The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Is that something you’d be open to?” He asked the question so casually it threw me for a moment. He’d seemed more uncomfortable asking me to eat dinner with him than asking if I wanted to be chained up.

I cleared my throat. “Well... I’ll try anything once. Though whips might take some convincing.”

“Then we’ll save that for the second date.” He laughed, and my heart skipped a beat.

“How do you do that?” I shook my head and smiled to myself, looking down at my nearly empty plate. “It’s not fair that you get to be cool and rich and own a company.”

“And I have a huge cock,” he reminded me, and I threw a fry at him. “I suspect what you’re perceiving as ‘cool’ is the fact that I have the emotional maturity of a toddler coupled with the libido of a seventeen year old boy, and absolutely no one in my life telling me no.”

“That’s a pretty specific and insightful answer,” I mused, dropping my napkin to my plate.

“I’ve heard it enough. Sometimes shouted at me in anger. It’s not as attractive an existence as it may appear.” He took another sip of water then moved the room service tray from between us, settling it on the rug at our feet.

“I don’t know, I can see at least one upside to it.” I rose on my knees and scooted toward him. “You have this crazy hot girl who’s using you for sex. That has to count for at least one good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing,” he murmured against my throat as he pulled me into his lap. His hands fell to my hips, pushing the t-shirt up. I glanced at the window. “Isn’t someone going to see?”

He lifted his head, gazing out at the city beyond the glass. “You’re right. I suppose we should make it worth their while, then.”

My witty retort was lost in the flutter of fabric up and over my head, and then Neil’s hands and mouth were on my breasts, and I didn’t care if the entire world was watching.

Chapter Seven

We were in the soft, comfy hotel bed, my head on Neil’s shoulder as he lazily stroked my hair. The only light in the suite was the fluorescent glow of the New York night outside the window, and the pale blue from the alarm clock’s stupid, stupid face.

“It’s one o’clock,” I groaned. I didn’t want to leave the bed. I wanted to stay snuggled up with Neil, warm skin pressed to warm skin, and sleep until we woke up to fuck again.

I hadn’t meant to stay so late. I really hadn’t. Especially since this was technically his place at the moment, and staying over seemed a bridge too far for our first night. I lifted my head and rested my chin on his chest. “I have to go.”

“Right, you have work tomorrow.” He grimaced as he moved his arm. I’d been laying on it for a while. “I suppose you’ve got some horrible prick of a boss who won’t let you have the morning off?”

I sat up and frowned down at him. “Is my horrible prick of a boss giving me the morning off?”

“No.” He laughed and held up his hands defensively when my jaw dropped. “No, actually, I really need you there in the morning. I’m interviewing someone, and I want you to sit in. I just wanted to see your face when you thought I was giving you the morning off.”

“You asshole.” I laughed and leaned down, brushing my lips across his. I meant it to be quick, but his hand splayed at the small of my back, and his other hand rose to the nape of my neck. As long as I was being held there, I thought I might as well let him kiss me thoroughly.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?” he asked, but we’d been over that between the second and third time. He really hadn’t been kidding about having the sex drive of a seventeen-year-old. I was twenty-four years younger than him, and I had serious doubts I could keep up consecutive nights of this.

I shook my head and forced myself to actually get out of the bed. If I stayed much longer, I’d be too tired to make my way home. “Friends with benefits don’t sleep over. I explained all this.”

“You did, I’m sorry. I’m being greedy.” He sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. “Let me help you find your things.”

Picking up the sheet we’d accidentally kicked to the floor, I wrapped myself in it. It wasn’t that I was bashful, but I figured the less naked we both were, the less likely we’d end up fucking again. Neil apparently agreed, because in addition to the flannel sleep pants, he donned the Led Zeppelin t-shirt I’d been wearing on and off all evening.