Page 12 of Filthy Rich Bosses

Chase chuckles, low and deep. "Feel good?"

I can only nod, words escaping me as he continues his ministrations. With a swift movement, he spins me around so my back is pressed against his chest. One arm wraps around my waist, holding me close, while his other hand resumes its exploration between my legs.

"Chase," I gasp, feeling his erection pressed against my lower back. "We shouldn't—"

"Shh," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "Don’t talk, just feel. Let go."

His fingers work their magic, and I find myself grinding back against him, chasing the building pleasure. The cool night air on my exposed skin contrasts deliciously with the heat of Chase's body behind me and the warm water surrounding us.

I'm teetering on the edge when I hear the distant sound of a car door slamming. My eyes fly open, but Chase doesn't stop.

"Chase," I pant, "I think someone's—"

He cuts me off with a particularly skilled movement of his fingers, and I cry out softly as I tumble over the edge. The world narrows to the pulsing pleasure between my legs and Chase's solid presence behind me.

As I come down from my high, I hear footsteps approaching. My eyes widen in horror as I see Grayson round the corner, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable as he takes in the scene before him.

"Oh shit," I mutter, sinking lower into the water.

Chapter 6

Tessa

Ifreeze, caught between Grayson's thunderous scowl and Chase's carefree grin. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. My wine buzz has instantly disappeared.

Grayson's piercing blue eyes narrow as he flicks them toward Chase before focusing his attention on me. "I hired you to train the dog, not the man-child," he snaps, his voice low and controlled but laced with anger.

Chase throws his hands up, that easy smile still playing on his lips. "It's like...ten at night, dude. She’s not on the clock anymore," he drawls, seemingly unfazed by Grayson's fury.

I can't help but admire Chase's ability to stay so relaxed in the face of Grayson's intensity. But then again, he doesn't seem to take anything seriously.

Grayson's jaw clenches, and I swear I can hear his teeth grinding from here. "That's not an excuse for—"

"Welp, I'm beat," I interject, forcing a yawn. "Long day of moving into your ridiculous mansion and all that. Night, boys!"

I don't wait for a response, slipping into the darker part of the pool and snatching up the towel that Douglas holds out. I’m well aware of all eyes on my naked backside as I get out of the pool. I quickly wrap the towel around me and don’t look back, practically sprinting up the stairs to escape the brewing storm. My heart's pounding as I slip into my room, closing the door with a soft click.

I lean against it, letting out a long breath. "Smooth, Tessa. Real smooth," I mutter to myself.

The room around me is cozy, if a bit bland. There’s a huge mahogany bed with two nightstands and a dresser to match. I’ve never had matchy furniture like this—it’s so incredibly boring. Off the main part of the room is a nook with an ivory overstuffed chair and a lamp. I guess rich people like to read in a spot like this. Not me—I preferred to be sprawled out on my bed.

It all feels very sterile but I did add a couple of homey touches. My favorite fleece blanket is draped over the bed, and a few framed photos of past rescue dogs sit on the nightstand.

I flop onto the bed, burying my face in my pillow. It smells faintly of lavender—fancy rich people detergent, I guess.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I groan, rolling onto my back to stare at the ceiling. Between Zeus, the apparent demon dog, Chase, the overgrown frat boy with magic fingers, and Grayson the brooding billionaire, I'm starting to wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew.

But then I think of all the dogs I could help with this fat paycheck. I can't give up now. I've faced worse than this.

I push myself off the bed with a sigh, rummaging through my suitcase for my favorite pajamas—an oversized T-shirt with a cartoon dog on it and some soft, flannel bottoms. As I change, I hit play on my phone, letting the soothing tones of my favorite true crime podcast fill the room.

"Come here, girl," I call softly to Lulu, patting the bed beside me. My loyal companion hops up, curling into my side with a contented huff.

I scratch behind her ears, murmuring, "Thank God you’re here with me. We’ll get through this together."

Grabbing my phone, I open the messaging app from the rescue. My heart skips a beat when I see a new message from Mia.

"Oh no," I whisper, opening it quickly. "Please be okay, Buddy..."

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