Bossy Nights

by Liv Morris

  The dress dips low between her breasts, revealing soft and ample cleavage. My eyes feast on all the exposed skin I can’t wait to explore.

  The curve of her breasts. Delicate shoulders and neck. An uncovered back my fingers itch to touch.

  Her outfit’s cut is daring, jaw dropping even, but classy enough for a black tie event. It fits her age, and will turn every head in the room.

  Her blond hair is off her shoulders and twisted into a smooth knot, making her appear older, sophisticated, and perfectly formal.

  Her azure colored eyes shine with curious excitement as she looks from side to side. She wears a stifled smile, as if she’s containing a full-blown grin. God, I want to possess those full pink lips of hers.

  A man near the entrance leers at Tessa with greedy eyes, and opens the door for her. When she crosses the threshold, he ogles her from head to toe. Prick. It’s a call to action, so I step out of the shadows and move toward her.

  When Tessa’s eyes find mine, a radiant smile lights up her face, leaving me breathless. Her beauty shines so intensely, I feel its warmth.

  “You’re simply stunning.” I greet her, taking one of her hands. I hold it up and spin her around on her heels. She giggles quietly. When the quick twirl reveals all her luminescent skin, I act on impulse—or raging hormones. “Come with me for a minute.”

  “Where are we going?” She turns a curious eye toward me, tilting her head to the side. I glance over my shoulder as I guide her a few steps away and around a corner.

  “Trust me?” She nods, and I point to the closed door in front of us.

  “The cloakroom?” she asks with a teasing smile.

  “Shush,” I whisper, twisting the handle to see if it’s locked. It moves in my hand. I’m in luck.

  I open the door wide enough for us both to slide inside, then leave it cracked a few inches so a sliver of light streams in. Aside from a few empty hangers on a rod, the room is bare.

  “What are we doing in here?” Tessa asks, but her eager eyes give her away. She wants me as much as I want her.

  “I need something from you before we join the others.” I lean forward and speak into her ear.

  “What’s that?” she breathes.

  “This.” I place my hands on her back. She shivers at my touch, following with a sweet sigh. My fingers trail over her velvety skin, lingering at the simple hook connecting her lone strap. If only we had more time. “Your skin’s so smooth and silky.”

  I bend down and kiss her lips, and she returns it with a passion matching mine. Tessa links her fingers behind my neck, and we are lost in each other. Minutes later, when we both need to draw in a breath, I move my lips down her neck and over the exposed curves of her breasts.

  “I want to taste all of you,” I say against her skin, and feel her pulse racing like mine.

  Dropping to my knee, I bring my hands to the back of her toned legs, and trace the delicate skin behind her knees. Her muscles flex and release in anticipation. With a featherlike touch, I inch up her thighs, finding the lacy edge of her panties. “Has anyone touched you here?”

  “No one,” she blows out between labored breaths. She gazes down at me with eyes full of desire, but there’s a tentativeness in them I can’t ignore. My touches, and the promise of more between us, are new and unchartered territory for her.

  I rise to my full height, changing our position. Looking down at her, I wonder if this beautiful woman is ready for what I want to do to her and what we can be together. I have to ease her into things, build her confidence. It should be her decision to freely give into the passion and trust me. Let me make her mine. I won’t push her from the base of the mountain to the peak in one night.

  “I want to be the first. Are you okay with that?” I run my fingers over the curve of her shoulders.

  “Yes, please,” she begs. “Can we skip the dinner and leave now?”

  “If only I could whisk you away, but duty calls. We won’t stay a second longer than necessary.” I give her a quick kiss on the forehead. “We better get the evening started.”

  We adjust our clothes and smooth errant hairs, trying to remove the evidence of our quick tryst.

  “You look like you’ve been assaulted by a tube of lipstick.” Tessa pulls a tissue from her bag and cleans the lipstick from my face. I left a pink trace on the curve of her breasts with my stained lips, and return the favor, wiping away the mark. My fingers delve below the fabric, desperately wanting to feel what’s hidden to my eyes.

  Sadly, I pull my hands away. Touching all of her will have to wait—something I need to remind my raging erection. I can’t walk into the ballroom full of fellow publishing professionals with tented pants. I try to think of something to distract me, but she’s too close for anything other than her to register in my lust-fueled brain. Giving up, I button my suit coat.

  Placing my hand on the small of Tessa’s back, I guide her into the ballroom, gently rubbing circles across her exposed skin, though it does nothing to help my dick get under control. I’ve been in complete launch sequence since I saw her exiting the car.

  Only a couple people remain standing in the ballroom. Everyone else has already taken their seats. Hammond Publishing has a table front and center since Don’s up for the prestigious book of the year award. We make our way through the room and find our place. Don turns in his chair. He looks at Tessa, then me with a sly smile, and gets up to take her hand.

  “My dear. You look lovely. Doesn’t she, Barclay?” Don eyes me with a knowing air. The old man’s baiting me, and I don’t like it one damn bit. He brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles.

  The same rush I had when I saw Tessa at the bar with my cousin races up my back and elicits a primal urge. I want to pull her away from him, but I steel myself against it. This caveman reaction is something totally foreign to me. I never felt it before meeting her. I take a few deep breaths, trying to get my shit together.

  “Hello, Mr. Black,” Tessa replies after Don finally drops her hand. I squint one eye at him, and he smiles back at me in amusement. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

  “Good evening, Don. Enjoying yourself so far?” I ask in a more pointed tone than I should. I know he’s all talk and has never strayed from his vows, but still, I want her as mine alone. I wonder what it is about Tessa that makes me feel this way. I’ll need to examine these feelings later.

  “I am, and will be having an even better one now that Tessa has arrived.” Don pulls out the chair seated next to him, and motions toward Tessa. “You’re sitting next to me, as I requested.”

  We settle into our seats, and I introduce Tessa to everyone at the table. I start with my sister, Victoria, and her husband, Danton. She’s attending for my mother, who’s on the board, but wanted to give the spotlight to her daughter. She hopes Victoria will step into her role soon, leaving her to care for my father as he travels down a dark road with Alzheimer’s.

  Dinner is served and drinks are refilled. Polite conversation buzzes around the table, and I don’t miss the curious stares from my sister and her husband—all aimed at me. Don lays down his claim for Tessa’s attention, and monopolizes her with conversation about the current book he’s writing. She claims to be his biggest fan, and will make the perfect audience for his big ego. But a happy Don keeps Hammond’s bottom line healthy, even if I grind my teeth while trying to ignore how close he’s moved toward her.

  “I must commend you on your date. I like her,” my sister says, pulling me away from Don and Tessa’s conversation. “Tessa’s gorgeous and smart, and definitely younger than I’d expect. I’m guessing southern from her accent.”

  “Yes, Alabama.”

  “No kidding,” Victoria laughs. “Oh, how I wish Mother were here to see you with her. Tessa’s the young woman you were eyeing the other night at the Hammond, isn’t she?”

  “She is.” I leave my answer short on purpose. I do hope my mother meets Tessa someday, but I don’t want my sister pestering me about it.
She has a way of pushing me before I’m ready.

  “She’s gotten to you, Barclay. In a good way.” My sister glances over at Tessa, who’s still engrossed in conversation with Don. “In fact, everyone seems captivated by her.”

  “Seriously, I just met her.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Something tells me this woman is different, apart from her age and background. I can see it in your eyes. The way you look at her.”

  “And how’s that exactly?” I ask, wondering if I’m ready for my sister’s answer.

  “In awe.”

  I don’t have a direct response, or one I’m ready to say out loud, but I can’t deny feeling differently about Tessa too. I was curious to know who she was the moment my eyes landed on her at the restaurant. I wondered if she was waiting for someone else or eating alone. Mostly, I wanted to claw back ten years and be a different, younger version of me.

  Then, she appeared in my office the next day wrapped in Mrs. Mackenzie’s coat. She’s a temptation I can’t seem to resist, even if I still hear her brother telling me to watch out for his sister. It’s futile to try to silence his words and my agreement. Instead, I’ll treat her like a fucking goddess. Tessa turns my way and gives me a slow, sexy smile. It makes me ache for her. When she ends it with a lip bite, I’m convinced she can live with my decision too.

  29

  Tessa

  The dinner ends with Don winning book of the year, but no one seems shocked, especially those sitting with me at Hammond’s table. As we prepare to leave, Don gives me a big, both-arms-around-me hug and uses the closeness to whisper in my ear.

  “I’ve known Barclay for years, and I’ve never seen him so possessive over a woman. Please don’t look over your shoulder, but you should see the look he’s giving me now.” I fight the urge to turn around and keep my eyes forward. “I don’t believe he likes me monopolizing your attention either. Well done, Tessa.”

  Before I can reply, Barclay’s at my side and congratulates Don one last time, though he shakes his hand without a smile. Then, Barclay guides me out of the ballroom with his hand on the small of my back. His purposeful stride has me walking nearly double-time to keep up with him.

  “Don seems very comfortable with you,” Barclay clips, pressing his hand harder against me, like he’s trying to drive home a point.

  “He’s a sweet man who shared a lot of things with me,” I say, but I can’t ignore the irritated tone in Barclay’s voice. I look up at him to find him staring out into the lobby with his jaw clenched. Maybe Don’s right about how Barclay is with me. A girl can only hope.

  “Don’s been called a lot of things, Tessa, but sweet isn’t one of them,” he scoffs. “Forget him. We need to decide on how to handle the press outside. Lawrence, the same driver who drove us to Connecticut, is waiting at the curb for me. I think it’s best if you take the car back.”

  “Okay,” I say, and my hope falls to my feet in a silent thud.

  I don’t want to end up with my face on Page Six tomorrow—my ass and hair was enough, thank you very much—but I don’t want the night to end either.

  As we walk through the lobby, I stare down at the ground to conceal my disappointment at us parting ways. I imagine he has to attend the after-party Don talked about earlier at the table. But I wanted to be with Barclay tonight, and fight the urge to beg him not to go.

  We come to a stop right before the exit to the building. Barclay places a finger under my chin, and I look up at him.

  “What’s with the pouty face?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

  “I wanted to continue the night back at the hotel … with you,” I mumble, hoping I don’t sound desperate and insecure, even though I am, in all regards.

  After meeting everyone around the table, it was clear to me how wide apart our worlds are, and maybe it hit him too. He’s experienced and the CEO of a company I’d be happy to have a job sweeping the floors at. It would be a start and more than I have now, which is a big fat nothing.

  “Sweet girl,” he says with a reassuring smile and a glint in his eyes. It’s the same look he had earlier tonight when he kissed me within an inch of my life. “I’ll have Victoria drop me by the hotel, and will be knocking on your door in twenty minutes tops.”

  I exhale the breath I was holding. “You’re not going to the party Don mentioned?”

  “No, Tessa. Tonight, I have a party with only you.” His voice is husky and commanding. “No one else is invited. Just us. How does that sound?”

  His words, combined with the hunger in his eyes, makes me feel lightheaded. I reach for his bicep, grabbing a handful of the silken wool.

  “Yes, please,” I breathe.

  Barclay bends forward. The needy look in his eyes intensifies.

  “When my stylist helped you choose a dress today, she left something for you, right?” I nod, remembering the Saks box wrapped securely with a ribbon.

  I left it untouched sitting on the counter above the mini-bar. His stylist, Gloria, instructed me not to open it. I’d fiddled with the ribbon, wondering if one quick peek inside was really that big of a deal—I was the kid who snuck around before Christmas trying to locate my presents, after all—but I didn’t, for him.

  “Go back to the hotel, open it, and get comfortable.” He leans even closer as he speaks. His words tickle the skin behind my ear, and I shudder. “Now, get going.”

  “So bossy,” I quip back with a full-blown smile, overjoyed our night isn’t ending. He tilts his head toward the door with a mischievous grin, and I walk away, though it’s hard to leave his side.

  I glimpse over my shoulder and see Victoria approaching him. She looks between Barclay and me like she did a few nights ago at the restaurant, but this time, she smiles at me, and I wave goodbye, hoping to see her again in a less formal setting. I bet she has a few stories to tell about growing up with Barclay.

  A man opens the entrance door for me, and I glance down the steps toward the curb. I spot Lawrence standing by the car and head in his direction. I hope he speeds to the hotel, because I can’t wait to find out what’s in the box.

  When I arrive at the hotel, I scurry through the lobby, my heels sliding over the polished marble. Once I make it up to my room, I glance at the box and the mess I left behind getting ready for the dinner. I have no idea which one I should tackle first.

  I don’t want him to think I’m a slob, so I grab the free plastic bag hotels give for miscellaneous items, like dirty laundry, and set out on a mission. I scoop items up off the bed and floor, filling the bag to the top. Then I throw hangers into the closet, and toss the bag, along with a few clothing items.

  I scan the room. It looks lived in, but presentable. Now, for the box. I pull on the ribbon and untie the bow, then remove the top. Tissue paper covers what’s inside, secured with a designer seal. I gently tear the seal away and push the paper to the side, revealing a shear ice pink negligée with a matching lace thong. I finger the silk straps of the sexy garment. It’s beautiful, but I’ve never worn anything like this before. Not even to just try on.

  My breathing becomes quick and shallow. “Get comfortable,” he’d said.

  Is that sex speak for get dressed up in lingerie?

  When I move the box to the bed, the phone on the nightstand begins to ring. I worry my lip. Could it be Barclay canceling? I take two steps toward the phone and place my hand on the receiver. After a deep breath, I answer it.

  “Hello,” I say in a shaky voice.

  “Tessa,” my mother sputters. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. How are you, dear? Back in the room for the night?”

  “Hi, Mom. Sorry I missed your calls,” I say, debating how much I should tell her about my day, including the dinner with Barclay. “And yes, I’m going to bed soon.”

  It’s not a full-blown lie, more like wishful thinking, and besides, too much information will bring up questions I don’t know how to answer yet. It’s not like I’m sixteen and missing curfew. I’m a grown woman.
r />   “Is New York everything you thought it would be, dear?” she asks.

  “Oh, Mom, you have no idea—” There’s a loud knock at my door, and I pause. It’s him. It has to be him. Panic sets in.

  What do I do?

  30

  Tessa

  “What is it, Tessa? Is everything okay?” No one knows me better than my mother, and from over a thousand miles away, she senses something is up. She’s right too.

  I have a cover model worthy CEO dressed in a bespoke tuxedo with sex on his mind standing at my door. It’s not a scenario my mother or I dreamed of when I got on the plane and left Alabama. All I dared to hope for was a decent job—or the prospect of one.

  At least I’m not sleeping my way to the top. It’s the only solace I have in Barclay not helping me find a job at his company. He must think it would complicate things between us. Plus, there’s my lack of experience with guys, let alone older men like him, and it’s complicated enough.

  “Hold on a second. Someone’s at the door.” In a hurry to get to Barclay, I can’t find the mute button on the phone display.

  I lay the receiver down on the nightstand next to the phone and walk to the door, passing by the satiny, sheer negligée sitting in a heap on the bed. Another complication I can’t hide. I smooth my dress down over my hips, adjust the halter strap around my neck, and open the door.

  My breath leaves me in a rush. Barclay’s leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his pocket while he uses the other arm to brace himself. I lost my heels when I arrived back at the room and forgot to put them back on in my haste, so he hovers over me more than usual. He’s a massive man, and so massively hot, I might melt into a puddle. I should’ve told my mother goodbye and that I loved her. His looks are that lethal.