Page 50 of The Bossy Billionaire

“Huxley!” she says again, almost begging.

“Come for me,” I yell to her, slapping her ass hard, and she comes just as she gasps from the shock, her body shuddering, trembling, and clenching on me.

“Fuck…” I growl out, my teeth grinding as I come, feeling our bodies connect and clench around each other, my hands gripping her ass again, no doubt leaving bruises where my fingers grip. Grinding her to me before she falls, her mostly naked body now lays on mine, completely spent.

Her head is buried in my neck so I can’t see her face, but I can feel her panting just as quickly as I am, and I caress her hair and run my hands up and down her back.

“Wow,” she says in a whisper.

I swallow at her words because it feels big. Like we just jumped full speed over another big hurdle. I pull her tight, aware that she is naked, but not yet wanting to move.

“Mmmm, best damn picnic I’ve ever had,” I murmur into her hair at the top of her head, and she huffs a laugh and I smile.

Yep, this woman right here is going to be the end of me.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - LUCY

“Thought I might find you here,” Huxley says from the doorway of his den. It is a large room, his desk sitting proudly in the middle, the windows looking over the ranch. One wall is full of books, which is surprising since I know he doesn’t read.

“Lucky guess,” I murmur. He had to step out to chat with his parents, so I found a business book on his shelf and have now immersed myself in the pages on the very comfortable sofa that is placed in the corner of the room.

“I got you something,” he says, walking to his desk and opening the drawer. I put down my book and sit up, wondering what he is talking about. He pulls out a small box and comes and sits on the sofa next to me.

“Here,” he says, passing it over and I open it. A brand-new, top-of-the-line cell phone sits shiny and new. “You lost your old one when the rock hit you, so I ordered you a new one. I've programmed my number, your brothers, the shop, every contact I had that I thought might be relevant for you. It’s all charged, ready to go.” I am speechless. I am not overly connected to my phone. I don’t take selfies, and I am not really into social media, but I had been thinking about needing to get one and wondering how I was going to manage it.

“You shouldn’t have,” I tell him, because he really shouldn’t have. I can afford my own phone; it just might take me a few weeks to sort it out. But I can do it. Although knowing my brothers, they probably would already have something organized as well.

“You need a proper phone. You need to be able to call me anytime, and I, you,” he says, looking slightly concerned. We haven’t really spoken about what is happening between us, but after our picnic by the river today, I know we have a strong connection, and it is building with every passing minute. “Harrison mentioned to me this morning that your electrical wires were cut the other night.” I see a tick in his jaw.

“That’s right,” I confess, having not told him about any of it.

“I also know that the car that is following you is not their security.”

“What?” I ask quickly, my chest feeling tight.

“I spoke to them about it. They haven’t placed any security on you because you always said no,” he says, clearly not happy about it. I swallow as I take in the news. If it isn’t my brothers following me, then who is it?

“I don’t need security,” I mutter the words, no longer really believing them myself.

“You need fucking security, Luce. Especially after a rock went through your window, aimed right at your head,” he growls.

“No. I don’t need it. It is fine. I can handle it.” My palms sweat as I stand up, needing to move.

“It is not fine!” he yells as he stands and runs his hands through his hair. “I can’t be with you every night when we get back. You are in Baltimore, and my life is in New York—” I cut him off.

“I didn’t ask you to be with me every night. I haven’t asked you for a single thing,” I spit out, not liking feeling like I am a burden or something that needs looking after. I pace the room, my anger starting to swirl, matching his, and I limp a little, making me feel pathetic.

I see his eyes flick to my leg and back again. “I want you to speak to my brother about your leg,” he says, standing tall, ready for my onslaught.

“Not going to happen.” Shaking my head, I’m not believing we had such a good day today and now we are at loggerheads again.

“He is the best orthopedic surgeon in the country. He can help…” His fists clench by his sides.

“I don’t need help, Huxley. I. Am. Fine.” Never once has he made me feel like a burden. We have always felt like equals, but the line is getting close.

“I think a second opinion can do no harm. And he will be here. You don’t even have to go to a medical clinic.” I watch him take a deep breath, trying to get his frustration under control.

“Huxley, this is just me. I will be ruined for the rest of my life now,” I tell him. Why can’t he see that? I am damaged, and there is no cure for me. I will always have a limp, not able to do the things I used to be able to do.

---