Bossy Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Nicole Snow

  She smiles up with this crescent of pink perfection on her face bound to linger in my mind. That smile holds so much more than if she’d just returned the love verbally.

  I follow her into her room, sit down on her bed, and watch as she pulls the envelope from her dresser.

  She holds it overhead, trying to see inside the filmy paper through the light.

  “What is it?”

  “Just open it.”

  “Ward, if it’s a check, I don’t want it. Things are already unequal between us. No point in making it worse.” She looks at me seriously.

  “How are things unequal?”

  “You’re a bazillionaire, and I had to fake being your fiancèe for cash.”

  “One point five million dollars cash which you negotiated well.” I chuckle. “And I hope it wasn’t that bad the whole time.”

  She sighs. “It wasn’t. I fell hard, after all. I just felt bad being paid for it, you lunk.”

  “It’s not a check. I promise. Open sesame,” I order.

  She rips the envelope open with a crooked smile and pulls out the thick packet of paper inside. Her eyes skim over it. “It’s...a new contract from Brandt Ideas? I thought you were fishing for a new assistant?”

  She looks puzzled.

  “I had to do something. It’s not appropriate for me to be so involved with an employee. I want you to be our Creative Ambassador. It’s a new role. You’ll go to all the major art galas and fundraisers Grandma used to visit to represent the company. She may or may not be there, but she’s retired and off to greater things. I’d like you to hunt down new art programs worthy of our funding.”

  “Ward...” Her lips open and close.

  “Also, there’s a bonus—part of the job requires teaching sculpting classes, especially with kids eager to learn. You can do as many classes as you’d like. For us, it’s a chance for good PR and generous tax write-offs. All effective immediately, as soon as you sign and return it.”

  For a second, I’m worried she’s about to fall through the floor.

  “W-why would you do all this for me?”

  My gaze locks with her eyes. “It’s not obvious?”

  A heavy silence. And then, she’s moving, something like a squeal slipping out as she screams toward me at the edge of the bed.

  “I love you!”

  I hold my arms out just in time. She drops the packet and dives into my grasp, bowling me over onto the mattress.

  Delightfully flattened, I kiss her lips, tracing a finger up the crook of her neck, her chin, her jaw.

  “Well? Is that a yes?”

  Her lips meet mine in a lava flow. She takes my bottom lip between hers. The growl that rips out of me takes her over.

  “I don’t think I have a choice. I am unemployed.”

  “What did you do with your deposit?”

  “It’s in the bank, earning pretty crappy interest. Thank you, by the way.”

  “Then you have a choice, sweetheart,” I say.

  “I suppose,” she says with mock-reluctance. “Unemployment is kinda boring.”

  She kisses me again.

  I swear, I could do this for hours.

  “I want you to keep working with me. I want you to have an office at the firm, so we can still slip out for lunch when I don’t have meetings.”

  “You missed that too?” Her lashes flutter.

  Shit, what’s wrong with this girl?

  “How do I convince you I missed you? Tell me.”

  She’s laughing when her mouth swoops for mine again.

  We collide like the Fourth of July.

  When she tries to escape the fireworks, I hold her closer, kiss her deeper, my cock throbbing in delicious agony.

  She undoes the first couple buttons on my shirt.

  My inner beast snarls as I seize her wrist, pulling myself upright again, butt anchored to the bed's edge.

  “Only if you’re sure, Paige. If you’re not, I’ll hold you all night. I’m here for you—all of you—now.”

  She brings the crown of her head to my chest, hiding her face. “Um, don’t you—do you not want to?”

  I put my hand under her chin, tilt her face up, and let my tongue show her just how fucking bad I want her.

  “Since the moment you walked into my office, but—” I stop. Damn. I don’t want to say this.

  “But?”

  “You felt played by what happened before, and I can’t lose you again. I’ve lived three weeks without you, a Paige-fucking-desert. I hated it. This can’t be something you regret.”

  “I didn’t think that until after things went sour, Ward. And now that they’re not...I need you. In me.” Her mouth crushes mine.

  A ragged groan explodes up my throat.

  Fuck.

  She straddles me, her long legs winding around my waist. She runs her fingers over the exposed skin where she’s undone my shirt, working at the rest of my buttons.

  Who knew having her fingers crawling down my chest could feel better than being blown?

  I’m titanium by the time she’s on the last button.

  She pushes the sleeves of the now open shirt past my shoulders. I shed it with a happy grunt.

  I have no restraint, no patience, no sanity left.

  My hands slide up her dress with the heat of the sun.

  I yank it off in one brute pull and roll her deeper into bed with me.

  My fingertips trace the bare skin of her back until I find the bra clasp and rip the hook open.

  Perky breasts spring free like they were made for my thieving palms, my mouth, my dick between them. I’ve never wanted to worship a pair of nipples so badly in my life.

  Snarling, I work the straps down her arms, dipping her back with a noise that could scare a Siberian tiger.

  She’s breathing so heavy I could die—happily.

  I move away from her face, releasing the dancing tongue in my mouth, desperate for air.

  Only, I’m far more desperate for Paige.

  “Wait. One more.” My lips are on hers again, tongues mingling, trading breaths hot enough to sear.

  I barely pull myself away to kiss down her neck, straight to the top of one round, perfect tit.

  Cupping the weight of her breast in my hand, I drag my fingertip across a pink bud, loving how she shudders.

  “Ohhh.”

  Yeah, woman.

  Give it up.

  Just like that ten thousand times more.

  She thrusts against me, and even through her panties and my slacks, there’s no missing the slick warmth teasing my dick to madness.

  I wrap my hands around her back, pulling her in, my mouth claiming each nipple like a war trophy.

  She pushes down over me again, and I can’t help but thrust up, running my cock over the outline of her sweetness.

  Her hands grasp my waist. Fingers, desperate and divine. She removes my belt, then fumbles with my button, gliding off the bed and onto her knees on the floor in front of me.

  I could stop and help her.

  It’s hard not to, because I want to sink into her. But her tongue is in my mouth again, and I’m not letting go for anything.

  I’ve been without her for three hundred-year weeks. I don’t fucking care if this takes all night.

  Hell, I want it to.

  I’m just as glad it doesn’t when she peels my pants open. They hit the floor with a whoosh as I stand.

  Breaking our kiss, she presents herself to me in only lacey hip hugger panties and a lush, pensive smirk.

  “So. Fucking. Beautiful,” I whisper, caressing her face, pushing the tip of my thumb just past her lips.

  The way she sucks almost keels me right over.

  I’m madder than I’ve ever been to cleave her open.

  I lean over and pull on one leg, lifting her up. Blue lace falls around her feet. She steps out of the fabric puddle, naked and irresistible.

  Growling, I pick her up and plant us both on the bed again, her on my lap, shoving her legs
open.

  “Shouldn’t we lie down—”

  No.

  She gets my shaft mid-word and gasps like an angel dragged to earth as I grind her over it.

  My arms lock around her back, sealing us together, pressing her tits into my chest.

  “Not the hell today, sweetheart. Nothing’s going down but this.”

  As long as I live, I’ll never quite fathom what happens then as the whole world blurs into this pulsing fire of my girl and piston hips that feel inhuman.

  Our tongues meet. I match my thrusts to the strokes of my tongue, gently rocking us at first, and then becoming all too savage.

  Heaven’s gates just opened.

  Her fingernails rake my back, scrawling hot exclamations on my skin, churning my blood to lava.

  Her legs squeeze my waist as she tumbles back in my arms, this beautiful mess of flying hair and green-eyed storms, slashing down on me with every stroke, threatening my balls with permanent damage if I even try to hold back.

  Fucking aye.

  I fist her hair with a delighted grin, my teeth marking her bottom lip. She rocks down over me, breaths becoming gasps, and gasps becoming husky screams.

  Her knees dig at my thighs and her nails almost carve me up.

  Harder.

  Faster.

  Sweeter.

  I can’t move in slow languid thrusts anymore, matching her urgency, the liquid heat in my balls hurtling toward eruption.

  “Oh. Ohhh, Ward!” Her screams are a messy concert for my ears.

  I can’t hold back. Not tonight.

  Even as I’m hammering her first orgasm through her, barely holding myself together, I feel a riptide coming on that just might split me in half.

  I tighten my grip as she shakes in my arms, slamming into her as hard as I can. My hand dives between her legs, finds her clit, and rubs every resistance right out of her.

  “Don’t you dare stop coming,” I snarl, my eyes like a steel trap.

  Her body obeys so beautifully.

  Her pussy clenches around me like God’s own velvet, giving as good as she gets, begging for my release.

  With her eyes molten jade and a scream in her lungs, I explode.

  My lips meet hers at the very last second before I’m a pulsing machine, a chariot of ecstasy, ropes like lightning pouring out, filling her to running over with my seed.

  If I’m doomed to be a Wardhole, then I’m a deliriously happy one when I’m tangled up in Paige.

  She’s shaking in my arms. I’m trembling against her. Hot release steams onto the sheet when I pull out of her.

  I guide us further back on the bed and a dry spot, inching up to the headboard where we collapse together.

  We exchange a few more warm words. We trade more quaking flesh.

  Mostly, the smiles speak volumes, and they’re full of promises tonight.

  It’s been a hell of a day.

  No surprise, she’s asleep in my arms before I can revive for round three. I watch her snoring peacefully in my arms and soon sleep drags me down.

  Sometime during the night, Paige rolls out of my embrace and takes the covers with her.

  It’s cold, and I try to take some of the comforter back, but she has a mobster’s grip for a sleeping kitten.

  “You’re freezing.” She wakes up and presses her cheek to my chest.

  I close my arms around her. “No thanks to you, blanket-stealer.”

  She gives me a grin that could age blue cheese.

  “Good thing I love you enough to tolerate the arctic,” I whisper, kissing her again.

  My phone’s alarm screams from my pocket somewhere on the floor a short time later.

  “Damn it. Time for work. I have the new interior design sessions today. Nick’s thinking about this spinoff company he wants to make his baby, and he’s intent on driving me insane.”

  She giggles. “Should I tag along or do we need to work out a start date?”

  “We do, but if you don’t have anything better on your schedule...” I shrug. “I’d like your help interviewing new EAs. You know the job and you put up with me, so you’re probably the best resource.”

  “You have to buy me lunch then.” She pokes a finger into my stomach, drifting dangerously low before I stop her.

  “That’s a given—if you don’t tease my pants off all day.”

  Her next kiss bursts with laughter that’ll sustain me all morning.

  Finally, I summon the courage to say what I really want.

  “Come home, Paige. Will you?”

  She glances around with a devilish smirk.

  “Already home, aren’t I?”

  “You know what I mean. Come home to our room. And I’ll tell Grayson we’ll get you set up at the lakehouse, any damn way you please.”

  She combs her fingers through my hair. “It’s not the décor...”

  “What then?” My face tightens.

  “We lived together for a fake engagement, right?”

  “Yes?”

  “Things spun out of control. I love you, Ward, but I’m not coming back until I know it’s real this time.”

  “I spent the night,” I say, twining my fingers through hers. “That’s real enough.”

  “And waking up beside you feels like Cloud Nine.”

  “Then why—”

  She closes her eyes and bows her head.

  “I just...I need major commitment this time, and we just got back together. I’d like to keep some boundaries until we’re sure. You’re welcome here anytime though. This is my turf, so I’m cool with that.”

  For once, I wish she wasn’t so obscenely sensible and stubborn.

  “Do you doubt my love?” I ask.

  “No, but I think we moved too fast last time due to the charade. This time, we know it’s meant to last. I can’t handle losing you again, so...give me your love and your patience?”

  “I need you home with me, but I’ll play by your rules,” I whisper, bringing her hand to my lips.

  She giggles when my beard brushes her skin.

  “Thanks for understanding. I knew you would.”

  “I get it, even if I hate it.”

  With her eyes lidded, she leans forward and kisses me again.

  “I love you, Wardhole.”

  And that’s enough for now.

  Patience.

  How could I own an architecture firm if I didn’t know it takes time to build beautiful lasting magic?

  Still, I have to figure out what the blueprint looks like that’s going to get my girl back for good.

  My life isn’t complete until I’m waking up with a woman I’d trade the sunrise for every single day.

  29

  Trojan Horse (Paige)

  Months Later

  My Sunday night community class is almost over.

  The Chicago-priced ticket fees cover the cost of free classes I do for several YMCA programs throughout the week.

  Today we mimicked molding objects from several sample pieces. Most people went with the fruit bowl I provided and a few brought in their own figurines.

  “That’s a lovely cat! If you pinch each side together at the top, the ears will be more pointed,” I say.

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” the older lady says with a smile.

  Her pinch is kinda wimpy, so the ears come out rounded, but they’re more pointed than they were before. Not that it matters when her sunburst smile means everything.

  Sabrina and Magnus are here, molding a bumpy pineapple together. Her phone rings. She drags her clay-covered fingers over the apron she’s wearing and answers it.

  “Hey, brat.” I give her a pretend scowl. “No phones in class.”

  She rolls her eyes at me.

  “Hello?”

  She’s quiet for a minute, then covers her phone with her hand before I hear her whisper to her hubby, “Jordan wants to know if he can spend the night at a friend’s place...”

  “He’s not leaving until we’re home.” Mag looks up from foc
using intently on the franken-pineapple like it’s his latest genius business idea.

  Brina throws her head back and laughs. “That’s between brothers.”

  She puts her phone to Mag’s ear.

  “Buddy, don’t leave before I’m home,” Mag grumbles. He’s quiet for a minute. “Okay. We’ll be home in an hour. Fair warning, if you’re not there, Armstrong will track you down and deliver you to your mother so she can crucify you. Got it? Even though you just turned eighteen, she still worries herself sick.”

  He’s quiet again. “Yes. I liked me more when I was fun too. Bye.”

  Brina drops the phone back in her purse, flashing me a wink.

  I pick up a flat silver tool from the table.

  “Here, use this to smooth out your pumpkin,” I joke.

  Brina and Mag exchange a worried glance, then her hubby meets my eyes.

  “It’s a Maui pineapple,” he says defensively.

  “Oh, it is?” I’m trying not to snicker.

  “...the skin’s textured,” Mag says, twisting his lips as he surveys his misshapen lump of chicken-scratch lines.

  Brina gives me a helpless look.

  “Don’t even say it. I studied graphics design, not playing with dirt. I’m here to support the kids,” she says matter-of-factly.

  Mag laughs. “And I’m here mangling fruit because my lovely wife said I had to be. Also, it annoys my little brother. He can’t leave our place until we’re home. Somehow, that’s worth everything.”

  I giggle, the endless banter between Ward and Nick flashing in my mind, even if they’re a lot closer in age than Magnus and Jordan.

  “Well, that’s a nice pineapple in progress. Hang in there, Heron, you’ll get there,” I say, smiling as Mag shoots me a dirty look.

  “You didn’t even recognize it,” Brina tells me flatly.

  “Umm—it’s the thought that counts?” I move on to check the other students, offering feedback on a few more sculptures before I notice the clock.

  Oh, crap.

  “Okay, class, time’s almost up!” I call with a clap of my hands. “So if you could start cleaning up, that would be great. If you need to leave a sculpture here to be heated, just leave it at your seat and you can come pick it up in a few days. If you haven’t finished or you want to practice more at home, the supplies are yours to keep. You can bring your final back any time the studio is open, and I’ll fire it up.”