The Last Boss' Daughter

He grins again, and I’m very pleased with myself. Then he bends, bracing his hands on the bed, and suddenly he’s hovering over me, and my amusement dies, quickly replaced by a yearning I’ve never felt before.

“I can help with that,” he tells me, bracing his weight on one hand and using the other to grab my shirt. It’s a sweatshirt so I’m not totally sure what he’s planning to do—unbutton it?—until he suddenly fists it, lifting it, until I’m arching off the bed, closer to him. He holds me like that, sort of suspended, and as his lips brush the sensitive nerve endings around my mouth, the throbbing starts. I squeeze my legs together and he feels me. His eyes move to mine, dark and tense and passionate, and as much as Paul tried to possess me, he never could, not like this. I’m wholly Liam’s right now.

He releases his hold on my shirt and drops me on the bed. I huff another breath out and go to lift my shirt (my hands have suddenly remembered how to function, because I need to feel his skin against mine) but his hands are on mine, pulling them away. His hands move up under my shirt, teasing the cool skin of my belly. Goosebumps rise up all over, and the chills are a stark contrast to the heat between us.

Finally, he pulls my shirt up. I twist and turn to make it easier, and a few seconds later he’s flung my shirt somewhere behind us, the thump of the phone reminding me that maybe we shouldn’t have thrown it.

He doesn’t seem to care. His eyes rake over my terribly unsexy bra like it’s made of the most revealing lace, and then he’s reaching behind me to unclasp it.

I’m held against him as he does this, and I can’t help kissing his skin. My lips move across the giant pec in my face until I reach the nipple. My tongue shoots out and circles it, sucking it lightly, and he rewards me with a groan.

I can’t shake the feeling that time is running out. I want to do everything with him, learn every inch of his body, try everything I’ve always wondered about, and it doesn’t feel like we have enough time.

I have no idea how much time we have.

The thought is sobering, but my bra joins my shirt on the floor and the sudden heat of his hands on my breasts pulls me right back into the heat of the moment.

“What do you like?” he asks, massaging my breasts, but meeting my gaze.

My heart races so hard in my chest, he has to feel it. “I… uh, I’m not sure.”

He nods once, considering, then he releases my breasts and grabs my arms, jerking them above my head.

I gasp, squirm, and then he’s between my legs, wearing nothing but briefs. His hardness pushes against me, ready to invade, and oh, God, how I want him to.

He holds my hands down pretty hard, but not hard enough to bruise. This isn’t like what I’ve experienced before, and I assure him of that when he asks, “This?”

“Yes.” I’m breathing so hard, you’d think he’s already fucking me. If he doesn’t soon, he may need to build one of those footbridges over this bed.

He thrusts his hips against me, holding my gaze, and I gasp again, trying to twist, but he still has my arms above my head. He tightens his grip when I try to move, and leans in to kiss my neck as his free hand starts at my breasts and trails lightly down my body.

“Oh, God,” I murmur, twisting again as his finger circles my belly button. I know where he’s heading and I just want him to get there, but he knows that, so he takes a detour, over to my hips and down my thigh.

“Tell me you want me,” he says.

“I want you,” I tell him.

“What do you want?”

“Touch me.”

He smiles, inching closer, but just working back up and down my thigh. “Is that how you ask?”

I pull at my hands again, but he doesn’t let them go. “Please,” I add. “Please touch me. I want you to touch me.”

I don’t know what combo of words he’s looking for, but I’ll write them all down for him later if he’ll just fucking put his fingers where I want them.

Finally those goddamn beautiful fingers move inward, skating across my entrance so lightly that I have to whimper.

“Liam,” I murmur, rotating my hips.

“I wish we had longer,” he says, echoing my own feelings.

Logically, I want to know how long we do have, but there’s no place for logic in my mind right now.

I arch up toward him, unable to use my hands, but wanting him to kiss me.

Taking my hint, he leans down like he’s going to kiss me, but instead hovers above my mouth. My eyes are closed, and as I open them to see why he’s stopped, he thrusts a finger inside me. I gasp, and he catches it with his mouth, tongue thrusting as his fingers explore.