Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  And the sight that greets me causes me to freeze in my strawberry-patterned socks.

  It’s Eli. Wet. Naked. Standing under the spray of the shower behind the transparent plastic curtain. Head down, back curved, hand between his thighs. Stroking up and down his shaft in rough, powerful movements.

  Hol-ee crap.

  My knees go weak. My arms give out. And the basket of dirty laundry hits the floor.

  In an instant, the top half of the shower curtain tears open and a panting, disoriented Eli stares at me with rivulets of water streaming down his hard, muscled, perfect upper body.

  When I spin for the door, my headphones fall out and I trip on his kicked-off sneakers and the overturned laundry basket. I manage to catch my footing and dart out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

  Heart screaming an erratic soundtrack, I slam my back into the wall right outside the bathroom door and slide down to the floor. I shut my eyes and slap both hands over my face, struggling to get my adrenaline under control.

  What am I doing? What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m doing. My brain is yelling, on full volume. Crouching down in the corner is a bullshit plan of action. I need to get out of here. Fast.

  The bathroom door crashes open. I hold my breath. I don’t move.

  My nerve endings can sense his presence but I don’t hear a sound. After a drawn-out beat, I spread my fingers a centimetre apart and dare to peel one eyelid open. With only the light spilling out of the bathroom, I see water pooling on the wooden floor around a pair of massive bare feet.

  Crapsters!

  “You know I can see you, right?” I hear my boss growl.

  Tentatively, I drop my hands from my face and my gaze ventures upward. I find the still-wet giant standing in the doorway, wearing only a flimsy towel and a scowl.

  Where’s my invisibility cloak when I need it? Maybe in the overturned laundry heap on the bathroom floor?

  With a squeak, I push myself up to my feet. “I didn’t—I mean, it wasn’t—well—”

  “This is unprofessional. You are my employee.” His words come out harsh and irritated. “I expected that I’d be able to maintain a little bit of privacy around here.”

  “I know. A-and I’m terribly sorry,” I say, my rushed words bumping and tumbling into each other. “It was a-an accident, and it won’t happen again.”

  He tips his head to one side. Hikes up an eyebrow. “Well, which is it?”

  “W-what?” I stutter, confused.

  “Was it an accident, or was it something within your control? Since you’re promising it won’t happen again.”

  “Both!” I blurt out. “No—the first one. I—I am sorry. Really, really sorry.”

  My neck and cheeks are flaming. I’m mortified. I dart around him and quickly stuff my dirty clothes and headphones into the laundry basket. Then, I swerve again, clothes hamper on my hip, and make a beeline for the stairs.

  I don’t get far before his large hand wraps around my wrist. The light force of the gesture causes my body to whirl back around so I’m facing him.

  God—we’re so close.

  And we’re so alone.

  And he’s so almost-naked.

  My eyes trace the defined lines of his torso. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, and it takes everything in me to avoid reaching out. To avoid running my palm over his bare, wet chest—

  “You can't, Jenny.”

  My eyes snap up to his cruel, magnificent face.

  “W-what?” I stammer.

  His gaze darkens, his jaw ticks. He takes one deep, harsh inhale. He drops my arm like its corrosive.

  “You think you can handle me. This body, this anger, this pain. But you fucking can't,” he spits out. “So just keep your distance. And I’ll keep mine. Because if I put my hands on you, I will destroy you. I will ruin you. Like I’ve ruined everything else in my life.”

  I suck in a breath, anger bubbling beneath my skin. How dare he? How dare he talk to me like that? With that pitying, condescending look in his eyes.

  My damaged pride refuses to be underestimated by this man. I’m suddenly so tired of being underestimated. I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m just some innocent, defenseless little thing. Especially this guy.

  I want him to see me as a woman.

  “Who are you to say what I can and can’t handle?” I challenge, taking a firm step closer. So close I have to tip my chin up to meet his eyes. “You don’t know me. You know nothing about me. Distance?” I scoff. “You’re one to talk about distance when your half-naked body has me cornered in your basement. How professional is that, Boss Man?” I feel my nostrils flare and his masculine scent fills my lungs. “We’re attracted to each other. That’s a biological thing. It’s not my fault. Stop trying to punish me for the fact that you want to fuck me.” I pin him with my best go-to-hell look. I let him have it. “And for the last effing time, my name is not Jenny.”

  Holy shit! Did I really just say all that? Out loud? To my boss? Usually, I’m not the sassy one. I’m not outspoken like my older sister. I’m the happy, bubbly, sunshiny one. The one who smiles and nods and doesn’t make trouble.

  I brace myself for the consequences of mouthing off to my boss. Eli opens his mouth, and I just know he’s going to yell at me. Hell—I’m probably about to get fired. I stand there shaking, waiting for my destiny.

  But in an instant, there’s a shift in the man’s brown eyes. It’s so intense, it makes the laundry basket slip from my grasp. His massive fingers plunge into my hair, his large torso pins me to the nearest wall and his hot, tantalizing mouth comes down on mine.

  14

  Eli

  I feel like a wild animal waking after the longest hibernation and I kiss her like she’s my very first meal. Every cell of my body is hungry, starving, desperate for nourishment. I consume her, I take her, and she yields so willingly. She’s completely at my mercy. And it’s obvious that she likes it.

  When my arms come around her waist and I haul her up against me, she makes a delicious, little whimpering sound. Her soft hands fall to my bare chest. Her fingers flex against my skin. I growl—I actually growl.

  I’ve wanted a woman’s hands on me. I’ve needed it. So I shut down my conscience, my reasoning mind, and I let the primal man in me take over.

  It’s all tongues and teeth. Slick lips sucking and rubbing and sliding against each other as fingertips and palms explore. Her touch trails down my bare torso and goosebumps cover me all over. My palms slide beneath her big, heavy sweater, up her back and at the feel of bare, warm, vibrant skin, I nearly come on the spot. Fuck, she’s not wearing a bra.

  My erection makes its presence known, hurling itself against her lower abdomen with pure abandon. Eager fucker. But when her fingers curl around the edge of my towel, ready to fling the fabric to the floor, my senses come rushing back.

  Dammit—this is the nanny. What the hell am I doing?

  I grip her hard by the waist, peeling her off of me, and I take a goddamned step back.

  My dick pulses. My brain yells. My blood feels too hot for my body. I stare at her, not knowing what to say, how to feel. She stands there, blinking up at me in the half-light, chest quivering, ponytail a mess.

  We both know we fucked up.

  She trails her fingertips along her swollen bottom lip. “Should I…should I go?” she asks in a whisper.

  I shove my hands through my hair and pull. “Yeah…You should go.”

  Fuck—I’m an asshole.

  Soberly, Jessa gathers her laundry into the hamper and climbs the stairs. Jessa. That’s her name. I feel like I’m losing a piece of my soul with each step she takes.

  Shirtless and barefoot, I pace the basement’s hardwood floor. Lust burns through me like a wildfire. I’ve never wanted a woman this badly. I know she thinks she wants me, too. But despite what she thinks she wants, that girl has no fucking clue what I’d do if I got her naked beneath me. If she knew what kind of man I am, she’d run far aw
ay and never look back.

  I should have just gone for that run like I’d planned to. But after stuffing my stomach with fluorescent orange pasta and hot dogs, I was feeling kind of lazy. When I went into the bathroom to change into my workout clothes, I decided that a cold shower would do the trick to get my lust under control.

  See what happens when you try taking the easy way out? Because the second I got naked, all I could see was her, bent over under the water, taking my cock from behind.

  Jesus—she walked in on me jerking off to my dirty thoughts of her and she doesn’t even know it.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  I'm lonely. I'm broken. I'm horny as hell, answers a voice deep inside me. But surely, fucking the nanny is never the answer...Right?

  ...Right?

  Right!

  I’m unraveling. Even my moral code is in the shitter.

  Maybe I should go apologize to her. Tell her I was wrong for putting my hands on her in the first place. But she’s the one who barged in on me in the shower when I told her to knock first.

  And now, I’m getting hard again at the thought of the wanting look on her face when she saw me touching myself. This is insane.

  I yank on the ends of my hair, letting out a frustrated roar. I need sex. I’ve gone too long without it. But the nanny is not an option. Abso-fucking-lutely not.

  Yeah, she’s beautiful. And she’s got a sexy, little body. But I will not bang the nanny. That would be a terrible idea. I’ve already had my share of trouble, and I’m not intent on collecting more. Plus, there’s her personality. It’s an issue. She’s so…bubbly. Innocent. Always smiling. Laughing. Running around. Untainted by life.

  It’s clear that she’s the kind of woman who’s had it easy. Everything handed to her. I imagine that the worst she’s probably experienced is a little scratch from a wounded animal she was trying to rescue. Yeah—she’s got that Snow White vibe written all over her.

  And me? I’m an ex-convict.

  I won’t be the asshole to ruin her. She and I are completely wrong for each other. Even for a casual hookup. And ‘casual’ is unrealistic, anyway. We live under the same damn roof.

  One thing is clear—I can’t do this whole celibate choirboy thing anymore. I’m a grown man. I need to get laid.

  Mind made up, I pull my duffle bag out from under my couch. I grab one of Monica’s notes but instead of sitting back and getting comfortable with my dick like usual, I search for a pen and paper.

  I know I promised myself that I wouldn’t write to her, that I’d just let it go and focus on rebuilding my life. But it’s obvious that if I don’t have sex soon, I’ll do something very, very stupid. I need a real woman. I need a woman who has lived. Someone who has seen some shit. Someone more like my prison pen pal. That woman didn’t shy away from sharing her darkest fantasies with me, and even though we’ve never met, I felt a connection from the very beginning.

  So, I sit in the dark basement and I write out my dirtiest letter yet. I tell Monica I want to see her in person. I tell her exactly what I’ll do to her when we meet up. Then, I stick the paper into an envelope and drag my hands down my face.

  This feels wrong. So very wrong. Especially now that I’ve tasted Jessa’s lips. My heart says don’t do it. But my heart has been wrong before.

  I don’t trust that fucker for shit.

  15

  Eli

  I lie in bed, reluctant to open my eyes and face the day, knowing that the moment I do, I’ll have to tackle the uncomfortable truth; I definitely crossed the line with Jessa last night.

  The woman works for me, cares for my daughter and sleeps inside my house. I should have kept my damn hands to myself. Instead, I let my lust take over and make a mess out of everything. And now, I’m trying to act like hiding out down in the basement is the answer. Jeez.

  Eventually, I man up and drag my ass out of bed. I trudge up the basement steps, headed toward my doom. If my memory serves me correctly, today is the first of Jessa’s two days off so I’m guessing she’s eager to hand off the baton to me and hightail it out of here. It’s wrong to keep her waiting.

  Cartoons play low on the TV in the living room. I step into the kitchen and find Jessa getting Callie set up at the table with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and fruit.

  My daughter looks at me with an enchanting, little grin. “Good morning, Daddy.” My child’s voice is quiet and sweet.

  “Good morning, Cal.” I sit at the table next to her and run a hand over her messy hair. “Did you sleep all right?”

  She nods vigorously and beams. “I dreamt that we went fishing down by the river and I caught a dolphin on my fishing pole!”

  “What?! A dolphin?” I exaggerate my shock and collapse against the back of my chair. That makes Callie grin wider.

  “Yes, a dolphin!” She claps her hands. “He smiled right at me. Right in my face. Can you believe that, Daddy?” The child is practically twinkling with enthusiasm.

  Jessa says nothing, choosing instead to stifle a smile as she pours orange juice into Callie’s plastic cup.

  “Wow, that’s a super cool dream,” I tell my little girl. “I think we’re going to need to go down to the river and see if we can catch any dolphins later today. Does that sound good?”

  Callie nods so hard I’m afraid her head is going to snap off her neck. “That sounds good!” she declares.

  “So, how about we finish breakfast, clean up the kitchen, then go fishing. Deal?” I extend a hand to my daughter.

  “Deal.” Her tiny fingers curl around my long ones. She beams, clearly feeling like a grown up as we shake hands.

  When my gaze bumps into Jessa’s, her cheeks go insta-pink. I feel a sharp twinge in my cock. Shit—when she looks at me like that, I have a hard damn time regretting that kiss.

  She gives me a shy, adorable smile. “I made a pot of coffee and we have some scrambled eggs leftover. But if you want something else, just let me know what you’d like.”

  What I’d like? What I’d like is to take her to my room, toss her onto the bed and feast on every inch of her like a motherfucking buffet. Instead, I rise from the table. “Thanks. I’ll just grab myself a cup of coffee.”

  We dance around each other in the kitchen as we each prepare our own breakfast. Her ass brushes against my thigh when she wiggles her way past me to slip a slice of bread into the toaster. My torso squeezes her against the counter when I open the fridge to grab the milk. Our fingertips brush when we both reach for the same spoon at the same time. We work side-by-side as she stacks eggs onto her plate and I stir sugar into my coffee.

  The tension is killing me.

  Finally, Jessa pulls in a sharp breath. She glances up at me. “I think we need to talk.”

  I pull in a breath of my own, completely on edge at her request.

  Well, here goes nothing…

  “Fine,” I mutter and follow her to the weatherbeaten porch. As much as I’d just like to pretend that nothing happened, we do need to have this conversation.

  We’re adults. We kissed. No big deal. It doesn’t have to be weird, if we’re not going to make it weird…

  I lean against the house as Jessa drops down onto the wooden bench.

  Her eyes stay downward. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us, y’know?” She picks at her polished nails. “I shouldn’t have walked in on you in the shower. We shouldn’t have kissed. You’re my boss, and I really need this job.” Her doe eyes finally flick up to mine.

  Logically, I know all that. Every word she’s saying is true. But I can’t help but feel bitter at the fact that she’s the one shutting this down, drawing a boundary in the sand. I feel…rejected. Dammit—when it comes to this girl, my feelings make no sense.

  I scoff bitterly. “Nothing to feel awkward about.” I say, shrugging. “All good girls have their bad boy fantasy and you clearly got it out of your system last night. You’ve satisfied your curiosity, so I don’t expect you to come sniffing around
the ex-con again.”

  Jessa’s jaw nearly drops into her lap. Her face quickly transforms from utter disbelief to pure fury. She goes from sweet, innocent butterfly to little angry pixie in a flash.

  She rushes to her feet, stepping right up to me. So close her tits are nearly brushing against my stomach. “You really have some nerve, Eli Kingston—”

  The sound of tires crunching on my gravel driveway interrupts whatever she was about to yell at me. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved. I kind of want to feel her wrath. If I can’t allow myself to indulge in her light, I’d settle for playing around in her dark side.

  But Cannon’s pretentious sportscar is rolling to a stop right by the porch. He slams the door and climbs out. My brother approaches, his eyes darting between me and Jessa where we’re standing on the porch, ready for a showdown. “Hey guys…Everything okay here?”

  I swing my gaze back to Jessa. Now’s your chance, baby, I tell her with my glare. But instead of letting me have it like I deserve, she backs down. I’ve got to admit—I’m a little disappointed.

  “It’s my day off—thankfully,” she grits out. “I have to go get ready to leave. Excuse me.” She glares at me until I move out of her way, freeing her path to the door.

  My brother and I stand in silence for a bit. He leans against the pillar opposite of me and we both stare out over the woods. “Those Robson sisters are something else, huh?”

  He’s married to Jessa’s older sister so I guess he would know. In any case, I don’t know what he thinks he saw a few moments ago, but I’m not going to give him anything to run home about.

  I cross my arms over my chest and eyeball him. “What are you doing here, Cannon?”

  “Well, first off, thanks for the warm greeting.” He snorts.

  I don’t share his amusement. I give him a stony face in return.

  Huffing, he slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks and cuts to the chase. “There’s an executive position at Kingston Realty for you. If you want it.”