Page 42 of Broken Boss

Autumn’s breathing picks up with pleasure as I lose myself in the sensations of her. Her plush skin, hot core, the swell and jiggle of her breasts pressed against me.

I could do this forever, I think blindly, one hand gripping her hip to hold her still while I fuck into her. I could lose myself in this woman.

It’s a dangerous thought, but I let it go, unwilling to be anywhere other than in this moment. Autumn crying out beneath me; the overwhelming wave of emotion and dizzying desire; the satisfaction in feeling closer to anyone than I have in a long time.

It’s everything I’ve been wanting. Even if I won’t admit it to myself.

The next morning, Saturday, the street outside her apartment is busy. Couples and groups of friends stroll toward Central Park. Customers pop in and out of the few businesses nearby, a nail salon and a small convenience store.

I’m parked outside again, probably illegally, waiting.

Waiting gives me too much time to think.

What the hell am I doing? Is this really a good idea—having the woman I’m obsessed with move in with me?

It’s just temporary, the cool, calm, and collected lawyer persona reassures me. Necessary. Wouldn’t want her crazy ex getting to her, would you?

It hits me in this moment that I’m not too far off from Kieran, her ex…after all, we’re both obsessed with Autumn. What’s keeping me from becoming him?

It’s an itch I can’t scratch, learning more about him. I want to ask, want to know so many things. Was she in love with him? How long were they together? Is there any chance, any chance at all, that she’d give in and go back to him?

No, that’s ridiculous. She’s scared. Which is the only reason she agreed to this crazy idea.

I look up through the passenger window and see the woman herself striding out of the apartment building with her chin raised and her eyes cold. But there’s an edge of uncertainty to her, too.

In the backseat of my car, Frank whines. At least I’m not the only one making puppy dog eyes at her.

She opens the door, slides in, carefully places a bag in the back, and smiles at Frank.

“Is that everything?” I ask, clearing my throat gruffly.

Last night is a haze, a whirlwind, a dream. You just fucked. That lawyer voice is back and it’s annoying. Get over it.

That’s what’s nagging me, though. As much as I love the dirty talk and stripping Autumn down to the little pink scraps of clothing she hides under her business attire, it was more than just fucking. To me, at least.

Was it for her, too?

Another question to add to the pile.

Whatever it was for her, it was distracting enough for Autumn to forget a few things. I slept fitfully last night, knowing she was just two doors away in my guest bedroom. After an awkward coffee this morning, she asked if I could bring her back to round up the rest of what she’d need.

Trying not to react to the painful twinge of tension in my shoulders, I throw the car in drive and head back through Manhattan, toward home.

It’s a longer drive than usual with the weekend traffic. Autumn gets out, wrangles Frank out of the back seat, and turns to glance up at my house with a small frown. This is the first time she’s seeing it in daylight. I pocket my keys and give the house a quick appraising glance, trying to see it through her eyes.

It’s blocky, modern, dark. Not as ostentatious as Nate’s place in the country or as quaint as Jenson’s Cambridge home. No, this is a creation of my own—mostly for show. It looks like a billionaire lawyer’s home. Intimidating. All clean lines, glass, and the black front door.

I follow Autumn up the front steps and reach around her, trying to ignore the way her ass grazes my dick, as I unlock the door.

Frank slips easily from her grasp with a shake of his head. “Hey!” she calls out, but he’s already gone.

Last night, the dog was confused and tired, too. He followed Autumn into the guest bedroom and went completely unnoticed. Now it seems he’s found his energy again.

He does a loop of the large living area, then trots back toward us, mouth open in a grin. I can’t help grinning back.

“What do you think, boy?”

As if my words are encouragement, Frank lopes off toward the kitchen and dining room behind it.

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