The Boss Upstairs - Roya Carmen Page 0,65

buried in projects. He has a lot going on, probably a lot more than I do. Rosetta tells me he owns dozens of condo buildings, not to mention his philanthropy work.

“Hey.”

He smiles. “Hello.” He does a double take. “You look fantastic, my own personal ray of sunshine.”

I laugh. “I try.”

“Was that in the job description?” he asks. “Brighten up the room?”

I shake my head.

“Would you like some snacks?”

I glance at the spread on the counter; brie cheese, green grapes, pecan nuts and crackers. It all does look tempting, and I’m suddenly hungry. “Uh… sure. If there’s enough.”

He smiles. “There’s plenty.”

I fill my water bottle.

“Does the dress fit?” he asks.

I turn to him. “It fits like a dream. I slipped it on last night, along with the heels and bracelet. I looked like a princess.”

He fills a large tray. “I bet you did.”

I stand and watch him clean up his work area diligently. I’ve noticed that he’s very methodical, and washes his hands about a hundred times a day. That’s when he’s not squirting hand disinfectant on them. “Are you a germaphobic?”

He smiles. “Busted. Yes.”

I nod. “My mother is too. As a result, I have very good hygiene habits too.”

He laughs. “I love that about you. I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but there it is.”

I blush. “You’re such a weirdo.”

He grabs the tray and heads out. “Follow me.”

I nip at his heels like an eager puppy.

“Mirella had lice once,” he tells me.

“What?!”

He laughs. “She was a kindergarten teacher. It was a work hazard.”

“I bet you weren’t impressed with that.”

He settles the tray on the coffee table. “No, I wasn’t. It was kind of hilarious, looking back though.”

We both take a seat on the loveseat. I help myself to a grape.

He stacks a cracker with cheese and a pecan. “I must have really loved her because I still saw her.”

I help myself too. “If I had lice, would you still spank me?”

“Definitely.”

I smile and pop a cracker with cheese into my mouth. It’s delicious.

We enjoy the food, and the conversation flows smoothly. When I tell him about Samuel and the flowers, he grows concerned.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I can deal with him.”

“Well, let me know if I can help,” he says. And after a beat, he adds. “You’re mine.”

“Why, Mr. Boss Man is quite possessive, isn’t he?”

He smiles. “It’s in the agreement. Exclusivity.”

“True… but I told you, I’m not interested in him that way.”

“No one gets to touch you but me.”

I laugh. “Yes, Sir. Speaking of which…”

A slow smile traces his lips. “Come over here.”

28

I’m there in a flash, right next to him.

He starts off slowly, a finger tracing the buttons of my cardigan. “This is pretty.”

“Thanks, it was a gift from a friend.”

His fingers dance along my collarbone, and he drops soft kisses on my skin. I rake my fingers through his soft hair.

“Undo your buttons for me, sweetie.”

I obey, and hastily work the pearl buttons, all thumbs. He smiles as he watches me. As soon as I’m done, he pulls the cardigan over my shoulders and kisses them. His kiss feels amazing. I could get lost in this moment forever. It’s pure heaven.

He reaches for the hem of my camisole and pulls it up over my breasts. He’s feverish when he jerks my lace bra up, and takes my breast in his mouth. He bites my nipple softly. It’s so good, it’s almost painful. I’m breathless as I reach for his shirt. I pull it from the band of his pants. My hands explore the soft skin of his stomach. He’s ripped, and I long to lick every inch of him. I slither down, and that’s exactly what I do.

He groans loudly, and the next second, he jumps up like a jack-in-the-box. I’m left on the loveseat, aroused and disheveled.

“I’ll be right back.”

I pull myself together again, wondering what could be so urgent.

He’s back in a flash. “I just locked the door. We wouldn’t want Rosetta to walk in on us.”

Damn. This is about to get good. I grab a fistful of his shirt, and pull him down to me. He slides his face against mine, and his stubble scratches my skin just right. We engage in this dance for the longest time, almost kissing but not quite. I want his lips on mine. My mouth reaches for his.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “No kissing, remember.”

“Forget that,” I scoff. “I want to kiss you.”

He stares at my lips. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

We resume the dance. My insides melt as