Sarah M. Anderson - Taming The Boss

She swallowed hard. “You’re not going to fight fair, are you?”

“Of course not.” She almost smiled at that—but not quite. “This weekend—let me take care of you. Which,” he added, stroking his thumb along the side of her hand, “I’m already doing. I can’t wait to see what dresses you decided on.”

“Not the same,” she muttered, yet he couldn’t help but notice that she was still holding his hand, still submitting to his touch.

“Let’s have fun this weekend,” he went on. “Just two old friends spending time together. No strings.” He leaned over and nuzzled her hair with his nose. God, she smelled so good. He wanted to devour her. “Let me put you first, Sofia. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

She didn’t answer for the longest time. “I don’t know if I can do that. Not like you can.”

That hurt more than he wanted it to. “Like me?”

“I can’t be…casual.” But she rested her head on his shoulder and it only made sense for him to tuck his arm around her again. “I mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

Eric let that thought roll around in his head. He assumed she knew about his ex-fiancée. Had she heard about the aftermath of the broken wedding? He’d gone through several high-profile, short-lived romances afterward before he’d burned himself out on meaningless sex. He hadn’t exactly loved Prudence, but he’d at least cared for her, and sex without that caring wasn’t the same. A physical release, yeah. But it hadn’t been enough. He’d needed more.

Sofia in his arms felt like more.

His body ached for hers but for more than just a release—for both of them. He wanted to make her smile and laugh and…

He just wanted to make things right again. For her and maybe for him. For them both.

He kissed her head and did the right thing. “It’s okay. We don’t have to fool around.” His body strained in protest but he ignored it. He wanted Sofia almost past the point of reason—but friends didn’t pressure friends into sex.

She snorted in what he hoped was amusement.

“But,” he went on, “if you change your mind, you let me know. Because I care about you, Sofia. I won’t hurt you.”

She was silent, but she let him hold her all the same. “Friends, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. Friends were great. Friends with benefits were even better. But he managed to keep his mouth shut. “Always friends.”

She sighed and leaned into him even more. “Thank you,” she whispered.

And although it wasn’t sex, there was something to just holding her that made Eric close his eyes and savor the moment.

He stroked Sofia’s hair. She sighed again and even that small noise made him feel good. Great, even.

He needed this. He needed her and even if this was as far as it got, it was enough. For now.

The car bumped into a pothole and Sofia’s cheek crinkled against the drawings her children had made for him. It was entirely possible, he realized, that he needed those babies, too. Their laughter, their hugs. Their joy. He needed that innocence in his life again. He was tired of being a cynic, holding himself apart from people because they’d disappoint him every single time.

He and Sofia stayed like that and Eric let himself enjoy the feel of her body pressed against his. Even this almost platonic touch felt right. She belonged in his arms.

How could he convince her of that?

“Almost there,” Eric said, his voice low and close to her ear.

All Sofia could do was nod miserably as she leaned heavily on his arm.

“I can walk,” Meryl protested weakly from just ahead of them.

“I know you can,” Steve replied, sounding almost normal, “but no one needs to watch you bounce off the walls.” With that, he swept his wife’s legs out from underneath her and cradled her to his chest.

It wasn’t much of a comfort that Sofia wasn’t the only one who’d suffered mightily on the flight to St. Louis. The landing had been a terrifying exercise in flying during a storm and there’d been no way to push back against a panic attack. It’d been so bad that she’d forgotten how to breathe and had actually blacked out for a second.

Steve had gotten sick and Meryl looked like she needed a doctor. Even Eric, who was no doubt used to flying all over the place in that tiny aircraft as well as riding the waves on his boat, looked a little green around the gills.

Sofia’s legs felt like rubber bands and her heart was still skipping at a weird rhythm—and they’d been on the ground for almost forty-five minutes. She hadn’t had the strength to protest when Eric had slung his arm around her waist and held her up. She leaned into him, barely managing to keep hold of the bottle of ginger ale. She wasn’t sure it was helping. She had no idea where her luggage was and she honestly didn’t care.

“I know it’s going to push us off schedule,” Eric said loudly so Steve and Meryl could hear him, “but I think we all need a break. Can we afford two hours?”

“No,” Meryl said, although she sounded like she was trying not to cry.

“Yes,” Eric said more firmly. “Look at it this way, Meryl—no one would expect us to have landed during that storm, anyway. We had a flight delay, that’s all. We still have all day tomorrow, too.”

Meryl moaned pitifully, which made Steve croon to her.

The sound made Sofia’s heart skip another beat, but not due to motion sickness. It was good, old-fashioned jealousy. God, she missed having someone who’d pick her up—literally or figuratively, it didn’t much matter—when life knocked her sideways.

Just then, Eric leaned down to her, his arm tightening around her waist and his voice for her ears only. “There’s your room, Sofia.”

And even though it wasn’t the same and Eric wasn’t hers, she leaned into him even more because she felt terrible and Eric was the strength she needed right now and whatever happened this weekend, they would always be friends. Even if she fell a little more in love with him, they were friends.

The Nortons’ room was across the hall from hers. “Where’s your room?” she asked as Eric fumbled with her key card.

“Next door.” He got her door open and basically set her inside, one hand still around her waist. He pivoted back to where Steve had gotten his door open. “Take as long as you guys need,” Eric said quietly, as if Meryl wasn’t right there. “It’s better to be late than be ill during the meetings.”

“I’ll be fine…” But Steve closed the door and cut off Meryl’s weak protest.

Eric pivoted Sofia into her hotel room. “I’m so sorry I’m such a mess,” she said, knowing it was pointless to apologize but apparently unable to help herself.

Eric snorted as he sat her on the bed. “I’m sorry the flight sucked. That was one of the roughest landings I’ve ever had. Wasn’t entirely sure the plane was going to hold together.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She’d wondered the same thing, right about the time she’d stopped breathing. “Maybe we can take the train home?” she said, trying to make a joke and failing.

“The weather is supposed to be clearer on Sunday,” he promised. “If it looks bad, we can make alternative arrangements.” Then he knelt before her and picked up one of her feet. Sofia was aware that her pretty new silk top was plastered to her back with sweat and the rain had done a number on her hair and she probably looked one step removed from a drowned rat. She certainly didn’t feel much better than one.

But then Eric moved. Slowly, he slid the cuff of her trouser up and pulled her brand-new Stuart Weitzman flat off her foot. There wasn’t anything strange about him seeing her bare leg. It was just a leg. God only knew he’d seen that and more back when they’d spent half a summer splashing in a pool.