Goddamn.
I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve been starved for ages. I’m barely even human as every potent kiss makes me want to shear off her clothes, flip her over, and fuck her until her eyes roll white.
I blink my eyes open and spot a couch. With our lips still locked, I fling her up in my arms and carry her across the room.
Her lithe body bounces against the sofa as I lay her down and stretch over her, careful to keep my weight off of her as my fingers fly below my belt to my zipper.
She pulls away from me as soon as the unfastening buzz breaks the silence, breath ragged, one hand still tangled in my hair.
“Brina?” I whisper, my eyes so hot I’m sure they glow.
“Mag.” She cups my face in her free hand. “It can’t be like last time. Not like Phoenix. You can’t just do this and then say—”
No.
I cut her off with a feral kiss, sinking my teeth into her bottom lip. My tongue glides against hers, rubbing the inside of her mouth until she moans, and then I pull away.
“I promise you, it won’t happen. No more second guesses. No more retreat.”
For a second, our eyes are fused.
Hers are amber-brown whirlpools, so dark with desire and heartache.
“Then kiss me again,” she whispers finally. “I’m...I’m yours.”
“With pleasure,” I rumble, tearing at her dress, setting her other breast free as her eyes go wide. “You didn’t say where.”
I close my mouth around the new pink nipple, lashing it with my tongue, teasing her with my teeth, sucking her until I feel her toes curl against my ankle.
My shaft strains against the hole in my pants, raging to be freed, but she’ll come for me at least once before we get that far.
When I leave tonight, she’ll be as desperate for the next time as I am.
I slide a hand under her dress, hoping to find her as bare as she was on top.
No dice, but of course she’s fucking soaked. I swear, I can feel her pussy throb for me under her silk. I trace her panties delicately with the tip of my finger for several seconds before I flip the cloth back to tease my fingers against her entrance.
She moans, pushes her hips into my hand, smearing her hot slick need against fingers eager to make her mine, mine, and also mine.
I draw more vicious circles around her nipple with my tongue, holding my fingers just out of reach below, gingerly exploring her inner thighs and the slit I’m about to claim.
“Mag...please!” She arches up and down against my hand, her breath hitched, begging for every unspoken promise offered in teeth and fingertips.
My cock throbs so hard I almost lose it on the spot, coming in my pants.
Then my phone rings.
I pull my mouth away from her breast. She whimpers, staring up at me through lidded eyes.
“I’ll put the bastard thing on silent.” I move my hand to my pocket with a grin. “I know how bad you need this, baby. Hold on.”
I plan to power the damn thing off and get back to what matters, but the words Memorial Hospital flash across the screen, catching my eye.
What the hell?
Slowly, I back away, leaving her red-faced and gorgeous and exposed.
Damn if it isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“Sorry. I need to take this.” I stab at the talk button. “Yeah?”
“Can I speak with Magnus Heron?” a bubbly voice on the other line says.
“Speaking,” I grind out. “Who’s this?”
“I have you listed as Marissa Quail’s emergency contact.”
My gut sinks and confusion whips through my head like a gale.
“Emergency contact? Is this some kind of goddamn joke?” I snarl, turning away from Brina’s questioning look as she sits up.
“No, sir, I have you listed as Marissa Quail’s emergency contact and—”
That’s interesting. I thought she wanted nothing to do with me. Is this about Jordan?
“Repeat that back to me?” I ask, my mind wandering.
“I said, unfortunately, if you don’t pick up her son soon, I’ll have to call protective services until she’s able to care for him,” the voice continues.
“No! Don’t do that. I’ll be right there. Is she okay?”
“We can give you more details about her medical condition once you arrive. For now, I can tell you it would be best to pick up the child. She won’t be discharged from this hospital tonight.”
Shit.
When I turn around, Brina’s already made herself presentable again, but her eyes are glued to my face.
“What’s wrong?” she mouths, her big brown eyes staring.
I shake my head and end the call.
“I have to go,” I say.
“But—”
I duck my head down and kiss her. “This isn’t like Phoenix. I promise you, it’s a real emergency. We’ll talk about it later.”
Yes, I’m aware I’m walking out of her apartment with a hard-on that could be considered a deadly weapon, but the frigid Chicago air will remedy that by the time I’m in the town car.
So will the sharp boulder in my throat, and the lead heart pounding in my chest.
I don’t understand what the fuck’s happened.
I’ve got to get downtown ASAP.
15
The Kid (Sabrina)
Rat.
Bastard.
This is the second time he’s kissed me—okay, it went a lot further than kissing—and he acted like it was nothing. He went from a hundred miles an hour to zero in point six seconds like that Ferrari in Arizona, leaving me gasping for air and wondering what just hit us.
And the worst part? The very worst?
I wish—or at least my body wishes—we’d reached the final destination.
What am I doing?
I almost had sex with a guy who left me high and—well, definitely not dry—without giving me the simplest reason.
Not to mention the fun fact that he’s still my boss.
A caveman in a suit who never learned to speak emotions.
And after this shitshow tonight, I’ll still have to see him again come Monday morning.
What’s our score again? It must be something like:
Unpredictable Sexy Boss McGrump: 10.
Girl who gets her heart kicked around: 0.
I’m so stupid. That stunt in Phoenix tried to warn me.
Paige isn’t home. She left me the place for tonight, so I can’t even vent. Or maybe I can. I grab my phone and send her a text.
Hey, I wish you were home. You have no idea what a ginormous buttwipe my boss is.
She pings me a minute later with a laughing emoji. Yes, I do! You’ve told me! But I thought I was out of the house so you could get laid? Why are we talking about your asshat boss? Get laid!
I don’t have the guts to tell her I came very close to getting laid with a normal, if boring guy, and then my “asshat” boss and almost-booty buddy turned into one in the same.
You don’t have to stay out if you don’t want to. No laying tonight, I text back.
A few seconds later she sends back an angry face and Why? What? Brina Bristol—get laid!!!
Thirty minutes later, I flop down on the couch in front of Netflix, stuffing an overcooked frozen pizza into my mouth.