Can't Touch: A Boss Romance

He doesn’t stop, casually tasting me just like he said he was going to. Slow and steady. “That was incredible.”

“It’s just the start, Chianna.” He props himself up on his elbows and smiles. “I don’t think I’ll ever be more grateful for not being able to sleep. Something I have you to thank for, by the way.”

I sit up on my own elbows. “Me?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says. “And even after jerking off three times you were still in every dream.”

My face flushes, but not from embarrassment. It’s heat. And brand-new need. “You did that? Thinking about me?”

He nods. “And I’m going to have to do it again before going to work, after this.”

“Oh. Right. I can—”

I stop when I see his grin. “I’m a grown man, Chianna. I can live without an orgasm for a while. This was for you. If I have my way, there will be plenty of time for me.”

“I think I’m excited to see your way,” I say.

“Chianna?” A loud voice calls from the hallway outside. “You in here?”

Dread drops through my body like ice, and I scramble for my pants. That’s Meynard’s voice. Why the fuck is he here? He knew I was going to the gym. Am I really that late getting back? I shove myself into my pants and fix my camisole just as Kris gets his shirt back on.

Meynard strides into the room seconds later and stops short at seeing the two of us together. “Canterbar. Didn’t expect to see you here so early in the morning. Alone with my niece.”

Kris just smiles that smile that could light up a thousand suns. “Couldn’t sleep and came for a run. Chianna here offered to show me some stretches after I finished.”

The way he says it, there’s no doubting it. Even if my uncle still looks suspicious.

Kris turns to me. “Thank you for working with me. I’m sure that those stretches will help.”

“You’re welcome.” I wish that my voice didn’t sound strangled.

Meynard watches Kris until he reaches the yoga room door and turns back to me. I watch seconds longer, and that’s when my whole body is set on fire. Shame. Humiliation. Arousal. I’m honestly not sure which it is. Because Kris is looking directly at me, my thong between his fingers.

I was in such a rush to get ready that I didn’t even notice that it was gone.

As I watch, he lifts it to his nose and inhales deeply, eyes closing like he’s smelling the best damn thing in the world. Then he tucks the lace into his pocket and winks before disappearing out of the gym. The whole thing takes seconds, and I feel like I’m spinning.

“We need to get to the office early this morning,” Meynard says. “Get ready.”

There’s no room for argument, and there’s no point in telling him that I didn’t actually get a chance to work out. At least not in the way that he’s thinking. So I gather my mat and everything else, and I follow him back to the apartment.

I’m not at all thinking about my missing panties or what he might do with them.

Nope.

Not at all.

6

Kris

I make it to my apartment before they appear in the hall. They’re probably only seconds behind me, but I don’t want to be seen at the moment. I’m barely holding on as it is.

The fact that Meynard dislikes me enough not to look too closely is a good thing. Because one glance and he would have been able to tell exactly just how much I want his niece. I’m so fucking hard that I can’t breathe.

Damn it to hell, I’m not going to make it all the way to the shower. I don’t even make it past the entryway before I’m dragging my shorts down around my thighs and grabbing my cock.

But not before grabbing that fucking piece of lace that’s driving me absolutely crazy. Chianna is turning all of my self-control into dust. When I saw this thong on her, I nearly came in my pants. There’s nothing that I love more than a wet woman in lace. The way you can see the glistening arousal through it, like a perfect gift waiting to be unwrapped—holy fuck, it’s making me want to go to her door and drag her here to ravish her again, Meynard be damned.

Oh fuck.

The images are spiraling through my head. I can’t stop them. And the way that Chianna looked at me when I told her that I took my pleasure from her, tells me that she doesn’t want me to.

I force myself to slow down. Strokes that are good enough to make me go over the edge, but I’m going to hold it as long as I possibly can. I want to savor this. The rough edges of the lace scrape along my cock with just enough sensation to make it that much better. And man, I cannot wait to take her further.