A Sugar-Promise for Christmas: a 14-book holiday romance bundle (BBW Romance)

Excerpt - Sugar, Honey, Ice, Tea

Noah

“Don’t mind me, boss,” Elijah says, bursting into my office and heading straight for the filing cabinet.

“No daddy this time?” I joke while I continue inputting expenses into this blasted spreadsheet, one digit at a time. Computers have never really been my thing. 

“I’m trying out this crazy thing called listening. Not sure how long it’ll last for,” he teases back as he slides the drawer closed and turns around, new employee paperwork in hand. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“Well, you’re about to love me—I have the answer to your prayers out in the bar right now.” 

“The answer to my prayers, huh?” I stand and move to the doorway. It gives me a view straight into the bar where a blonde with curves for days is rigorously wiping down the stainless steel prep area, her breasts and booty jiggling hypnotically from the movement. I’m not the kind of boss who creeps on the girls who work for me. I’ve always been adamant about keeping my distance and providing a workplace that paid them well and kept them safe. We have a no touching policy that is fiercely upheld by security. But as I watch this new addition to our team drop the rag she was using into the sink then turn our way and smile, something flips in my chest and twitches in my jeans. Fuck. I’m a fifty-three-year-old man. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a woman before—especially one who’s obviously half my age at the most. But I’m having visions of grabbing those round hips of hers and throwing her on the bar while I bury myself deep inside her. I want to take her home with me, wake up with her in my bed. I want to be the sole reason those pink lips of hers smile. I want her to be mine. 

“Noah.” Elijah clicks in front of my face, snapping me out of my inappropriate stare fest. I feel like a kid again, drooling over a girl I’ve no right to even look at. What is wrong with me?

“Can she pull a beer?” I demand, my voice gruffer than I intend as I frown and turn away from her. She looks too innocent to be in a place like this. 

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” he says, looking at me like I’ve gone crazy or something. “Tilly here can not only pull a beer, but she can make any drink order you can throw at her. Believe me, I put her through it, and she passed with flying colors. And she cleans. Look at that bar shine! Girl, you are God’s gift to us right when we needed you.” 

The girl beams. “Thank you.” My heart flutters even faster. What the fuck? 

“One problem,” Elijah starts. “She can’t dance. I’ll need to teach her.” 

“Dance?” Alarm bells go off in my mind. I don’t know why, but the idea of her up on that bar, dancing for anyone other than me has all kinds of protective instincts inside me going haywire. “No.” 

“No?” Tilly’s smile falls as she looks from me to Elijah. Suddenly I feel like shit. I never want this beauty to look hurt because of my words. I’m quick to clarify. 

“You don’t need to dance. I want you on the floor, pouring drinks—no dancing.” 

“Oh. Um, OK.” 

I catch Elijah’s brows knitting in confusion as I turn around and shut my door, flicking the lock behind me. The way her mouth looked when she formed that O with her lips has my dick straining to get out past my zipper. I need to put some space between me and Tilly before I say or do something crazy. She’s an employee. She’s young. And the way I’m feeling toward her is not OK. In fact, it’s downright filthy.