I Slept With My Boss Then Married Him

“Well… when there’s a need, both partners should pull their weight.”

“All right,” Maximilian Carter agreed.

“Let’s go.” He started toward the elevator.

Elizabeth Cox trailed after him, her cheeks hot with embarrassment, and stepped in behind him. Drenched head to toe, she looked like a tiny, rescued puppy. Maximilian—soaked designer suit and all—somehow still looked composed. Elegant. His natural poise and quiet dignity drew Elizabeth in, and she couldn’t help but feel pulled toward him.

Despite the strange circumstances, a small spark of hope flickered inside her. He was the only person who had thrown her a lifeline when she was drowning. No woman could remain immune to that—to someone offering her solace in the middle of hopelessness, even if they both had their own reasons.

“We’re here,” Maximilian said, stepping out and glancing back at Elizabeth, who was still lost in thought.

Elizabeth snapped out of it and hurried after him. As they stepped out of the elevator, she stared at the villa’s interior.

The soft gray tones gave the place a cool, refreshing feel—much like Maximilian himself. Yet every detail had been chosen with care, turning the house into a work of art. Captivating. Indulgent. It was Elizabeth’s first time inside a home this stunning.

“The guest room hasn’t been used. I’ll grab some bedding from my room. You should shower and change,” Maximilian instructed, handing her the suitcase.

His tone left no room for argument. Elizabeth nodded obediently. “All right,” she said softly, dragging the damaged suitcase toward the guest room.

The room was immaculate, with a new bed and sofa. After the cramped, converted storage space she called home, it felt almost unreal. Clean. Bright. Everything she’d ever dreamed of—and it even had a private bathroom.

Elizabeth was thrilled.

But when she opened the suitcase to find clothes, everything inside was soaked.

Maximilian glanced at her over his shoulder. “Everything’s wet?”

Elizabeth bit her lip in frustration. “Yes. I’ll try to dry them with a hairdryer.”

“I’ll bring you something,” Maximilian said, turning to leave.

Elizabeth watched him go, her heart racing. She felt impossibly warm, her damp clothes clinging to her like a second skin.

Soon, Maximilian returned and handed her one of his black shirts. “Use my room to shower. The guest room doesn’t have hot water or toiletries.”

Elizabeth looked up, her face wet and her eyes red, hesitating.

“Don’t catch a cold. I’ll wash your clothes,” Maximilian said. He pressed the shirt into her hands and picked up her clothes from the suitcase, handling the wet bundle with an ease that made her face burn even hotter.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how to feel about Maximilian offering to wash her clothes. Holding the shirt, she hesitated—but then she remembered how gentlemanly he’d been and decided not to overthink it. They hadn’t even registered their marriage yet, and he was still being courteous.

But Elizabeth underestimated a man’s nature—or maybe Maximilian underestimated his own patience.

After loading her clothes and his shirt into the washer, Maximilian came back to find Elizabeth inching toward his room like a cautious turtle. His deep eyes narrowed slightly.

Stepping into Maximilian’s room, Elizabeth was awestruck by how spacious it was. The bedroom alone was the size of a three-bedroom apartment.

She stood there bewildered until Maximilian appeared behind her.

Before she could react, he guided her into the bathroom with one hand.

The door shut with a click, leaving Elizabeth in her wet clothes, staring at Maximilian in shock.

“What… what are you doing?”

The composed, elegantly dressed man now stood shirtless—and he was proposing a shared shower.

“To keep you from catching a cold, let’s shower together,” he said. His calm voice made Elizabeth blush and want to bolt.

She tried to move away, but he lifted her onto the sink, then stepped back just slightly, bracing himself on either side of her.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No,” Elizabeth denied quickly.

Her hair was still dripping, her cheeks softly flushed. Maximilian stayed close, his presence overwhelming.

He touched her face. “You scratched and bit me yesterday. Wouldn’t it be fair for you to help me shower today?”

His voice carried a compelling allure. Elizabeth’s face flushed even more as she glanced at his chest. His body was tall and defined, water trailing over his skin. The bite marks she’d left were visible on his chest—a reminder of moments that had already passed.

Maybe because it was her first time this close to a man, Elizabeth didn’t know where to look. Her gaze flickered everywhere.

Especially when she saw the water droplets on his abs—the hard lines of muscle a testament to masculine energy. She had touched them. She remembered how they’d felt.

The air grew hotter. Elizabeth’s body warmed with it.

Maximilian watched her expressions keenly.

“Do I look better with my clothes off?” he teased.

Elizabeth blushed furiously, wishing she could disappear from embarrassment.

“I’m not answering that,” she said, covering her face.

But Maximilian lifted her under the shower.

Warm water cascaded over them, intensifying the heat spreading between them.

He guided her hand to his waistband and lowered his voice. “Help me with these.”