Page 47 of Taming the Boss

Until he called my bluff.

His dexterous fingers crept higher along my inner thigh, slipping under the denim to where my panties were tightly cupping my slit. My wet slit, mostly just from the filthy suggestion of his question. I hadn’t been wet before he asked me, but with that one question, I’d soaked my panties.

I probably should’ve been ashamed of that fact, but the low growl he let out as the pad of his fingers brushed my wetness, so close to my clit, was enough to have me arching in my seat.

I wanted more. Needed it. And the fact his child was still babbling nonsense baby stuff in the backseat didn’t put the brakes on my libido.

Dear God, what was happening?

And how could I get him to make me come? Quickly?

Without doing something that might cause his son to be irreversibly mentally harmed?

It wouldn’t even take much. Just a few circles of his fingers and I’d pulse out my release into his hand. Make him all sticky with what he’d teased out of me with so very little.

Something large lumbered in front of the car, shadowy in the dusky twilight caused by the sudden storm. Jude slammed on the brakes, swearing vividly, slamming his hands on the wheel when the huge beast lumbered off.

“Was that a moose?” I asked dazedly as he removed his hand from my shorts.

His choked laughter almost soothed my disappointment. Almost.

“It was a deer. Though a moose certainly would’ve been more noteworthy. Are you okay, buddy?” When Owen didn’t immediately reply, his tone sharpened. “Owen, are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.” A moment passed. “Moose?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “No, Owen, just a deer. The male ones can get pretty big. They have big racks…” I trailed off at Jude’s knowing look that somehow meant so much more now that he’d, well, almost touched my pussy.

Just barely, but it felt as if we’d crossed some intimacy line that was so fucking weighty, I couldn’t quite catch my breath.

Because that’s the closest you’ve come to actual sex with another person in years, and he’s so much older than you.

Maybe Reagan was closer to right than I’d ever guessed. Not that he’d lure me into the sex trade, but there was clearly going to be some sort of sex exchange here.

I had no problem with that, either. Not one bit.

Jude eased off on the brake and continued up the lake road, keeping both hands firmly on the wheel and his attention squarely ahead of him.

“Exactly how old are you?” I managed to ask when I got my wind back. Sort of.

“How old are you?” he returned.

“21.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m legal,” I reminded him stiffly.

“I should hope so. Barely.”

“That doesn’t tell me how old you are. You’re not like forty or something, are you?”

“And if I was? Would that be a problem?”

I thought it over for a minute, not wanting to say something untrue. It seemed vitally important that I be completely honest with him to the best of my ability. “No. I don’t think it would be.”

“Right answer.” He spared me the briefest of glances before focusing on the road once more. “But I’m not. I’ll be 33 in November.”

I exhaled. “Oh. Okay. My brother Penn is older than you.”

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