Boss (Killer of Kings #7) - Sam Crescent Page 0,18

the rest of your life. That what you like? Being a slave to a man like him?”

Her eyes narrowed, but that was all the emotion he could get out of her. He knew he’d hit a sore spot, but she managed to keep up her iron walls.

“You like being put on show for piece-of-shit assholes like Viko? He said that wasn’t the first time he’s had you stripped naked.”

“So what? I’ve told you before it’s only a body.”

“And I’ve told you you’re better than this.”

Her figure was fucking perfection. Thick thighs, rounded hips, and a killer ass. She filled out everything she wore in an unholy way. And she knew exactly how she affected men. Graciella was the whole package. Only she wasn’t. Her beauty was skin-deep, the rest a dark abyss of pain she lived to keep buried. Boss was convinced he was the only man who could handle a woman like her.

But he wasn’t looking to settle down. Not now. Not ever.

Only the distant sound of waves and their combined breathing could be heard. They were so close. “You came here for a reason,” she finally said.

“I don’t like secrets. Yours tend to be deadly.”

“Again, I didn’t plan on this happening,” she said. “And I’ll clean everything up. I’m working on it.”

“Where does this cabin come in?”

She exhaled. “It’s mine, okay? A place I like to come to sometimes. It helps me think.”

Even the heartless Widow Maker needed an escape. Boss never granted himself such liberties. Too dangerous.

“You like the ocean?” he asked. Graciella was cold, calculating, and ruthless. Discovering she had hidden passions was worth the drive out to the beach.

She didn’t answer him, but he expected no less.

“Mind if I have a seat?”

“Make yourself at home,” she said, snatching her hands away once he relaxed his grip. He sat on the edge of the bed, the springs squeaking slightly from his weight.

“I never thought of you as a floral girl,” he teased.

“You know so little about me, Boss. You think you know everything, but you can never get in here.” She used two fingers to tap her head.

“I want in there.”

She sauntered toward him, standing directly in front of where he sat. Her legs were bare. She only wore a short white sundress, and it highlighted her golden skin. “You get everything you want, don’t you?” she asked.

“Almost.”

He ran both his hands up the backs of her legs. She didn’t flinch away.

Boss groaned, his cock already stiff and uncomfortable.

“Have you had many dinner dates lately? I’m sure you can have any woman you want. You’re the great Boss of Killer of Kings, after all.”

“No dates. And the only woman I’m interested in right now is already here.”

“Now I’m the conquest of the week. I suppose I should be flattered.”

“You should,” he said.

“I guess I’m good for one night,” she said. “But men like you don’t settle for women like me. You want virgins. Young, sweet things to balance out the darkness. I know how it works,” she said.

“What happens to women like you?” he asked. There was pain in her words. He wasn’t used to getting an emotional response out of the raven-haired beauty.

“We become forgotten. Lost. Nobody really cares about the broken ones.”

His hands drifted higher up her thighs. Fuck, her legs were smooth. He felt the edge of her panties.

“I’m not most men. And, sweetheart, a virgin would never be able to handle me.”

****

Graciella had come here specifically because she knew Boss would follow. She hated the fact he’d outsmarted her last week with Viko. She couldn’t get him off her mind.

There was no way she’d admit she was in way over her head. There was only so much Viko could or would do to help her. Knowing Boss was invested in ending the drug problem was like having an insurance policy, and it brought her a measure of comfort.

She rested her hands on his shoulders. Seducing men was her specialty, but touching Boss was no ordinary day on the job. He was hard and corded with muscle, a beast of a man. He alone brought out her vulnerabilities and she hated it.

“What’s your real name?” she asked.

He smirked.

“You know mine.”

“I have no name,” he said.

His tone made her want to take back the question. She didn’t pry further.

“How’d you get this scar?” He traced an old scar on the front of her thigh. His big hands on her legs sent skitters racing all the way to her pussy, but no way would she