My father turns my way and extends a hand toward me. “Congratulations, son,” he says. “You’re a good dad. I’m glad the judge was able to see that.”
I start to stretch my arm for a handshake but I stop myself. Instead, I pull my dad into a hug. Ma squeals when I loop an arm around her back and drag her into the family huddle, too.
“Thank you, guys,” I mutter, fighting the prickly ball clogging my throat. “Thank you for taking care of my girl while I was away.”
“Of course.” I can hear the deep cracks of emotion in my father’s voice as he pats my back with a strong paw. “We’d do anything for that kid. For you.”
Ma eases back and looks me in the face, tears shining in her own eyes. She cups my cheek in her hand. “Now’s your chance to start your new life, Eli. And I just want you to know that we’re rooting for you.”
Those words hit me hard. After being at odds with my parents for so long, it feels good to be on the same team as them at last. I stand in the middle of the hallway, feeling like I’m floating on the wings of possibility as I watch my parents walk away.
My little girl is at home with Jessa today. Now, I just want to get back to her, to both of them, to our little safe haven in the middle of the woods.
My mind flashes back to Jesssa’s reaction when she saw me emerge from the basement this morning. The nanny’s eyes did a slow head-to-toe examination of me and her cheeks turned rose pink. She says she likes seeing me in a suit.
I want to see her look at me like that again.
37
Eli
When I got back from court, Callie and Jessa were making hamburgers in the kitchen. I shared the good news with them, announcing that the judge had awarded me full parental rights. I had to explain it all to my daughter in kiddie terms. She squealed with delight and locked me up in one of her heartfelt hugs. It melted me to goo.
We’re solid with the courts. Finally. It’s such a relief. But even more important, my baby girl is starting to really know her father, and I couldn’t ask for a greater gift.
I caught Jessa surreptitiously pushing tears away from her eyes. When I poked fun at her for being a softie, she slapped me on the chest and then pulled me into a quick hug that lingered on my skin all day.
The three of us ate lunch together before going to hang out down on the dock. Jessa and I sat side by side on a big blanket as Callie wore herself out, chasing after frogs and trying to catch butterflies. Later, the nanny took Callie over to visit Penny and Walker’s twins and I got an hour to myself to fully bask in the victories of the day, to make plans for the future.
Now, the house is quiet. Callie is asleep and I’m sitting here in the dark kitchen. Waiting…
Fuck, I’m waiting for Jessa.
It’s been becoming a habit. Over the past few nights, we’ve been meeting up in the kitchen after Callie goes to bed. We’ve been spending hours sitting alone in the dark, whispering and laughing and getting hopped up on sugar and sexual energy. Enjoying each other’s company.
I know I shouldn’t be getting this close to the nanny but she's playful, sweet, vulnerable. She’s my secret indulgence. I’m addicted to the rush of being near her. After everything I’ve been through, she’s teaching me to have fun again and I just can’t stay away.
So far, our interactions have been innocent. But I’m beginning to realize that it’s only a matter of time before we get ourselves in trouble.
My heart starts thumping when Jessa emerges at the end of the hall and strides into the dark kitchen. "Fancy running into you here, Boss Man." Her mouth curls into a sexy, one-sided smile.
My eyes move up and down her body. I don’t even bother to hide it. She's not wearing any makeup. Her hair is wet from her shower and hangs like a dark curtain around her pale face. The long wet tendrils drip down the front of her fitted white T-shirt, emphasizing the tiny, puckered nipples beneath the fabric.
“I’m in the mood for your cake." My voice is husky, laden with double meaning.
Yes, I’m blatantly flirting with the woman. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
“I bet you’re in the mood for my cake,” she says, her tone matching mine. She winks and tosses her hair over her shoulder as she strolls past me, toward the pantry.
My attention wanders to her ass. And is it just me or are her shorts a little shorter tonight? Is there an extra sway in her hips?
She sets out the snacks on the island before grabbing a beer and a juice box from the fridge.
“Thanks,” I say, untwisting the beer top as she lowers onto the stool next to me.
I get a whiff of her sugary scent. My throat contracts and my mouth goes dry. I want to taste her so bad.
When I lift the bottle to my parched mouth, she grabs my wrist to stop me. “Wait—we need to toast.”
I turn to face her and quirk a brow. “Toast to what?”
Beside me, she punctures her juice box with her straw and grins. “To regaining legal custody of your daughter.” She raises her beverage.
My chest tightens hearing the words. “Fuck—yeah, to regaining legal custody of my daughter.” I clink my bottle against her box and she giggles at the ridiculousness of the gesture.
Her glittering eyes sober just a touch. “I’m really happy you officially got Callie back. You’re a great dad. She’s so lucky to have you.”
I go for a handful of caramel popcorn. “Thank you,” I say. “I can genuinely say I wouldn’t have been able to do this single dad thing without you, Jessa.”
Despite the darkness, I can see her blushing. “You don’t have to say that.” She peels back the wrapper on a mini chocolate cake and takes a little bite.
I drape my arm around the back of her stool and lean closer. I need her to look at me when I say this. “I mean it, Firefly. From the bottom of my heart. You’re amazing with my little girl. You’re an amazing nanny.”
Her cheeks flush when I call her that. I like it. “My job is easy. Callie’s a great kid. We get along so well.”
I snort and reach for my beer. “Maybe because you’re practically like a kid yourself.”
She screws up her face at me. Eyes squinted, lips puckered, nostrils crinkled up.
“What?” I ask clueless, with my drink halfway to my mouth. “Did I say something wrong?”
She sits a little straighter and mutters defensively, as if she’s got something to prove. “For your information, I’m no kid, Eli Kingston.”
Her tone of voice gets my attention. I stop what I’m doing to look at her. Really look at her. “Is that so?” I challenge, my words growing quieter, huskier.
Her eyes don’t leave mine. She snatches the beer bottle from my hand. “I maybe sweet and smiley but make no mistake—I’m a grown-ass woman, Boss Man.”
I watch as her lips close around the head of the bottle and she takes a long, slow, deliberate swallow of my beer.
My cock nearly flips up and overturns the table when she does that.
Shit. This woman is giving me all the signals and I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t make my move. Right now.
Still, I don’t want to read her wrong. I don’t have too much going for me in the finesse department. I’ve barely had contact with women over the past few years, and even before then, I was a married man, so I wasn’t exactly putting my flirting skills to use.
But the way she’s looking at me. She’s making me feel strong. Strong and big and relevant. And willing to take a chance. Even if I end up making a damn fool out of myself.
My focus settles on her breasts. Her tight little nipples strain against the fabric of her shirt. I want to gather her into my arms and taste them. “Your body definitely looks like a grown-ass woman,” I tell her.
She sways closer when I lick my lips. I get a hint of her sugar-scented skin.
“You smell like one.”
I drop my hands to her thighs and slide my palms up her smooth, smooth skin. Goosebumps break out at my touch. Her legs open a tiny bit wider.<
br />
“You feel like one.”
Her breath quivers. “I can guarantee that I taste like one, too,” she says, sounding edgy and impatient.
“What if I told you I’m going to need to test that theory?” My fingertips brush along the hem of her shorts before slipping beneath the fabric.
Her words come out as a whisper. “I’d say, be my guest.”
Jessa drops her head and I drop mine. Our foreheads press together. We’re breathing heavy. My fingers smooth down the back of her neck before sliding upward and tangling in her hair. Her presence throbs in the air. I can’t ignore this thing between us anymore.
Time to be honest with myself.
This girl is fucking magic and I love the way being around her makes me feel. I want to kiss her. I’ve wanted to kiss her everyday since the very first time our lips brushed together.
So I do it. I lift her chin and I close my eyes and I softly touch my mouth to hers.
Jessa releases a heavy, quivering breath against my lips. I nearly go crazy from the sensation. Her fingers curl around the back of my neck and she pulls me closer.
Oh, damn.
I part my lips and flick my tongue along the seam of her mouth, willing her to open up for me. And when she does, when she grants me the access I’ve been craving for so long, my tongue dances with hers. Then I suck her bottom lip into my mouth.
I taste cake and tropical fruit sensation and a sweet, tangy undertone of beer. But none of it as sweet as this woman's lust for me. She makes a whimpering sound and rubs her lips against mine as I haul her into my lap.
Abandoning her reservations, she presses her tits against my chest and rocks her pelvis along my hard-on. Those silky shorts of hers are great for the friction and I internally praise myself for wearing sweatpants tonight instead of jeans.
I kiss down the length of her neck and my hands roam everywhere—her long hair, her bare thighs, up the back of her shirt. I'm fucking desperate, frantic. Her fingers are in my hair and she makes the sweetest sounds, eagerly cheering me on.
But does she really know what she’s getting herself into? Does she really know what all of this would mean? If we actually have sex tonight, would she be prepared for the consequences of that?
I lift my head away from her neck and stare up at her perfect face. "How far are we taking this, Jessa?"
She looks into my eyes. She doesn't hesitate. "All the way."
When she says that, my heart starts pounding. I can’t wait another second to get her naked. With her ass cradled in my palms, I bolt to my feet. She kisses my face, pulls on my hair as I hurriedly stomp down the hallway in the direction of her room.
I drop her on the bed. I lock the door.
38
Jessa
Eli double-checks the lock. Then, he’s stalking purposefully toward the bed.
And, whoa—the look in his eyes.
My sweaty palms grip the sheets. My heart beats out a rhythm that makes no sense. I know I’m about to be devoured.
Without a word, he bends forward and possessively claims my mouth. He’s on top of me now, his big, hard body stretched out along mine. He’s kissing me with the passion of a man at war, a man fighting to save his own life. Chills sweep through me as my own survival instinct shuts off. I’m drowning in his intensity and I don’t even care to come up for breath.
He tears my shirt over my head and flings it god-knows-where. Then, he’s getting rid of my shorts and my panties and I’m naked and none of this feels real.
It’s him and me. In bed. Skin-on-skin. Just like I’ve daydreamed about a million times. I need to pinch myself because I’m living out a fantasy I never actually expected to come true.
Eli’s lips move along my jaw and down my throat, his warm mouth and rough beard tickling and thrilling me. “You’re so fucking sexy, Jessa,” he mumbles against my neck.
I bite down on my lip. I dare not open my mouth. I dare not tell him that I think he’s beyond sexy, beyond handsome, beyond perfect. I dare not tell him that he’s kind and he’s funny and he’s good, and that I see those things in him even when he’s being an asshole and doing his darnedest to shut the whole world out.
I dare not tell him that I’m falling in love.
Because Eli just wants to fuck. He wants to pin me to this mattress and use my body to find release. And I’m cool with that, too.
His trail of kisses moves downward. He strokes my breasts and teases my nipples before giving them attention with his tongue. I purr. I mewl. I writhe against the sheets.
He takes his time, marvelling over every inch of me, worshipping me like a deity come to life. By the time his kisses travel down my torso to my pelvis, I feel like I’m about to burst.
My breasts tingle. My spine arches. So much need. Building higher and higher inside me.
With a hint of a grin, he grabs the backs of my knees, spreading them apart. He lazily drags a finger through my pussy lips while he kisses the inside of my thigh, getting closer to my centre before drifting back toward my knee. He plunges two digits into my soaked, thrumming core. His fingers buckle and curl, every stroke making me lose a little bit of my sanity. The bastard is torturing me. All I want is his mouth on my pussy.
I try to recall the rules for scenarios like this. Good girls are willing to wait. Good girls are patient and polite. Good girls don’t state their needs and make demands. But when he spreads my folds and tenderly pets my clit with his tongue, the rulebook goes flying out the window. At this point, orgasms are a priority. And I just want to be bad.
"Eat my pussy," I moan frantically, rocking my hips, pleading shamelessly. "Dammit. Eat my pussy."
He lifts his head from between my thighs, eyebrow raised. "Miss Robson, is that any way to speak to your boss? I’m gonna have to take this up with human resources.”
“Oh god, Eli. Stop fucking around," I laugh breathlessly. "You're killing me." Squirming with impatience, I reach for his hand. I put it between my thighs, right where I want it.
And the bastard slaps my pussy.
How rude!
I gasp as pleasure explodes in my nipples. My pussy splurts and a flash flood of wetness gushes out. The strike didn’t hurt. Actually, it felt pretty fucking good. But it was definitely a shock.
The feminist in me rages. “What the hell was that for?” I hiss, leering down at him.
Eli soothingly strokes my clit as he speaks. “That was for thinking you’re in charge here. Lie back, relax and let me take my time with you.” My poor little button strains and throbs against his finger, begging for more friction.
“Do you have to be the boss in every area of your life?” I’m trying to argue but I’m not all that compelling, what with all the writhing and moaning I’m doing as the man fucks me with his hand.
He kisses and nibbles and licks a path down my hipbone. “No, not in every area. But in the bedroom? Definitely.”
Leaning down, he slicks his tongue through my folds in a long, leisurely motion. Then, he makes a twirling gesture on my clit. I swear—I yank a handful of hair out of my own head. At least, that’s what it feels like.
He lifts his face to speak to me. “I know you want it, baby. I know you want me to give it to you now. But it’s been so fucking long since I’ve been with a woman, and I’ve had my eyes on you for weeks now. When I get inside you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. So I need you to be ready for that.”
My eyes are wide and brimmed with tears of pleasure as I stare at him. My throat is too tight for words. All I can do is nod.
Grinning, he dives back in. His tongue strokes my clit before he sucks the throbbing little nub between his lips. I throw a forearm over my mouth and bite into my own flesh to keep from shouting.
He’s eating me now. Licking, sucking, kissing. Going all in. He may be the boss but he gets down to work.
My body curves and bucks against the bed and I do everything in my power to keep from screaming out loud, very aware that there’s an i
nnocent little girl sleeping one bedroom away.
But when he pulls my clit into his mouth and softly tugs with his lips nothing in this world can stop the freight train of pleasure that comes crashing into me.
My spine leaves the bed and I dig my fingers into the mattress to keep from levitating out of the room as the orgasm rushes through me.
Then I collapse. I lie there, panting, sweating from every pore as I try to pull my senses back into my body.
My boss crawls across the bed and comes to sprawl out next to me, a smug grin on his face. He lies on his side and brushes sticky hair from my forehead.
Still so hungry for him, I fist the front of his shirt and pull him into a deep, dirty kiss. He lets me push him onto his back to climb on top. My hands travel to his waistband, in search of his cock. I need it inside me. Now.
“Whoa, there.” He chuckles. “You sure you don’t need a minute?”
“For what?” I say breathlessly.
“I don’t know. To get yourself together.”
“Wha—? Huh?” I paw at the drawstring of his sweatpants.
He grins boyishly. “I’m trying to be a gentleman. Chivalry and shit. I thought you’d like that.”
“Do I look like I need a minute?” I growl, frantic and frustrated. “And what is up with this stupid drawstring?!”
He lays back and grins as I try—aggressively and unsuccessfully—to disrobe him. “You look like you need some cock.”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
Another deep chuckle moves through him. I love that sound.
“Take off your clothes, Eli. And fuck me.” I’m not too proud to beg for it.
Licking his lips, he lobs me off his body, shuffles off the bed and he rises to his feet. His gaze roams my naked, writhing body as he hovers at the side of the bed. He starts by shedding his T-shirt to display his chest in all its broad, muscled, throbbing glory. I feel a flood between my thighs. I just can’t believe all this ‘sexy’ is mine for tonight.
Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Page 19
