Page 153 of Bossy Hero

Hovering over me, he claims my lips in a scorching kiss that holds promises of what’s to come. While pulsing his tongue against mine in a delicious rhythm, he teases my clit with his first two fingers.

My hips tilt instinctively, increasing the friction. “Alan,” I rasp against his lips, unsure what I’m trying to say.

All I know is I want him.

“Madeline,” he rumbles, sending chills over my body.

His fingers maintain their tantalizing cadence over my sensitive pearl as he lowers his mouth to my breast. He suckles my nipple through my nightgown, dampening the fabric and dragging a moan from me.

All too soon, he withdraws his hand from between my legs and his mouth from my breast.

He swipes across his phone screen, taps a few times, and puts it to his ear.

The urge to stroke him while he makes the call is tempting me, but I quash it. Considering how things have been lately at Redleg, I’d imagine the topic deserves his full concentration.

Instead, I remind him of my request. “Speaker, please.”

Over the sound of the ring tone, he asks, “You really want to hear this?”

“Yes. I’m genuinely curious.”

He taps the screen again, setting the phone on his chest face up. “Fine.”

Alan starts talking as soon as the call connects.

“What is it, T?”

“You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

“Hard to sleep with someone lighting up my phone like a fucking Christmas tree. Why are you awake?”

“Something dawned on me, and I couldn’t sleep until I ran it to the ground.”

“And telling me about it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Tomer stammers preciously. “Oh. Well. I guess it could have. Sorry. Should I hang up?”

I cup my mouth with both hands to stifle my chuckle. Oh, I adore him. That darling boy is as clueless as can be.

“You already have my attention, son. What’s your revelation?”

Aww. I love it when he calls him that.

“The numbers on the second page of the message from the architect. They’re coordinates, followed by a date and time. It’s either a meet-up request or something big.”

A meeting? With who? The architect? Someone else?

Without question, I know Alan will want to go. And it terrifies me.

Alan shoots into a sitting position, grabbing the phone from his chest in the process. “When? Where?”

“Miami. But not until January.”

Nothing like getting things on the calendar well in advance. That’s more than four months away.

Alan vocalizes my internal musing. “Why so far out? What the fuck does he expect us to do until then?”

“Boss, I think this is the big one. When the architect will reveal everything. Expose whatever he’s got on Lenkov. And it ties into Huxley Bowen and whatever they’re trafficking via those cargo ship routes.”

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