Page 61 of Boss Me

Not that I’d seen it. We’d kissed a lot since yesterday on the jobsite, late into the night until we fell asleep cuddled on the couch. Another makeout session after breakfast. But every time his hand wandered to my waistband, I gently removed it. Seeing each other naked was a point of no return. Were we ready for that?

When he’d emailed me his resignation letter, it hadn’t felt right. He seemed happy enough about it, but I worried. What would happen if this thing we were trying out together didn’t last? Then he’d be out of both a relationship and a job. Would he take money from me to get back on his feet after? I suspected he wouldn’t. He hadn’t taken money from his parents when he dropped out of college. Ben Levy-Walters was a proud man.

I should have been the one to make the sacrifice, to resign. Though resigning was a bigger step for me. It required succession plans and transitions. No matter how much I’d wanted to do it when I first got to the island, I couldn’t simply walk away. The people who worked for Synergy—who were my responsibility as COO—deserved more.

I half-wished Ben were still one of those people. He’d be so much easier to protect as an employee than as my lover.

And that’s why, ignoring how much I wanted to explore every inch of his skin, to learn his tastes, his scents, to hear the sounds he’d make when he was desperate with arousal, I’d kept two barriers between us, and one of them was our clothes.

This morning, when his eyes turned molten and golden and he inched his hand up my thigh, I went for a run where he couldn’t follow with his sprained ankle. After lunch, I went to the weight room.

But now he’d found me on the couch. And he looked like that.

“Get dressed.” It was the ever-so-slightly snappish voice he used in the office when I was running behind schedule and needed to make a meeting or a flight. The voice that made me want to delay a bit longer so he’d use it again.

“Dressed?” I set my laptop aside, the one with the second sell order pulled up. Once I executed it, I’d still be a major stockholder, but Jackson would have all the control. He could decide if he wanted to stay or wash his hands of the company—and me. I hadn’t been able to click the button to execute the trade yet. Every time my finger hovered over the trackpad, it started to itch.

“We’re going out. Wear your suit pants and that charcoal dress shirt. No tie.”

My breath stuttered. “Out?”

“You’ve kept me in this house for three days. As much as I like you, I need to see other humans.”

“But what if that guy—”

“Mateo hasn’t seen anyone. It was a random attack, and that guy is long gone. Look.” He propped his hands on his hips. “I’ve given you time to process. And if you’ve decided you don’t want to do this with me, that’s okay. Just tell me now.”

“No, I—I do. You resigned, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know.” His lush mouth compressed into a thin line. “Don’t make me regret it.”

I stood and paced to the slider on the pretext of letting Coco outside. Dutifully, he trotted through the door to visit the bougainvillea.

My back to Ben, I asked, “Do you regret it? Because I haven’t forwarded your resignation letter to human resources yet.” The other barrier.

“Why the hell not? I’m all in. Unless you’re not?”

I whirled to face him. I hated the uncertainty in his voice. Uncertainty that I’d put there. “I’m in.”

“Then get dressed. We’re going dancing. With Ramón and some of the other guys here at the resort.”

“Dancing?” I stared at his ankle. His skintight jeans flowed smoothly over it, hiding any swelling. “You can hardly walk. How are you going to dance?”

The twinkle in those whiskey eyes was wicked. “I don’t dance with my feet, Cooper.”

Fuck. Now all I could imagine was the undulation of Ben’s hips. My throat went dry and, like a robot, I marched to my room and put on exactly what he’d told me to. I brushed my teeth and shaved for the second time that day.

I nicked my jaw when I made the mistake of remembering how Ben looked in his jeans. He didn’t have to wear those tight clothes for me. I salivated over him in his bright golf shirts and Bermudas. I dabbed at the cut with a tissue. Besides, I danced only when I had to. The last time had been at Jackson’s wedding in the fall. With Marlee, after our toast. And with Jamila. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d danced with someone I was desperate to fuck.

I finished shaving and put some cream in my hair to smooth it. The shaving nick had closed up, and I looked like I was ready for a casual-Friday meeting at the office. Not at all like a man who went to clubs and fucking danced. Were those gray hairs at my temple? Thank God I hadn’t let this…this whatever-it-was go any further. Ben could still reconsider.

I stomped out of the master suite to stand in front of Ben where he perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter, flicking through his phone. When he looked up, I held out my arms. “Do I meet your approval?” I spun in a circle.

When I faced him again, he was biting his lip. “Absolutely, Mr. Fallon.”

I supposed that was one advantage of Ben’s tight pants. A snugger fit to mine would have kept my dick from bulging away from my leg. I turned away to hide my reaction and texted Mateo to bring the car around.

Ben must have taken care of it already because when Mateo pulled up a minute later in one of Luis’s SUVs, Ramón was already in the front passenger seat. He descended from the car and offered Ben his place. I wedged my long legs into the third row of seats next to Ramón. The middle row was occupied by a trio I recognized as two of Luis’s waiters and a bartender.

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