The Billionaires: The Bosses (Lover's Triangle 2)

Bayli Styles.

She was something else.

He returned to her, joining her under the covers. He settled on his back and pulled her to him, so that she lay on top of him.

“This definitely can’t be comfortable for you,” she said.

Christian tucked strands of hair behind her ears to give him a better view of her beautiful face. “I like your skin on mine. And all these luscious curves. Christ, you can get me hard again in a heartbeat.”

His hands skimmed over her shoulders, down her back, to her ass. He palmed the cheeks and squeezed. She let out a small cry.

“The way you keep inciting all these sizzling sensations,” she murmured against his lips, “I might as well have stuck a bobby pin in a light socket.”

He chuckled. “I entertained myself a couple of times as a kid by doing that. The apartment wasn’t exactly babyproofed.”

“Nor was ours. I was particularly thrilled to discover, around the age of four or five, that all I had to do was open the drawers next to the refrigerator and use them as steps to reach the freezer. I’d grab an ice cube tray and sneak the homemade Popsicles into my room. Keep them in the nightstand drawer, thinking I was quite clever. Then cry a river the next morning when I found they’d melted overnight.”

“Sometimes a kid has to learn the hard way. What was your favorite flavor?”

“Wild cherry. Imitation Kool-Aid, of course. It was three cents cheaper per package, my mother always said.”

“Ah, yeah, wild cherry. That was a good one.”

“But you preferred grape, right? All the boys in the complex preferred grape.”

“Not sure what it is about grape Popsicles,” he mused. “And shit, I haven’t had one in forever.”

“Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “if you get a craving, my freezer is well stocked with ice cube trays of all flavors. It’s how I’ve been surviving this New York heat and humidity over the summer. I can’t wait for the weather to break.”

“Any day now…”

“Thank God.”

His lips brushed her cheek. Then he said, “I can send over ice cream from the restaurant.”

“Don’t you dare! I’ll scarf down every delicious calorie. It’s tough enough serving gelato in Central Park two days a week and not setting aside a scoop or ten for myself.”

He laughed heartier this time. “Yes, that would be a challenge. What else do you do?”

“I’m at a library fifteen hours a week. It’s close to Grand Central Station and the United Nations building. Used to be a church, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. But the congregation became so massive that they had to find another facility to accommodate all the people. A private investor came in, bought the building for twice the asking price—his charitable contribution to the parish, I guess—and then turned it into a library. It’s positively stunning. I’m quite honored to ‘worship’ there.”

“You like your books,” he said, recalling she’d mentioned being a bookworm.

“I love my books,” she corrected. “Not knocking the Internet or anything, but I’d choose being surrounded by the smell of dusty pages and hearing that cracking of the spine when you open a hardback over the efficiency of Google or Wikipedia any day.”

One of his hands remained on her ass. The fingertips of the other grazed along her spine, up to her nape, and then down to the dip at the small of her back. He felt the shivers through her body. Felt the blood rush to his cock as it began to swell again.

Ignoring the intrinsic sexual pull for the moment, he said, “You’re a Renaissance woman. Skilled in several areas, fascinated by all manner of subjects, willing to invest time and effort into any task, such as cutting an expensive cigar. And you like the classics, the traditions. Yet one look at you tells me you know how to put a modern spin on traditions.”

“Well, I do use Crystal Light or MiO for the Popsicles, instead of Kool-Aid,” she quipped.

Christian grinned. “If you’re worried about the sugar and calorie content, you should know that I think you’re pretty much perfect.”

Her tawny eyes glowed. “You’re a lot kinder than I expected you to be.”

In a swift move, Christian rolled them so she was on her back and he was settled between her parted thighs. “Did you mistake me for some sort of ogre?”

“Not at all.” Her arms slid around his neck and her legs tangled with his. “It’s just that you and Rory are friends and business partners and so I figure you’re both of like minds. And while I definitely sensed there was some chemistry between me and him, there was also palpable tension. And he told me he’d call me. But…” Her teeth clamped down on her lip briefly before she seemed to realize she’d self-consciously employed the insecure gesture, then released it. “He never did. He thoroughly dismissed me. Kicked me right out of his kitchen. In more ways than one,” she added on a low breath.