Page 68 of Boost

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, giving me the same look I’d used on her countless times to date.

“How do you feel about me fucking someone else?”

“The fuck!” I reared back and fumbled as the forgotten condom slipped.

Dividing my attention between tying it off and glaring at her, I hissed, “Your pussy is off-limits to all motherfuckers since the day I fingered you in my Porsche. Shit!”

I vibrated with agitation as my control of the situation quickly disappeared and spiraled into unknown territory.

I hadn’t realized she meant so much to me, and it took being confronted while in a compromising position to wake me up to the fact that, yes, this girl was fuckingmine.

Climbing from the couch ass-buck-naked, I binned the condom and took a few minutes in the bathroom to pull myself together. I returned to find Greer sitting on the couch with her skirt back in place and her eyes fixed on me. She watched my every move as I pulled on my boxer-briefs and jeans.

“You really are fully covered,” she mused aloud, while the weight of our unfinished conversation hung in the air like lead.

I focused on doing up my jeans’ button. “Ink from neck to cock, mamacita. You like them?”

Her eyes worked over my exposed torso again, taking in my tattoos in a way that started to rekindle my sexual appetite.

“I do.”

Smiling and throwing my arms wide, I performed a slow spin so she could see me in all my glory.

I got my first tat at seventeen. From there, it quickly escalated into an addiction that I didn’t want to tamper. The ink hid my scars—both on my skin and ones I locked deep—and they were a huge part of who I was today.

“And I like that you’re unmarked,” I replied, sliding onto the couch without bothering to put on my t-shirt.

“You do?”

I looked her over, drinking in her smooth, honeyed skin with a scattering of freckles along her collarbones and chest as if she’d been sprinkled with grains of brown sugar. I ran my fingertips along the trail and smiled softly at the subtle change to her breathing.

“I do. And I like the way you react to my barest of touches.”

Dipping low into her cleavage to prove my point, I then smoothed my way to the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to mine. Now that I’d had a taste of her, I couldn’t get enough; I feared I never would.

“Raf?”

My gaze found hers. They held determination I couldn’t look away from. Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine, just as mine endlessly searched hers. Both probing, both seeking answers. Both confused by what we felt and trying to figure that shit out.

“I need it to be black and white. No gray areas. I need to know exactly where we stand and exactly how you feel about me, so I’m not left guessing from one day to the next.”

“We’re exclusive,” I murmured against her lips. No one else was getting a taste of her—not while I was still this side of the grave.

She let out a shaky exhale. “You really mean that?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m not the kind of guy to say shit I don’t mean. A good friend once told me that one day I’d fall under the spell of a voodoo pussy. You can imagine what I said to that.” I snorted. “Never thought I’d see the day when a woman wanting more wouldn’t send me running for the hills, or kicking her out. But fuck me, here we are and I want it. I want more with you, and I don’t really know what else to say.”

Smoothing a thumb across her plump bottom lip, my heart softened infinitely more when an affectionate smile broke out. It illuminated her entire expression.

“I really like you, Raf.”

“I really like you, too, Greer.”

“In saying that, we still need to set professional boundaries.”

Fuck, back to that again. Stealing one last kiss before reclining onto the couch again, I set my hand on her thigh and rolled my head her way.

“No kissing or fucking at the office. Got it.”

---