The Boss Vol. 6By: Cari Quinn & Taryn Elliott
Fuck logic. What had it ever gotten me? Yes, I’d made more money than I ever dreamed, but I’d also spent too many years alone. Grace had pushed me past my limits over and over, and all I wanted was more.
Nothing with her would ever be enough.
“You wanted to know why I kept coming back to your classes. Year after year. You refuse to believe it’s because of your skill at teaching, and the joy you share every time you immerse yourself in your art. It’s your gift. You make people want to experience that happiness too.” I reached back to undo her messy braid. Half of her hair had come out of it, and she didn’t seem to notice or care. “But there was more.”
She’d begun to relax under my hands, but then she stiffened. “I knew it.”
“I know it’s hard to imagine it looking at my photos back then, but I didn’t exactly have my pick of the girls.”
She made a sound in her throat and ducked her head.
“Weird thing was, I didn’t care. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. Maybe I was too angry, too used to fending for myself to even think that someone would be able to deal with me. Besides, I had two hands.”
Her head came up, her gaze sharpening. I knew she was thinking about that night in my bathroom, just as I was. The night she’d asked me to jerk off for her pleasure, using my tie.
“Then I saw you. There was absolutely no reason for you to grab me the way you did. You seemed to have even less interest in the opposite sex than I did. All you cared about was what you built with your hands and your heart.”
Her lips trembled. “I was practically a child.”
“So was I, all things considered. You also loved your grandmother. I didn’t trust her, and I definitely wasn’t sure I liked her. But watching you with her, hearing you laugh, it did something to me.” I clamped my fingers around the end of her mostly deconstructed braid, using it to tug back her head so that her sea-colored eyes were on mine. “You want one of my secrets, Ms. Copeland?”
“You know I do. I want all of them.”
I couldn’t give her all. But I could give her this.
“Sure about that? You’re not going to like me very much afterward.” I brushed my fingers through her hair, spreading it over her shoulders.
“Who says I like you now?”
“Touché. I followed you. I tracked you, and I learned everything about you. You fascinated me on levels I’d never experienced before. Imagining you with another boy, thinking of him touching you,” I parted her full, pink lips and slid my finger inside, “of him having this, it made me crazy. And then when I discovered you didn’t care about boys, I became obsessed with being the one. The one who would have you first.”
She took a shuddery breath. “You’re right. I’m not liking you a lot right now.”
“Is that how it always is with you? You have to plant a flag and claim everything? Can’t anything be easy with you?”
“With my company, no. With you, absolutely not.” I bent to nip the indentation I’d made in her lip. “I never did get to have this pretty, perfect mouth first. But I’ll have it now.”
She bit my lip, and damn if I didn’t groan like a teenager in heat. She’d made me that from the first, and sometimes it felt like I hadn’t progressed much past that point.
Her small fist plowed into my gut, and the sound I made was far from sexual. Jesus, she had some power for such a little thing. “You stalked me. Did recon on me, searched into my past?”
Were those questions or statements? I nodded.
She hit me again, nudging me back. My spine hit the counter and she hooked her fingers in the loops of my pants. “Contrary to what some woman might do after hearing all that, I’m not dropping to my knees for you. I’m supposed to get all weak-kneed because you followed me around and pried into my personal life instead of, I don’t know, coming up to say hi? You know, what’s your phone number, want to get a burger?”
I must’ve made a face at that because she shook her head. “Oh no, God forbid the almighty Blake Carson go on an actual date. A meal, a movie, some getting-to-know-you conversation.”
“Is that what you want?” I grasped her wrist. “The banal and ordinary?”
It annoyed me I’d never considered it. Why would she want that when we could take helicopter rides and fuck in secret locations atop my building? Or hell, right in the front vestibule.
In the office washroom, in the gallery across from the clock I’d created for—
No. I wasn’t going there now. There was baring my soul and then there was ripping it open for sport.