Her Billionaire Rancher Boss

by Genevieve Turner

  He wore a half smile when her gaze returned to his face. He knew exactly how hot he was. How hot she found him.

  “Before I go…” He pulled her close to him, kissed her on the corner of her mouth. “We have time for a few things.”

  She hoped a few things wouldn’t leave her a sloppy mess of unfulfilled lust.

  He flicked open the first button of her shirt. “Mind if I take yours off too?”

  “You already are,” she pointed out.

  “If you say no,” he reminded her, “I’ll listen.”

  “And if I say yes?”

  “I’ll listen then too.”

  “Then… yes.”

  He took his time unbuttoning her—more to tease her she knew, since the bastard had a little smirk playing at his lips the entire time. He meant to torment her by being so damn slow. Well, she could play cool too.

  She waited for his reaction to her bra. It was black and lacy and decently sexy—but still, she couldn’t contain the girls in anything like a cute little demi cup.

  His response once her shirt was off didn’t disappoint. His lips parted, and his intake of breath was perilously close to a gasp.

  “Oh, Pilar.” He cupped her in his hands, taking another sharp breath. Just as she’d imagined, his hands fit her perfectly. “You’ve got such fantastic tits. Better than I even imagined.”

  “They’re kind of big.” They were more than kind of big—they’d been such an embarrassment when they’d sprung up when she was fifteen.

  He scowled ferociously. “Can tits ever be too big?”

  She giggled, then gasped as his thumbs found her nipples and flicked. “But they are big. Just like my ass and my belly—”

  He kissed her, hard, stealing those words before she could finish. “I love all of it. Every inch. I love all of you.”

  Oh, that was dangerously close to I love you. Which he didn’t.

  Did he?

  He couldn’t. No way.

  He flicked open the front closure of the bra, spilling her breasts into his waiting hands. And she couldn’t remember to be worried, not when he was stroking and kneading so perfectly. He found her nipple with his thumb and forefinger and squeezed.

  She gasped.

  “Too hard?” he whispered.

  She shook her head. “It… no, it’s good.”

  “How about this?” He lowered his head and took her nipple between his teeth—not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to let her know they were sharp.

  It was exactly how she liked it, the pleasure rising faster than it ever had before. She held his head as she urged him on with her moans, the roll of her hips.

  “I bet I could make you come like this,” he said, all harsh heat. “Have you ever done that?”

  He took the peak in his mouth again, flicking with his tongue, and holy Jesus—what had he been asking?

  “No one’s ever tried,” she managed to get out, a pant coming with every word.

  He made a tutting noise. “Stick with me, babe, and I’ll do you right.”

  Oh, he would too. He’d do her right into another of the best orgasms of her life.

  “Please, yes, let’s try,” she begged. If he would put his mouth back where it had been, and maybe his hand between her legs—that would do her very nicely.

  “I’ll do anything you want,” he promised, “for as long as you want—”

  Briippp. His phone squawked from his pocket, shattering the moment.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. Exactly what she wanted to say. He glanced behind him at the microwave clock. “I’m late. And that’s probably Liliana.”

  Family called. So Benedict would go.

  That wasn’t entirely fair—the family Sunday dinner was a tradition. Her time today with him was a bonus. Not an obligation.

  She picked up the shirt, shoved it at him. “You’d better go. If you don’t want to be any later.”

  He ignored the shirt in her hand, his hands going to her bra. He gently tucked her back into it, then buttoned up her shirt. When he was done, he set his hands along her jaw. “This isn’t finished.”

  She was beginning to suspect that this wouldn’t be finished even after she left. But she wanted him. She was almost shaking with it, so badly did she want to complete what they’d started.

  “Of course not,” she answered, wrapping her arms around herself to try to damp the flames he’d ignited. His phone squawked again. “But we both have family obligations.”

  He rubbed his thumb along her jaw, studying her with those deep blue eyes. Maybe he was thinking of staying, of calling off the family dinner…

  “Damn,” he muttered. He put a kiss at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  No, he wasn’t staying. And truthfully, she didn’t want him to blow off his family. His commitment to them was one of the best things about him.

  He tugged on Javier’s shirt—good-bye, delicious abs, until we meet again—and was out the door.

  She crumpled up her brother’s note and tossed it into the trash. No need to feel sorry for herself for spending a Sunday evening alone. In fact, it was the perfect opportunity to research cities to move to in three months.

  The idea wasn’t as exciting as it had been before she’d handed Benedict her resignation.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When Benedict walked into the office the next morning, Pilar did not get the reception she’d been expecting.

  “Morning,” she chirped as Benedict strode past her to his office door, looking lean hipped and long legged in his usual jeans, his hair beginning to slip over his forehead.

  She pulled her shoulders back and sucked her belly in, the better for him to see the new blouse she was wearing. Her breasts looked spectacular in it, if she did say so herself. Spectacular, but still professional. And yesterday he’d proved that he liked her tits. Really liked them.

  “Morning,” he muttered, giving her a spare glance before disappearing behind his office door.

  Her spine slumped. Well… well, that had sucked. He’d never before been so curt. He always asked how she was, how things were going, what was on the agenda for the day, no matter how busy he was.

  And they were supposed to be having an affair.

  She was still his admin though. Time to go be his admin.

  She marched into his office, finding him standing behind his desk, knuckles braced against it as he peered at his computer.

  “Your schedule for today has been updated,” she told him.

  His gaze flicked to her for half a moment, then flicked back to the screen. “I know.”

  That was rather short. And chilled.

  “Is there anything you’d like to go over this morning?” Brisk, efficient, professional. Which was how they were supposed to be on company time.

  “No.” He glanced at the door. “That’s all.”

  Okay. She could handle this, although it hurt a little, especially after he’d felt her up in her kitchen yesterday. And taken her to church. But she wanted this distance between them at work.

  Only—not quite so distant. Not quite so cold.

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  He didn’t look up.

  So she left.

  He remained short-tempered throughout the morning, answering her every request with monosyllables, his gaze sliding off her each time he glanced her way. By noon she felt small and stupid and smashed.

  The affair had been his idea, but maybe he’d changed his mind. He could have told her that rather than engage in this cold-shoulder business. She could take a hint—she wouldn’t cling to him when she wasn’t wanted.

  She smashed her fist into the stapler much harder than necessary, enjoying the sharp metallic crunch as the staple bit through the stack of papers.

  Thank God she was leaving in three months. She never would have imagined Benedict could transform into an asshole so quickly, but better to know now.

  At noon, she poked her head into his office, not willin
g to come any closer and face his bruising avoidance. “Anything else before I leave for lunch?”

  She wasn’t leaving, only slinking off to find a hidden corner to eat her peanut butter sandwich, but he didn’t need to know that. Let him think she had a hot lunch date.

  He glanced up from his paperwork and looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time that day. His expression was stark, his eyes haunted—he was… anguished.

  What had happened?

  She crossed his office in a flash. “Are you okay?”

  She wanted to clasp his arm, his hand, anything to ease that expression on his face. But the desk was between them.

  “Could you have lunch with me?” The harshness of his words almost disguised the pleading in his tone. “Somewhere not here. I have to talk to you.”

  Her stomach wrung itself out. “Uh… look I can take a hint. You don’t have to do this.” Steady. Don’t break down in his office. “In fact, I’d rather not even talk about it. Clean break and all that.”

  But it didn’t feel clean. It felt ragged and bleeding.

  He frowned at her. “What—” His voice dropped. “You think I want to end this?”

  What else was she supposed to think, what with him acting like an iceberg and then announcing, We have to talk?

  “Well, you’ve been very distant today,” she said. “I thought…”

  But Benedict wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t a callow high schooler. He’d never end things like that—he’d be direct, honest, open. So why was he acting like this?

  Something must have happened. And she was the one acting like a teenager, assuming it was all about their relationship.

  “No,” he rasped, “I don’t want to end this. I just… I need to talk to you. But not about us.”

  Us. It was only supposed to be sex, short-lived, flaring like a struck match, and burning out just as quickly. But when he said us, she found herself aching for something more. Something longer. Something permanent.

  You’re leaving in three months. Starting a new life in three months. You can’t be Benedict Merrill’s charity case for the rest of your life.

  But she could be his comfort in this moment.

  “Sure,” she answered. “Let me grab my purse.”

  They drove in silence to the café down the road. She had to admit having someone drive her around was such a comforting luxury. After her parents’ accident, driving had made her terrified. But she kept at it until getting behind the wheel inspired only dull panic.

  Being chauffeured by Benedict was the closest she came to being unfazed by driving in forever.

  Benedict pulled the truck into a spot in the café parking lot, killed the engine… and stared at the dashboard.

  “How are your new tires?” he asked dully.

  Tires? “They’re good. New, you know.”

  He nodded slowly, never cracking a smile. “Good. I’m glad. I’m glad to know you’re safe, that you’re driving something safe.” His fingers wrapped around the wheel and went tight, as if he needed something to cling to.

  She’d never seen him so rattled. It touched a deep part of her, a part that she should not allow him access to. But it was too late.

  “You wanted to talk about my tires then?” She knew he didn’t, but it seemed like he needed a push to get to his real point.

  His fingers eased on the wheel. “No.” He let go. “Josh wants me to come see him.”

  So that was it. She pulled a breath through her teeth. “Are you going to go?”

  “I have to.”

  She closed her eyes for half a moment. Of course that was what Benedict would say. Not I don’t know or I don’t want to—there was never any question he’d honor Josh’s request. And nothing about how he felt about it.

  But he was obviously upset. And so invested in his role as the unfeeling, rock-solid head of both the family and the business he couldn’t even discuss it with her in the office.

  “What do you think he wants to talk about?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral. Neither Benedict nor Josh needed judgment from her right now.

  Benedict sighed deeply. “Before he left, I told him—I told him that he needed to go to jail.” His hands clenched around the wheel again. “That he needed to be punished for what he’d done. That I prayed the experience would be a true reformation for him.”

  She tried to imagine saying such things to Javier should he be sent to prison. Imagined Javier’s reaction to that. Her heart wanted to shrink to nothing at just the thought.

  How terrible for Benedict and his brother.

  “He probably didn’t take that very well.”

  He gave a humorless laugh. “No. He said he didn’t want to see me again.”

  The hurt in his voice sliced at her.

  “But you still tried to visit him, didn’t you?” She didn’t know why she asked when she already knew the answer.

  “Of course,” he answered. “He’s my little brother. He might have deserved it, but I still worry about him in that place. He never let me see him though.”

  She watched his hands on the wheel, clenching and unclenching with the emotion he only barely allowed to creep into his voice. “When are you going?” she asked gently.

  “Saturday.” And then the emotions broke free, twisting in his words. “I don’t know, Pilar. If he’s still not ready to grow up, if prison hasn’t turned him around… what will?” He took a shuddering breath and another and another.

  She slid her hands over his, pried them free of the steering wheel, and held them. Large hands, the hands of a man who carried a lot of responsibility. “I can’t tell you that everything will be all right,” she said. “I can’t tell you what to do to make it better.” She wished she could though. “All I can tell you is that you’re doing your best. You’re a good man. And a good brother.”

  She kissed the corner of his mouth, just as he always did to her. As her lips met that spot—gently firm lips, raspy stubble, and the subtle upquirk he always wore—she understood why he liked to kiss her there. It was somehow more intimate than a regular kiss—anyone might claim a person’s mouth, but who would think to point to the corner and say that, that little patch is mine?

  Only someone who knew every inch of that mouth already.

  She rubbed his knuckles, wanting to soothe him. He bent his head as his fingers curled around hers and held tightly. “I knew talking to you would make me feel better,” he said. Softer, easier than before. “I knew you would understand.”

  Of course she understood. He carried so many burdens—the running of the ranch and the resort and worrying about his siblings and cousins and parents—and he did it unflinchingly.

  But who ever helped him? She knew Liliana went to visit Josh too—but did Liliana impress upon their brother the necessity of changing his ways? Did Liliana ever speak hard truths to Josh?

  Likely not. They all left it up to Benedict, no doubt. And Josh had turned on him for it.

  “Is anyone going with you?” she asked. Because if no one else was, she damn well would.

  “Liliana and my parents.”

  That hurt. Hurt that she couldn’t claim a spot next to him, to help support him. But she was only his assistant. She’d asked to keep their relationship secret.

  “That’s great,” she said unconvincingly. “They’ll be there for you then.”

  He studied her for long moments, the intensity of his gaze making her want to squirm. It wasn’t sexual or sad—it was intimate in a way she’d never before seen from a man. And never before seen in Benedict.

  She wanted to hide from that gaze, to tell him she wasn’t ready yet—but not ready for what? She didn’t know.

  “Come to dinner on Sunday,” he finally said.

  Oh boy. She wanted to. Wanted to watch him among his family. Wanted to see how relaxed and happy he probably was with them, away from the business. But—

  She shook her head. “That’s probably not such a good idea. People might suspect.”
>
  He pulled her hand closer to him and laid it across his chest. She could feel the beat of his heart—steady, even.

  More romance. Harder and harder to resist with every gesture he gave her.

  “Liliana loves you,” he said, “and so does everyone else. You’re a friend of the family. Bring Javier too.”

  “Huh. If he decides to show up on Sunday.”

  He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. Because he understood her too. She released a breath. “Okay. Dinner on Sunday it is. And if I can corral Javier, he’ll be there too.”

  Benedict’s smile was filled with delight—and relief. He really did want her to come.

  But of course he did. Benedict didn’t play games. He was true and honest and direct, an honorable man trying to do what was best for his family. Even if what he had to do hurt him.

  Just like she was trying to do with Javier.

  A surge of sympathy, of understanding, knocked straight into her heart, tumbling it end over end. She might want to keep their relationship quiet, might want to pretend it was only a physical thing between them, but it wasn’t.

  She might just be falling for him.

  A Merrill Sunday dinner was a boisterous affair. Not because of Benedict—he was always the quiet one in any large gathering—but because of his two siblings and their cousin.

  They were all gathered at the main house, the one that Liliana and Luke shared now that their parents had retired to the Central Coast.

  Pilar was laughing at a shaggy-dog story Liliana and Luke were spinning about their recent trip to Vegas, her sides aching as she tried to catch her breath. Liliana and Luke kept trying to one-up each other with witty remarks and snarky asides.

  Their cousin, Penny Moreno, was laughing just as hard, along with her boyfriend. The boyfriend was new, at least to Pilar. Apparently he and Penny had dated for years, broken up several months ago, then gotten back together when he was injured on the bull-riding circuit. Judging by how googly-eyed they were, she’d never guess they’d ever broken up.

  Benedict watched it all with a small smile on his face, happy to observe from the sidelines.