Page 83 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“Come with me, baby,” she pulls my face down and takes my mouth in hers. She slips her tongue into me as I go deeper, and she whines into my mouth.

It’s all too much. My thighs tense, and she wraps her legs around me as her back arches off the couch. This is it.

“Fuck!”

We come together, her name on my lips, mine on hers. The world falls away, and for a moment, it’s just the two of us, wrapped in each other’s arms, completely lost in the moment.

Afterward, we lie there, tangled in each other, both of us too spent to move. Leah rests her head on my chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my skin, and I can’t help but think about how far we’ve come. How much has changed since that night in Rome all those years ago?

She breaks the silence, her voice soft. “You know. In a month. It’ll be six years since we met.”

Six years.

Looking back, it’s one of the best days of my life and also one of the worst. I can’t believe it’s been that long since the day we met in Rome. Since the day I failed to save my brother.

I close my eyes, trying to push the memory away. But it’s always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. It haunts me even now.

Leah falls asleep in my arms, but I can't find peace. I can only think about my brother and how I’ll never find closure.

Maybe I don't deserve it. Perhaps I don’t deserve her.

Chapter twenty-nine

Leah

My stomach feels likeI swallowed a bag of rocks and washed it down with a gallon of regret. I’m not sure that simile makes sense, but that’s how I can best describe my feelings. Okay, I feel like a wilted flower in a storm. I don’t think that’s any better.

I roll over in Silas’s bed. The silk sheets are cool against my skin, but they do nothing to ease the bloated, queasy feeling that’s been gnawing at me since I woke up.God, why do I feel like this?

The room is quiet, too quiet.

Silas is at the studio, probably surrounded by protesters yelling his name like he’s some kind of villain. And Caleb’s off to school, dealing with his own set of battles.

I should get up, shower, and shake off whatever this is. Maybe it's stress—more like my life imploding, thanks to my father—and less like some kind of flu.

I don’t know.

I drag myself out of bed, the floor cold under my bare feet, and head to the bathroom. The mirror shows a version of me I barely recognize: messy hair, face a little paler than usual, and eyes slightly puffy from lack of sleep.

I shower, hoping the hot water will rinse away the nausea, but no such luck. I still feel off, like my body’s playing a sick joke on me, and I’m the punchline.

After I get dressed in black high-waisted jeans, a cropped white sweater, and my favorite brown ankle boots, I call Penny. She picks up on the second ring, her voice full of energy, like I didn’t just wake her.

That’s Penny for you. Alwayson.

“You up?” I ask. Stupid question, I know.

“For you? Always.”

“Aw, you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Uh-huh, so you’re finally awake from your little romantic sleepover with Daddy Dearest?” she teases, and I can practically hear her smirk through the phone.

I groan. “Don’t call him that. It’s weird.”

“Fine, fine. But you can’t pretend you didn’t just spend the night in his king-sized bed while the world thinks he’s some kind of . . . predator. Gross.” Penny sighs dramatically.

“Thankfully, I don’t care what the world thinks,” I lie through my teeth.

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