Page 48 of Taboo Flames

I want to tell her that, at this point, I don’t care, and I’m very sick of keeping our relationship under wraps, but I wisely keep my mouth shut.

This was neither the time nor the place for that conversation.

As usual, Aurora is silent for the rest of the drive home. She spends the whole drive fiddling with the car radio, flipping through different songs, and making my ears bleed.

Her taste in music is honestly appalling. It’s really just a bunch of people screaming into the microphone. It’s also a clearreminder of the age difference between us that I choose not to think about right now.

“Go upstairs. I’ve got something to do,” I tell her as I pull up in my driveway. “We’ll talk about that video and your text when I get back.”

“Yes, boss,” she says snidely before banging the door shut.

I have a very important meeting on the other side of town, and by now, very important people have been sitting in a warehouse for close to an hour, waiting for me to show up, and yet, all I want to do is go after Aurora and find out if the vibrator is still in her.

With a shake of my head, I turn the car around and drive off.

Every meter I drive away from her makes me angrier and angrier. I know I’m far too attached at this point, and there’s no use denying it.

I don’t listen to a single word anyone says throughout the meeting. I just give nods when I think they’re appropriate and reply with non-committal grunts. Fiore shoots me a worried look at one point, which I staunchly ignore. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll mind his own damn business.

I’m the first to stand up as soon as the meeting comes to a conclusion, and my car is already speeding away by the time the rest of the men are done getting their asses out of their chairs.

The over thirty-minute drive back home takes me about twenty-five. I park haphazardly across the driveway and toss my keys at one of my men. Then, I race up the stairs like an eager schoolboy, just to come up short when I don’t find her in my bedroom.

It’s at that moment that I hear music blasting through the house. I follow the sound to the kitchen and find Aurora singing and dancing around, a spatula held to her mouth.

I smile at the show she’s unknowingly putting on.

She’s in one of my white button-up shirts. The sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, and the hem falls down to the middle of her thighs. I can see the hard points of her nipples from the shirt.

I clap slowly, and her head snaps up to meet mine. “I’m going to need an encore.”

“I only take orders from men with nine-inch dicks. Sorry.” She gives me a mock, apologetic look.

“You’re going to make me go around with a tape, decapitating people,” I tell her with a growl.

She shudders in horror. “You’re a psychopath, and I’m not letting you eat the cookies I’m baking.”

I walk forward until I’m standing a hairsbreadth away from her, then I grab her by the collar of her stolen shirt and pull her to me. “I like you in my clothes.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“Good,” I purr before I slant my mouth over hers, tasting butter and sugar on her tongue. “Now, about that video.”

“What video?” she asks coyly.

I dig my phone out of my pocket, open the video, and hold it to her face. The sounds of moans and gasps fill the kitchen, and I see the apples of her cheeks turn red.

“This one.”

“I don’t remember making that video,” she says. “I must have sent it to you by mistake.”

“Hmm, and let me guess, your threat about finding some other asshole was also a mistake?”

“Nope,” she answers, popping the P. “That was completely intentional.”

With a growl, I open the camera on my phone and prop it against the knife block.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, looking at the camera.

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