Mr. Bossy Devil (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss 2)

My hand is still on her arm, but she doesn’t jerk away even though her eyes are literally shooting laser beams at me. It should not be this hot imagining Zoe as a vengeful, laser beam shooting, destructive robot.

“Of what? Our past?”

“No. The fact that you’re kind of my boss, which I can fix. Because I’m going to give my notice.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“I’m going to do it.” Zoe tilts her chin up.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Even if you beat me at rock, paper, scissors.”

“Can I rock, paper, scissors you for the right to make you scream down these woods?”

“You’re disgusting.” The expression on her face says she means the idea is somewhat worth consideration. I can practically smell the steam coming from the wheels churning inside her head as she runs through the different scenarios.

“You’re not. I’d very much like to taste you.” I remove my hand from her arm and clench it into a tight fist. “So, what’s it going to be? Are we going to play?”

Zoe’s eyes lock on my face, her lips part, and her breathing gets all wild and frantic. I look over my shoulder because I’m worried there’s something coming for me—a murderous panther or a rabid squirrel or something. But there’s nothing. Just the dense trees and the forest floor of moss, pine needles, leaves, sticks, and the occasional rock, peeking through.

“What—”

As soon as I swivel back around, Zoe steps forward and grips my face in both her hands. Her nails bite into my cheeks as she drags my face down to hers. There’s nothing tentative about the way our lips meet, and if you’ve heard the expression about the fury of a thousand suns, that saying has nothing on us. Our eager lips, our warring tongues, and the wild moans escaping from both of us put the expression to shame a thousand times over.CHAPTER 12Zoe“Get my shorts off,” I hear myself pant frantically into Raiden’s warm, amazing mouth. Dear god, he’s talented with his lips and his tongue. He said he could make me scream. I might be losing my mind. Maybe I did get bitten by something rabid along the way, and this is the fallout—the whole not being in my right mind thing. I can just hear my inner voice, or maybe it’s the spirit of my lady bits, screaming the words, challenge accepted.

Raiden drops to his knees right there on the path. I realize anyone could come along and see us, but unfortunately, the part of my brain responsible for rational thought only works to tell me that we’re so deep into the woods, and I took so many turns to lead us here, that chances of someone coming across us are probably slim to none.

Raiden’s hands are strong and sure. He braces one hand against my hip, and the blistering heat of his touch makes me want to scream already. I nearly tear his hands away from my shorts so I can tear them off, but I manage to restrain myself, barely. He does a pretty good job of being fast, bordering on desperate, all on his own. He gets the button undone, and then the zipper zings through the silence with the force of a fog horn renting the night.

Strong, wonderful, and warm hands tear my shorts down my legs. I kick them off so frantically that I nearly fall over. I’m the one who hooks my fingers in my panties, which are a very unsexy, plain white cotton, before pushing them down my legs so hastily that I hear something rip.

Whatever.

I never liked them anyway.

And even if I did…well, whatever.

Raiden’s hands trail up my legs. Both of them. And god, his hands are glorious. Is it weird I could come just from feeling his hands on my legs? I’ve had some sex in my life before. I mean, I’m thirty. I’ve even been lucky enough to date a couple of guys who knew what they were doing. It just never felt…it never felt like this. Just this is already better than anything I’ve ever experienced.

I’m more of a lights-off kind of girl. I guess I’d also classify myself as tame in bed. Tame, not lame. I have done some experimenting before—kind of. I think. Anyway, the normal Zoe would be stamping her foot and demanding that someone—and I’m not sure who because it’s an irrational demand—turn off the freaking sun, so it’s not so bright. She’d be running for the shelter of the trees because it’s maybe a little more shadowy and shady in there.

Maybe some of the shadows would cover up the dimple in my left ass cheek or the fact that I shave instead of getting waxed because it’s cheaper, and I’m a wuss and can’t take the pain. I do work out a few times a week, and I know I’m in pretty good shape, but still. Everyone has their insecurities.