The Boss's Son Box Set

by Sierra Rose

  Even in her tipsy blur, Britt stopped. She took a good look at him, golden and lean, muscled in the right places. His black hair fell across his face, his breath coming fast. She ran her hands across the breadth of his shoulders, down his arms, savoring every line and curve of him. He caught her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. It was strikingly intimate, holding hands with him like this, feeling the warmth of his palm pressed flush against her own, their fingers knotted together. He raised their joined hands and kissed hers. Looking at their intertwined fingers, she blinked hard, unsure for a moment where she ended and he began. Breathless, she lifted her face to be kissed. She could kiss him forever, she thought, just sinking into the blaze he ignited in her.

  Jack kissed her, never releasing her hands from his. She pulled him toward the bedroom, but he stood stubbornly still, nipping at her lips and licking the roof of her mouth as she trembled. Britt pressed her chest against his, feeling his hardness against her stomach and rubbing against him. At last he dropped her hands and grasped her hips, dragging her against him so she could feel the fullness of his arousal. She made a humming sound in her throat without meaning to as the excitement rose to fever pitch. Mirroring him, she held his hips, her hands sliding around to grip the muscled curve of his ass. With a shiver, she imagined his thrusts, imagined digging her fingertips into his backside, urging him on as he drove into her, strong and relentless. His mouth was on her neck, blazing a path down between her breasts. He bent her back over his arm and took one nipple in his mouth, making quick work of reducing her to moans with his tongue and teeth.

  Jack pulled her leg around his hips, his thigh pressing between her legs, rubbing against her needy wetness. Returning his mouth to hers, he tugged at her ponytail holder.

  “I want your hair down,” he breathed and she nodded as he released her hair and it fell loose along her bare shoulders.

  “I want you to take me to bed,” she insisted.

  “What if that’s too far away?” he asked with a wicked grin.

  Jack scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the couch. She sank into the soft cushions and held up her arms immediately, beckoning to him. She frowned when he left her there to rummage in his jeans. He came back with a condom, and she was so excited she could hardly wait for him to put it on. Britt reached for him, eager, impatient.

  “Please. Now,” she said, looking in his eyes and surprised by the intensity there, the focus.

  “Not yet,” he said, rubbing his lips against hers teasingly. “We’ve got all night.”

  Chapter 5

  He knelt on the couch above her and drew her up to her knees to meet him. Jack wrapped his arms around her, holding her, kissing her lips as their whole bodies pressed together. Shuddering with bliss, Britt wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back with passion. She wasn’t used to being held during sex, or indeed at all. It was romantic, affectionate—confusing and addicting. She pulled back and kissed his cheek impulsively.

  “What was that for?”

  “For being so nice,” she said.

  “Nice isn’t good enough. I’ll just have to try harder,” he said mischievously, sliding his hands down her sides and feeling her shiver.

  “You’re more than good enough, Jack,” she said earnestly.

  “I want this to be the best you’ve ever had,” he said, kissing her lightly, looking in her eyes.

  “You already are,” she admitted with a small sound that might have been a sob.

  “Really?” he asked. “Because I can do so much better if you’ll give me the chance.”

  Nudging her lips open, he teased her tongue into his mouth and sensuously stroked his tongue against hers, seeming to mate with her mouth. It was so intimate that she wrapped her arms around him more tightly, wanting everything. Wanting to be held by him, be kissed by him, to be made love to so thoroughly that she lost herself in him completely. She felt oddly emotional, felt close to him somehow, not just physically.

  Jack eased her down onto the couch facing him.

  “I don’t want to miss anything. I want to see your face,” he said softly against her mouth. He brushed his lips against hers, a tender, sensuous prelude.

  His fingers trailed down her body. He caught her leg behind the knee and hooked it over his hips. Then he fell to rubbing her lower back, stroking her backside. He slipped his hand between her legs, his fingers teasing at her slit as she writhed for more. Pressing one long finger inside, stroking her, he felt her start to contract around him, flutters of pleasure starting already. He withdrew his finger and set his cock at her opening. Kissing her forehead, her lips, he whispered.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she said and kissed him back.

  Jack took her hips and expertly rolled her on top of him, thrusting up into her, settling her on his cock.

  “Oh!” she gasped, her hands on his chest.

  The sprinkling of hair on his chest prickled her sensitized palms. She felt him everywhere on her skin, inside of her.

  Britt was still for a moment, just feeling him, stretching around him, gripping him with her inner muscles, watching his face. His lips were drawn back over his perfect, even teeth, the strain of control evident in his expression. He wanted to pump into her, thrust long and deep, but he held still, waiting for her to be ready. Slowly, tentatively, Britt rose up, a little sound bubbling up from her throat as she sank down over him to take more and more of his length inside of her.

  The pressure made her gasp, rocking down for more even as he took her breath away. She wanted to hold out, to keep riding him, but the relentless thrusts rubbed against that place inside her that made her go all dizzy and start to shudder. Before she could stop it, she was coming around him, her inner muscles clamping down, seizing him as she grazed his chest with her nails. He took her face in his hand and pulled her down to kiss her as he pressed in deeper. Guiding her hips up and down, he led her until she finished him. He arched his back, pumping inside of her wildly. She felt him crash back to earth with a hoarse cry. He rolled her back onto her side and crushed her in his arms, holding her fast.

  Jack held her, her head cradled in the curve of his neck, her fingertips pressing against his chest where his heart beat wildly. Britt tried not to cry. She coughed to cover a sob she couldn’t suppress. Something about the way he had touched her, the way his first instinct after his climax was to hold her in his arms had moved her. She tasted bitter salt tears in her throat and shook her head to clear her vision. She wanted to get up, go shower, get some proper sleep by herself. Kevin at least had never lingered after sex. He had known to say he’d call her the next day and then leave with the greatest possible haste.

  Jack simply stayed. He stretched out on his back with his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. She heard his breathing slow down. He reached for her hand and held it without looking over at her. At last, a smile played along her lips, and she shut her eyes.

  When she woke up, daylight was creeping in the window, and she was spooled up in the sheet, lying across his chest. His arms were around her, and when she looked up, she saw that a lock of her hair was across his face. She tugged it back self-consciously and sat up. She’d never had a guy; any guy spend the night at her place. She liked her privacy, liked having the whole bed to herself without the irritation of a snoring, thrashing human trying to sleep beside her. Yet, here she was, waking up in Jack’s arms. Jack...whatever his last name was, she realized with embarrassment. Kicking her way out of the sheet, Britt got to her feet and clutched her head instantly. It pounded like an unsuccessful road construction project and her teeth hurt, actually ached from the hangover. Stumbling to the bathroom with annoyance, she drank water and took a shower and drank more water, chastising herself for letting it get this bad.

  She knew to drink water and take aspirin before bed to help curb this hideous feeling. She needed a full breakfast, something big. But she was stuck with this guy who thought it was socially acceptabl
e to hang out after a one-night stand. Britt didn’t have any experience with a one-nighter except that time in college with the one guy in her women’s studies class, the one with the tattoo of a hard drive motherboard on his chest. That hadn’t ended well but for sure he had at least had the courtesy to leave her dorm immediately afterward. Were they supposed to have breakfast together? Bond in some way? She had work. He had...probably the unemployment line or guitar practice or something. Mainly, she needed head space to get ready for her day and try to forget what she’d done the night before, namely some guitarist whose last name was a mystery better left unsolved.

  Kevin never hung around and made things awkward. He liked his own apartment just like she preferred hers. She wondered, in retrospect, what made her think they could live together in the same apartment. He used to leave his socks at her apartment. As in he’d take off his shoes and socks and then leave the socks inexplicably. His socks were an abomination to her, white athletic socks regardless of occasion. She shuddered at the idea of living with those socks indefinitely. She hadn’t even noticed Jack’s socks or even his feet for that matter. She had been intently focused on other more enticing parts of him.

  When she emerged from the shower and wrapped a robe around herself, Britt ventured out to get her clothes. She dressed swiftly and then pinned her hair up carefully in her best approximation of a librarian’s bun. She was erring on the severe side of professionalism, over-correcting after going off the rails. She added mascara, and she was finished. No way was she leaving him alone in her apartment where he could look at her old bank statements or try on her shoes or something.

  She shook him by the shoulder. He didn’t move. Britt sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at him. He was easily the best-looking thing she’d ever had in her bed. In her life, if she was being honest, at least with herself. She wanted to bite his shoulder. Then she squared her shoulders and reminded herself sternly that she was ready for him to leave and never come back. He was a fling meant to ease the pain of losing Kevin and all her hopes and dreams of a life with him. A nice, sensible life that followed a predictable pattern and left nothing to chance. They had talked about going to a bed and breakfast in the Shenandoah Valley next fall when the leaves were turning. She had imagined apple cider, a crackling fire and a cozy evening for two. Now she had to rethink that and face the fact that she’d be going alone if she wanted to go there. Hot cinnamon cider and a thick sweater weren’t quite as romantic if she was alone. Her and her vibrator and maybe a new book on Kindle. It was the new romantic getaway, she thought with some dark amusement.

  Still, he lay there, perfect and peaceful. Still, she wanted to strip off her clothing and crawl between the sheets beside him. She was always cold at night, even if she wore socks, but last night, in his arms, in the heat he gave off, she had melted against him, fully warm, fully relaxed for once. He had held her in his arms, had spooned up behind her and his presence, solid and strong, had lulled her into the deepest sleep she could remember. Not once had she awakened and wandered to the kitchen in search of a snack or to her phone just to check her email. She had felt safe with him. It must’ve been the tequila, she mused, making her think she felt safe, intimate, at ease with a total stranger. Tequila was horrible for her judgment.

  Even now, maybe it was the remnants of alcohol clouding her brain, making her touch his face, trace his brow, his jaw, his lips. She wanted to memorize every detail of him, the way his jaw was a little too square, giving him enough of a rugged edge to keep him from being too pretty. She bit down on her full lower lip, struggling to remember that she needed him out of her apartment so she could get on with her life and forget her mistake, that she didn’t need him on top of her, beside her, underneath her no matter what her hormones, her impulses told her.

  Britt gripped his shoulder, tried to ignore how thick and powerful his shoulders were, and shook him more insistently this time. His eyes blinked open, and he smiled when he saw it was her. She gritted her teeth, reminding herself not to melt at his smile. So he was charming. So he was cute. She was human, after all, but she had more willpower than this. Very seriously, she announced it was time for him to leave.

  “Hey, Jack? It’s morning. You need to get going,” she said tightly, trying to sound cheerful and friendly and not say ‘get your ass out of my apartment, I’m done with you.’

  “Okay. I take it you’re a morning person. Sorry. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

  “No, there’s no rush, I just—have to get to work,” she hedged.

  “At seven ten?” Jack asked skeptically.

  “Maybe you have a few minutes. I like to get a coffee before work,” her voice sounded a little whinier than she intended.

  “I’d try to kiss you good morning, but I have a suspicion you don’t want your hair messed up.”

  “What gave it away?” she asked a little harshly, yanking her hand back from his shoulder where she was resting it.

  “The scary hairstyle. The ponytail last night, that was cute and perky. This is like...executioner style,” he grimaced, his gorgeous face unfairly attractive even when he was scrunching up his nose.

  “Thanks. That is, in fact, what I was going for. I want to inspire fear today. Maybe nobody at work will feel me up.”

  “I think that has more to do with the moron you work for than it does with you. No offense.”

  “None taken. I didn’t exactly think I was asking for it, but it’s nice to hear. Even if it is couched in the suggestion that I look so repellent no one would hit on me.”

  “Look, even in high school, grabbing someone’s boob wasn’t hitting on her. It was—being an asshole. Have you tried asking him why he thinks he’s entitled to touch you?”

  “No. I like having a job,” she said matter-of-factly as if he were stupid.

  “Oh, if he threatens your job, you have him by the balls. Legally speaking of course. Sexual harassment. Do you even know how profitable the corporate sensitivity training industry is?”

  “No, do you?” She snapped.

  “Yeah, kind of.”

  “Was it on Yahoo headlines?” she teased.

  “Maybe,” he hedged.

  “Listen, I had a nice time last night, better than nice, but I was a little the worse for the breakup and the margaritas and, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to forget it ever happened.”

  “That was cold,” he observed, pulling his clothes on. Sternly, she would not allow herself to watch him, to stare hungrily at his body. To offer him a shower, to offer to wash his back for him. Her mischievous impulses pelted her brain with an array of naughty ideas of what to do with him first thing in the morning, ideas that would most definitely mess up her hair.

  “I apologize. I meant to be direct, not harsh. However, the truth is essentially the same.”

  “You’re done with me,” he finished.

  “I’d prefer to say that we shared a delightful evening and parted ways as friends.”

  “But the truth is essentially the same,” He pointed out and she colored in embarrassment.

  “Yes. I suppose it is. If you were—looking for more than I could give, I’m sorry. I don’t want...”

  “Complications,” he said with a nod as he buttoned his shirt. “I understand perfectly,” he raked hands through his black hair and checked his pockets for his wallet, keys, and phone.

  “I have to get a cab back to Tamarind to get my car before work,” she said.

  “So do I but I’m guessing that sharing a cab is out of the question.”

  “No, that would be—practical,” she conceded.

  They left the apartment and shuffled downstairs in silence.

  “I’d take you out for breakfast but—we’re parting ways, I understand.”

  “Yes. Thank you anyway,” she said formally, crisply.

  They sat in the taxi, as much space between them on the seat as possible. It was a stark contrast to the way they had snuggled up and kissed in a cab only a few hours
before.

  “Thank you for last night,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, not arguing that he should thank her or that the pleasure was all his.

  “It could’ve been a horrible night because of, because of what happened with Kevin. But you rescued me.”

  “You rescued yourself. I just sent you a drink. You came to find me.”

  “I guess you’re right. You’re the best, Jack. I couldn’t have asked for more.”

  “Except now you want to sweep it under the rug, forget it all,” he pointed out, not unkindly.

  “I don’t want to think of myself as someone who’d pick up a guy and take him home. It was a totally stupid decision. I’m lucky you weren’t a killer or something.”

  “Would a killer have eaten your ex’s lobster for you?”

  “Maybe, if he wanted to kill me,” she said.

  “Like as a trust ploy? Really?”

  “Probably. I’m just glad that it was you.”

  “I’m glad it was me, too. And not someone else. I’d be jealous as hell if someone else got to spend last night with you.”

  “You were so nice to me. I was really messed up over being left and, let’s be honest, from the drinking.”

  “You were lovely, Britt. I don’t regret a thing. Except that you can’t say the same.”

  “I wish I could. It’s not...how I’m wired. I’m ashamed of what I did.”

  “Don’t be. You chose comfort over misery. That’s the brave choice.”

  “There was nothing brave about falling into bed with the hot guy who bought me a drink. Easiest thing in the world.”

  “I don’t like to advertise that I’m the easiest thing in the world,” he said.