Page 44 of Rich and Bossy

It’s no use. He’s too big, his arms are too long, and let’s face it: I didn’t really want to escape.

“I’m coming for you, Strous!”

Uh oh.

His arms lock me up easily, and we fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs, laughing helplessly. I’m on my back, staring up at the clear ceiling high above me, with steel beams forming lattices through it. My back is on the turf, and I don’t think there’s ever been a more perfect moment in the history of the world.

His chest is pinning me down, his face right in front of mine, smiling like a man reliving his glory days on a football field.

He hovers over me, slightly closer than would be considered strictly professional. In other words, he’s about an inch away from me, and if he doesn’t kiss me, I might scream.

I don’t need to scream.

Oh God. He’s moving in.

He dips his head lower, brushing his lips against mine in the gentlest way, like he’s testing the waters. A rush of energy floodsmy body, pure adrenaline. My hips move up slightly, just to brush against him, just a little.

What the hell am I doing?

I should play it cool. I really should, but it’s no use telling myself now that I know what his mouth tastes like.

I take his turtleneck collar in both hands and pull him closer, kissing him like it will be the last time because, let’s face it, it will be. I try to log every bit of this in my memory, every feeling, every sensation, so I can always remember it.

He growls just slightly against my lips, either surprised or pleased by the reciprocation. Maybe both. One hand slides down the length of my body while the other cups the back of my head. I’ve never felt so safe, so wanted. Everything else, all the conflict between us, just fades away to a distant memory. His fingers burn a trail down the side of my hip, even through my clothes.

Before I know what I’m doing, I hook a leg around his thigh, drawing it between mine. He’s hard and it’s big. Like really big. I need this man. God help me. I’ve never wanted anything more.

By the time he comes up for air, he’s breathing hard enough that I’d think he was the one who just sprinted up and down the field. He stares down at me, his eyes hardening. “Let’s go.” He growls the words in my ear.

Wait what? I can’t do this. I know what that tone means.

It means we’re not finished with this. Not by a long shot.

You can’t do this!

Why not?

The way I jump to my feet and allow him to drag me across the field by my hand, tells me I never really had a chance. I’m not stopping, no matter how bad my brain tells me to.

Looks like this is happening.

CHAPTER 11

Paxton

At this rate,it’ll be a miracle if I get us to my place without crashing the BMW.

My dick has been hard since the moment I tackled her. One hand is on the wheel, while the other is on Hazel’s thigh. I can’t help myself. I need to touch her at all times.

If she put up resistance at all, I’d respect it, but she doesn’t. Her fingers lace through mine, and for a moment I think she’s going to either hold my hand where it is or move it away. Instead, she inches it a little higher, a little closer to the apex of her legs. I can barely fucking breathe. Ever since I saw her that day in the elevator, I’ve wanted to know what was underneath her clothes. Thank God I live close enough to the stadium that it won’t take long to get her to my place. Every second before then is an opportunity for her to change her mind.

Every time my brain tries to be logical, I push the thoughts away, totally reject them. I don’t care. I know this is right. I can’t describe this insatiable need. I have to have her. Nothing has ever mattered so much, not even my damn company.

Which makes no sense. No sense at all. It’s insanity.

Her head cranes up at the window at the sight of my high rise. “Should’ve known you’d live somewhere like this.”

“Have to look down on all the little people.” It’s a risky joke, but I can’t help it. I want her fired up. I want her to attack me when we get to my place, because otherwise I might mow her down the second we’re inside.

---