Page 42 of Boost

“Old fashioned; double.”

He gave me an approving nod. “Skipping the champagne tonight?”

I scoffed. “Do I look like a champagne kind of guy to you?”

Despite doing well to mostly hide his chuckle, his amusement showed. “No. You look like the kind of guy I’d be hiding from my boyfriend.”

My jaw dropped and a long, rolling laugh piled out as the barman set a heavy-bottomed tumbler in front of me.

I lifted it with a flourish. “Well… your boyfriend must have good taste in men.”

The guy grinned and pointed to himself.

Smiling and shaking my head, I tilted the liquor to my lips and turned to face the room. Bourbon, bitters, and a hint of sugar water slid over my tongue in the perfect ratio, momentarily distracting me from the men in tuxedos and women in evening dresses around me.

“There’s something to be said for a tattooed man in a tux.”

My attention snapped right, and fuck me, the beauty of Boss Lady punched the air from my lungs.

“Fuck, mamacita!”

I sucked in an audible hiss through my teeth as I took her in. I hadn’t seen her since I dry-fucked her in her office, and Christ,the memory rushed back with surprising clarity. My eyes licked one continuous line from the thin strings disappearing over her shoulders, rounding every seductive curve on her body, before dropping to the blood-red fabric pooling at her feet.

“There’s something to be said for a dress likethat,Boss Lady.Turn for me,” I demanded.

A coy little smile lit her eyes as she turned and looked back over her shoulder.

Mistake. There was no back to the dress until just before her ass. All that honeyed skin on display had my cock aching.

Subtly facing the bar, I made a quick adjustment, then took a sip of my liquor.

“Turn around, dammit. Back to the bar so I know no one else is getting hard over what I’m seeing.”

“It’s sexy, huh?”

I glared and pursed my lips. “Don’t toy with me, Greer. There’s only one way it will end up, and that’s me finding a room to fuck you in.”

Her jaw fell, and she dashed a stricken glance around the room, visibly paranoid that someone had overheard. I set a hand on her waist and leaned close to her ear, ensuring that my fingertips connected with her exposed back.

“Don’t worry, mamacita, no one will hear. I’ll be sure to cover your mouth to hush your screams.”

“Raf,” she said breathlessly, before her attention flicked over my shoulder.

The swirling heat faded from her eyes. I twisted to see who had pulled her attention from me and found myself frowning at a cocky suit who matched me for height and arrogance.

“Ah, there you are, Gree,” he declared, and dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

I resisted the urge to subtly bring her closer to my side, and that was purely due to the genuine smile on her face.

“Good timing, Tian. This is Rafael Ortiz.” Greer indicated to me, and Tian thrust his hand into the space between us.

“Christian Michaels, of Landon-Michaels PR.”

He was all chiseled jaw, sharp hazel eyes, and stylish brown hair that complimented his impeccably classy suit.

“Rafael Ortiz, entrepreneur,” I stated, shaking his hand with purpose. I, too, was a businessman—I just ran in different circles from this jumped-up pretty boy.

Christian gave me a dubious look and dropped his focus to the tattoos adorning my throat. I squared my shoulders and eyed him down my nose.

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