.
"What are you smiling about?" Maximilian asked, glancing at her.
"You, Mr. Carter, are so... manly. The epitome of a true gentleman," Elizabeth praised.
Compared to the conniving men she'd known, Maximilian seemed like the perfect gentleman—wealthy, handsome, and completely without pettiness.
"Sounds like you've met quite a few swindlers," Maximilian remarked, his voice steady.
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