Page 46 of My Bossy Billionaire Attorney

“That’s good. Hold on tight, because you’re about to go for a ride.”

“Oh my God yes,” she breathes.

I kiss her on the lips. “Your wish is my command.”

I pull out, almost to the tip, and thrust hard, almost lifting Savannah off the bed. She screams, reaching for the sheets and then throwing her arms around my neck.

“Fuck me,” she whimpers.

Over and over, obsessed with the need to make her come, I bury myself into Savannah’s wet warmth, driving myself and herclose to the brink. I reach between our bodies with my thumb, rubbing her clit.

I feel it when she comes apart—the shudders that take over her body, her mouth falling into a soundless scream, and her core that squeezes me so tight I pull out mere seconds before I lose myself in her warmth.

I grit my teeth as I get off the bed, and hurry to the bathroom. With my hand on the wall and standing above the toilet, I curse under my breath as I get spent. Then I collapse on the seat, spending time there to catch my breath.

When I return to the room, I don’t see Savannah there. Instead, there is a note on the bed stating that she’s gone for a walk to clear her head and will be back soon.

My eyebrows furrow as I picture her head out of the room in just her camisole with torn straps and her pants—an odd combination for someone going on a walk to clear her head.

“Did she…,” I shake my head, refusing to voice the rest of my thoughts out loud. It doesn’t go away, though, and I lie on the bed, wondering if Savannah regretted the sex while I was in the bathroom, so she didn’t want to face me. That would explain her abrupt absence.

I brush my hand over my face, exhaling. Regardless of how I felt and the mutual consent, I should have stopped it from happening. I knew she needed someone, and I should have offered comfort and let it be. If she indeed left because she had regrets, then it’s my fault.

Chapter 14

Savannah

“Do you want breakfast?” Michael asks. “We should get something to eat before we leave.”

I am hungry. Ravenous. But I cannot tell Michael that because it means I would have to get the menu from his hand, and after yesterday, I don’t think I have the nerve to look at him.

Everything was fine until he went into the bathroom and sat there for an ungodly amount of time. If he had returned sooner, or perhaps if he said something. Either way, here we are in the awkward morning after, both thinking we never thought this would happen.

In the time it took, my brain to wean itself from the sex high, I got a text from Alice, saying that she heard about my case and asked if I needed her help in hiring a better attorney because it seemed like mine wasn’t doing anything for me.

I looked at the bathroom, and it dawned on me that I just had sex with my attorney. And I was the one who initiated it. Mortified, I got dressed quickly, wrote a note, and ran out ofthe room. I spent the night at the bar, drinking until I was sure Michael was asleep and I could return to the room.

I collapsed on the couch to wake up with him sitting on another chair, buried in his phone. And now, breakfast?

How can he act so calmly like nothing happened? We are still wearing our clothes from yesterday.

And he slept on the bed, too.

“Why are you so calm?” I blurt out after staring at him for an ungodly amount of time. “How could you be so…unbothered?” I add, seeing no other way out but to say how I feel.

“About what? Breakfast?”

I groan. “Not that. We had sex last night, didn’t we? I know I didn’t dream that.”

“Yes, we did,” he replies.

No sign of regret or acceptance. Right, I nod. This is Michael, who stays calm under pressure. But I can’t. I am the kind of person to say how or what I feel, or it will eat me alive.

“Aren’t you going to say anything about it, or are we to pretend that it never happened?”

He looks at me. “Which would you prefer?”

I throw my hands in the air, groaning. “That’s the thing with you. You know how to push my buttons. I asked you a question, so you have to answer that first.”

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