Page 18 of The Wrong Boss

“Love the look on your face when you come,” he told me, hand working between my legs. “Can’t wait to watch you come on my cock, sweetheart. Have you squeeze me just like you’re squeezing my fingers. Feel you flutter on my shaft like the perfect, good girl you are.”

When Cole dipped down and kissed away the tear that escaped the corner of my eye, another wave of pleasure smashed into me, stronger than the first. My voice was raw when I cried out his name, when I finally broke and said, “I need you—need your cock. Please?—”

He was inside me to the hilt in the next second. The pleasure of it was so intense I could do nothing but cling to him as I let myself get carried away by it. At some point, Cole let go of my wrists. I would find out later that I left long red scratch marks down his back, but in the moment it felt like pure survival.

I heard him praise me. Heard him tell me how good I felt, how much he loved watching me come, how long he’d waited to feel something as good as me. I heard the raw, frantic tenor of his voice as he said my name. But all I could do was ride the moment out and hope I survived the aftermath.

I did—barely. And then I survived the way he took me from behind up against the shower wall an hour later, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as we both tried to ignore the ticking clock above our heads telling us that this would be over soon. I relished the feel of his arms around me, the way he clutched mychest as he drove himself inside me, the warm spill of his orgasm against my inner thigh. He slid one arm down between my legs to feel the slickness of his release against my skin, and we stood trembling under the spray for long, silent moments.

When I turned and leaned my forearms against his shoulders, he nudged my nose with his and pressed a too-tender kiss to my lips.

Too tender because I knew what he was telling me without having to utter a word.

He was saying goodbye.

We washed, dried, and dressed. I gulped as he buttoned his cuffs, feeling the words on the tip of my tongue. All I had to do was ask him for his phone number. This didn’t have to be the last time we saw each other. It didn’t have to be the end.

Dark eyes met mine, and I was once again struck by the fact that I didn’t know this man—not really. I couldn’t read his expression the way I wanted to. I didn’t know if he was inviting me to open the door to something more or simply trying to gauge if it was the right time to make his escape.

He closed the distance between us, brushed a thumb over my cheek, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

And maybe that tender touch was a gift, because it terrified me more than the intensity of the sex or the delight of our chemistry. If I spent any amount of time with this man, I’d fall for him.

And when I fell, I’d break.

I knew it, because that’s what had happened with Derek. As I’d driven away from our shared apartment, I’d vowed that I would take some time to get to know myself. That I would growand learn and only give myself to a man if I was sure I could stand on my own feet—and if I was sure I wouldn’t end up worse off for loving him.

I couldn’t be sure of that with Cole, and for once, I had to choose myself.

He pulled away from me, and this time I could see the softness in his gaze. I almost cracked. Almost asked to see him again, even though I knew it would be bad for me.

Almost—but not quite.

“Cole,” I said, maybe just to have his name on my tongue one last time.

“Carrie,” he answered.

I smiled sadly, and understanding filled his gaze.

“Take care of yourself,” he said.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Next time you attack someone, make sure they’re not carrying a weapon. I’d hate for you to get killed because I wasn’t there to save you.”

Clicking my tongue, I shoved him toward the door. “When I need to be saved, I’ll come running,” I promised.

His laugh was low and genuine, and he glanced at me one last time before pulling the door open. He parted his lips as if to say something, then gently shook his head, turned, and walked out of my hotel room—and out of my life.

The silence pressed against me until I heard the whirr of the elevator doors opening and closing, and I knew he was gone. Wrapped up in a fluffy white hotel robe, I glanced at the crumpled dress I’d managed to fling over a chair before ourshower and wondered if it would be worse to skip the rest of the wedding, or go back downstairs looking as I did.

My purse buzzed, and I pulled out my phone to see a message from my cousin asking me where I’d gone. That was as good a sign as any, so I pulled my hair back into a slick bun, brushed on a bit of makeup so I’d look vaguely presentable, then slipped on my dress.

Before I even made it to the ballroom where the reception had devolved into a raucous party, I’d already decided that I wouldn’t tell anyone about what had just happened. It was my illicit little secret—a memory I’d keep locked away in my heart to remind me that life could be exciting and fun and thrilling, but that in the end, I could always choose myself.

I slapped a smile on my face, and with one last glance toward the lobby where I was sure I wouldn’t see Cole, I decided that that little interlude had been intense and fun, but it was over—and that was for the best.

As it turned out, I was wrong.

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