Page 53 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

Daegan smiled, letting out a breathy, “Right, that’s how it goes.” His hand tightened on hers, a silent “thank you” in the way his fingers traced hers.

Her lips hovered for a moment, her breath teasing his sensitive skin as her eyes flicked up to meet his. The anticipation made time feel stretched before she finally leaned in, closing the distance. Her tongue trailed leisurely along his length, savoring the way his body trembled for her.

She held his gaze, running her tongue along his length, relishing the taste and the way he shuddered and gasped at the contact. His head fell back, a low groan escaping his lips as he gave himself over to her completely, trusting her to lead him to the edge.

There was power in this, Kinsley realized, in the way his body tensed under her touch, in the quiet groans that escaped his lips. She could make this strong, commanding man come undone. This was her gift, and she intended to drive him just as wild as he’d driven her, to wring every ounce of pleasure from his body until he was lost to everything but the feel of her loving him with lips and tongue and wicked intent.

Daegan’s worldnarrowed to the wet heat of her mouth as Kinsley engulfed him, surrounding him in a blissful embrace that made his knees threaten to buckle. Kinsley wasn’t just taking him in—she was claiming him. The way she worked him, deliberate and confident, made it clear she was enjoying the power she held over him. His body responded as helplessly to her every touch as Kinsley did for him.

He tangled his fingers in her silky hair, not guiding or demanding (although that temptation lurked), but simplyneeding to touch her as he unraveled. The tip of his cock was hitting the back of her throat, and he couldn’t hold back the guttural moan that escaped him. “Fuck Kins, you’re taking me so good.” The hum of her approval vibrated around his length, and his hips jerked forward, chasing more of that incredible sensation.

But Kinsley was relentless, setting a pace designed to drive him out of his mind. She alternated long, slow licks from base to tip with quick, fluttering swirls around the sensitive head. Her hand joined her mouth, pumping the base of his shaft as she lavished attention on the rest of him. It was a devastating combination. Already he could feel the telltale tingle at the base of his spine, the tightening in his groin that signaled his impending release.

Her mouth was like a velvet furnace, searing him with its welcoming warmth. The wet glide of her tongue sent jolts of pleasure skittering down his spine, igniting nerve endings he didn’t know existed. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the symphony of her motions and the rasp of his own ragged breaths.

He looked down, wanting to imprint the erotic sight of her pleasing him into his memory forever. The image of her lush lips stretched around him, the hunger in her eyes as she glanced up at him through her lashes, nearly did him in right then and there. Her gaze held his, raw and electric, letting him see just how much she was enjoying this, how much she loved reducing him to a quivering mass of sensation.

The way she looked up at him, her eyes filled with unrestrained hunger and tenderness, unraveled something inside him. This wasn’t just about lust—it was about trust, about letting himself be vulnerable in her presence. It was sending him hurtling toward the edge.

Every mind-melting pull of her lips had his control slipping until it fractured. Fingers tightening reflexively in her hair, his thighs began to tremble; he couldn’t hold on much longer. Kinsley must have sensed it too, because she redoubled her efforts. Taking him impossibly deeper, she moaned around him like he was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

“Kins, you’re going to make me come,” he warned between staggered breaths.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and hungry. She wasn’t backing down. Every pass of her tongue, every subtle change in pressure, drove him closer to the edge. His breaths came shorter, his thighs tightening as he tried to hold on. But she was relentless, demanding him to let go, to surrender completely to her.

It was too much; the desire in her eyes and the wet heat of her sucking him down had him at the point of no return. With a deep groan, he let go. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over him as he emptied down her eager throat. Through it all, Kinsley held him steady, working him through the aftershocks until he was spent and sensitive. His fingers loosened in her hair as she milked the last drop with a grin.

She pressed a tender kiss to his softening cock before rising gracefully to her feet. Her arms wrapped around him as he fought to catch his breath. As he held her close, face buried in the crook of her neck, Daegan was suffused with a profound sense of desire and gratitude. This incredible woman had given him her trust, her care, a safe haven in which to lose himself and find himself anew.

Kinsley relished in his touch,a few drops of him still on her lips and in her mouth. Desire. Passion.Love?Is that what this was? She hadn’t wanted to admit it completely, but that was exactly what she felt. Love had controlled her too often, leading her to disappointment and rejection. Love was what gave her such a high from his touch. But did he really feel the same?

Daegan pulled her into his arms. “Kins, I…I really like this. What we have.”

What did they have exactly?Were they in an unofficial relationship? Were they dating? Or were they no more than just sexual partners? He was still her boss; was that what he meant?

Her heart said this was leading toward something serious—something real. But without confirmation from the man himself, it was like building a house on sand.

“Me too,” she agreed, wanting to ask for clarification, but afraid of the answer she might get.

Daegan pulled her into his arms like he was afraid to let her go. “There’s something about you. Something that makes me want more of…” His voice was hesitant as he trailed off; she wished she knew why. “This feels different.” He pulled her into a deep kiss instead of explaining what that meant.

This was different, she agreed, but where did that leave them?

When he kissed her at the door, he promised to see her in the morning. Of course. In the morning. For work. She smiled, still tasting him on her tongue. Locking the door behind him, she found herself sitting on the stairs where their bodies had just met again. She had to shift to find a way to sit that didn’t make the soreness worse, but it was worth it. Taking a deep breath, her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress as thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of a bullet.

This thing between them was intoxicating and all-consuming. Daegan had called it an addiction, and the truth ofthat made her shift her hips again. She craved him, his touch, his presence. It was as if Daegan Westerhouse was a lifeline she hadn’t known she needed. But wasn’t addiction dangerous? If Cameron or Brienne had described a new man as such, she’d have told them it wasn’t healthy.

Did Daegan really feel the same? Could there really be more to this than just sex? Or was she only getting her hopes up like a fool?

Her fingers trailed over the fine woodworking of each baluster, as if searching for answers hidden in their grooves. She sighed, wishing Granny was here right now—she would know what to say. Her heart was heavy as she tried to recall what Granny had said during her last breakup. Kinsley hadn’t said much about it.

As she pivoted on the steps to follow the next baluster down, her core found a new way to ache, and all she could think about was how she’d noticed a slight nick in one of the risers while Daegan had fucked her senseless. She wanted to believe his words, that this was more than just physical desire. But what if it wasn’t? What if she was building a future in her head that was doomed to crumble in reality? The idea of losing what they had—whatever this was—was almost more unbearable than the thought of never having it at all.

Daegan satin his study and poured himself a whiskey. It was late—he needed to sleep. But his mind wouldn’t quiet enough to let him find rest. He’d tossed and turned for over an hour until he threw the covers aside in defeat.

You said you wouldn’t, Westerhouse.

The whiskey burned its way down Daegan’s throat, a sharp, fleeting comfort against the knot that was growing tighter in his chest. The glass felt heavy in his hand, the etched crystal catching the dim light from the desk lamp, casting fractured patterns across the dark wood. Leaning back in his chair, his gaze drifted to the ceiling as he allowed himself to face the truth he had been avoiding all day.

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