I blink a few times, waiting for the ferocity to clear from his eyes, but it only intensifies the longer I stay silent.
“Okayyyyy. I’ll check the messages, and I’ll handle it.”
“If you don’t handle him, I will,” he warns.
Oh, the fuck no. That’s the last thing I need. “That isn’t a good idea. He’s . . .”
I focus on our bare feet just inches apart, our toes pointing to each other.
“He’s a very powerful man, Grip, and I don’t want you hurt.”
There’s an ominous quiet before the storm I should have known my comment would stir.
“You think I’m scared of that son of a bitch?” A dark cloud breaks on his face, his voice a boom of thunder. “You think you have to protect me from him? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You don’t know him. He—”
“You get one shot.” He clips the words, anger still brimming in his eyes. “Listen to the messages. Deal with him or I will.”
“You don’t boss me around.” My words land heavily between us. I hate to say it, but I have to say it. I have no plans to be anyone other than who I am. “Let’s be clear about that.”
The bands stretching tightly over his expression loosen just a little bit. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he drops a kiss at the corner of my mouth.
“That’s my girl.”
A confused laugh pops from my mouth. I assert myself, expecting resistance, and it only draws him closer.
“I have no desire to boss you around, Bristol. I love that you’re a boss. It’s sexy as hell.”
“Well, thank you for—”
He cups my pussy under the towel tucked around me, his eyes heated, holding me hostage.
“This is the only part of you I want to boss around.” His middle finger strokes along one side of my clit and then the other.
“There won’t be any doubt who’s the boss right here between these legs.”
The lazy motion of his finger snatches the breath from me. I’m wet and anaerobic, unable to even pant while he tends to my clit, brushing a rough finger pad along the slickened nub. One thick finger breaches me and retreats. Breaches me and retreats, a rough repetition that soaks his hand and makes my thighs tremble. Holy hell, I may not want to be bossed around, but Grip is Commander-In- Clit. He can get it anytime he wants.
The unapologetic possession in his eyes as he watches me unraveling, my knees weakening so badly I have to hang on to his shoulders, tells me he knows it. I can’t even care. If he does this to me when no other man has been able to, he gets to be smug about it. He’s earned that shit.
The orgasm propels harsh breaths from my mouth. I come hard and with a crash, landing limply against his chest. The pleasure so overwhelms me that tears christen the corners of my eyes.
“That’s right. That’s my girl.” He licks at the tears as if they’re an offering, like they’re his due. He palms the small of my back, and the possessive weight of his hand alone has my most hidden, private muscles clenching again. He holds complete sway over my body.
“You’re right, Bristol,” he whispers into my hair, humor rich in his voice. “You’re the boss.”
Chapter 26
GRIP
GROWING UP, DRIVING a Range Rover like this one—overloaded, latest model, and just over two hundred thousand dollars—seemed about as likely as scoring a ride in Cinderella’s pumpkin. But here I am.
Or rather here we are.
“This car’s gorgeous.” Bristol caresses the stitch pattern perforated leather seats. “I didn’t even know you were in the market for one. You’ve never cared much about cars before.”
“True.” I merge onto the 5, shrug, and shoot her a quick grin. “I’m good with my Harley and my six four.”