Hot Boss - Anne Marsh Page 0,39

from centuries ago, but I do it, anyway, pressing my lips against her knuckles. I can feel the fine bones of her fingers.

I press my cheek against her hair and stare out at the ocean with her. The horseshoe-shaped bay cups the darker water of the Pacific Ocean, waves breaking on the rocky formations and licking at the golden sand.

“You should go swimming.” She smirks at me. “If you promise to swim naked, I’ll join you.”

There’s a beat and then a little frown puckers her forehead. “Unless there are sharks.”

I grin into her hair. Thank God she can’t see me smile or she’d kill me. Hazel doesn’t believe in admitting fear. “You can take on a roomful of pissed-off investors and convince them you shit rainbows and fart glitter, but you’re worried about fish?”

“I’m worried about really big fish with scary teeth. I need to check.” She twists in my arms, patting her pockets. She seems more interested in googling Cabo predators than the romantic setup we have going on. Which is fine. We’re not that kind of couple.

“They have giant squid here,” I tell her. “They’re particularly partial to divers.”

Hazel hums, clearly trying to decide if I’m pulling her leg or not. I’m mostly not. There is a fifteen-foot squid here that’s been making a bid for the apex predator spot as the shark population has declined. Cabo is rough and gorgeous, wild and dangerous, golden brown and never entirely safe. It’s very much like life in that respect.

It’s not that I don’t know what Hazel expects from me: she wants my dick. She wants sex and closeness—but only up to a certain point. We’re friends and business partners, but we’re not lovers. Not really. We’re just two people screwing each other while we wait for something more permanent to come along.

Still, part of me is angry that she’s willing to settle. That she hasn’t held out for what Dev and Lola have. They’re getting married tomorrow, which means they’ll stand up in front of us all and choose each other. They’re making promises and plans. They’re banking on forever. Of course, I, of all people, know that forever can end up being measured in years, months and days, but at least Molly and I had that long even if we didn’t have forever. It’s more than many people have.

And now Hazel eclipses all thoughts of Molly. She wriggles back against me, her ass finding my dick like a heat-seeking missile. Jesus, she makes me hot.

“So,” she purrs, eyes still fixed on the ocean. “There aren’t any predators I should be worried about?”

“Definitely not in the ocean.” I nip her ear and she squeals. She needs to make that sound when she’s riding my fingers. My face. Top of the list? My dick.

She tilts her head back, resting it against my shoulder. “Sea snake?”

“You know, there’s a fish called the slippery dick.”

Hazel snorts. “You know I’m not gullible, right?”

“Scout’s honor. Halichoeres bivittatus.”

“Is it a big fish?”

Fuck, I love her sense of humor. “Less than half an inch. It’s a fish with a permanent inferiority complex. There’s probably hundreds of them swimming around out there in the bay.”

“An entire bay of dick fish.”

“One huge orgy,” I say solemnly. “When it’s mating season, all the boy fish get together and put on a show for the ladies, hoping to get lucky.”

A smile tugs at Hazel’s mouth. “Sounds like the San Francisco bar scene.”

She shifts closer, her face turning up to mine, and I’m no saint. I thread the fingers of one hand through her hair and cover her mouth with mine. I taste tequila and chocolate, and underneath that, Hazel herself. She makes me wish I was a poet, that I had the words to describe the unique taste of her, but all I can do is kiss her.

Eventually she pulls away, her eyes moving over my face. “Let’s go inside.”

Part of me wants to do it right here, to take her against the balcony where we can see the ocean. Not because I’m romantic but because I’m impatient. I want Hazel right here. I imagine she’s worried, though, that our friends can see. I suspect that they’re already naked and trying out the beds, but I nod, anyhow.

There’s a sudden swell of music coming from somewhere deeper inside the resort. Mariachis and trumpets, cheerful and bold. It’s the kind of sound that makes you want to swim and maybe do a shot.

“We could take salsa lessons.” I’m pretty sure I