Daniel handed Emma a glass of merlot, his fingers brushing hers deliberately. "We need boundaries."
She sipped, buying time. The penthouse's skyline view mirrored the dizzying heights of whatever this was. "Such as?"
"One." He stepped closer. "No one at work can know." His cologne—sandalwood and something dangerous—wrapped around her.
"Two." Another step. His thumb wiped a wine droplet from her lip. "We stay professional at the office."
Emma's breath hitched. "And three?"
Daniel's hands cradled her face. "This stays between us." His mouth crashed onto hers.
She melted against him, the wineglass abandoned on the counter. His kiss was possessive, hungry—a far cry from the controlled CEO. When they broke apart, her lips throbbed.
"What if I break rule three?" she challenged.
Daniel's growl vibrated against her neck. "You won't." He nipped her earlobe. "Because I'll be too busy reminding you why we have rules."
He backed her toward the bedroom, his hands mapping her waist. Emma's laugh faded into a gasp as he lifted her onto the king-sized bed.
Later, tangled in sheets, Daniel traced her collarbone. "Still think this is a bad idea?"
Emma hid her smile in his chest. "The worst."
His chuckle was dark. "Good."