Daddy Boss (A Boss Romance Love Story)

by Bishop, Claire

  “But I’m not their mother, and I don’t want to be made to feel like I have to live up to the same standard.”

  “You’d do fine. I’ve seen you with them. I’m more worried about what will happen if Archer doesn’t have a woman in his life.”

  “Why? That’s another thing. Everyone always says the boys need a woman’s touch.”

  “Sure, they do. But Archer does, too. I don’t know how much he told you about his past, but things have been hard for him. His mother died when he was born, and his father raised him just like Archer’s doing with his boys. I used to know the man before he died, had a little fun.” Mona nudged my arm. “He was a strange creature. I couldn’t have him around for very long because one way or another, he’d find a bottle. When he did, he’d sit for hours crying about how hard it was being a single father, and how if it weren’t for Archer he’d have been married and happy. Joe never knew how to show affection to Archer. He never hugged the boy or told him that he loved him. Seeing them together was like watching a soldier talking to his commanding officer. It was sad. Archer told me that the man never used to drink, but that life started to drag him down, and he didn’t know how else to cope. Joe told me that it was because he was lonely, and he knew that something in his son was broken. Archer needed a mother, and he never had one. It’s made him stiff and finicky. He’s constantly worrying, and he doesn’t know how to show the boys affection the way he should.”

  “I’ve never seen him like that.”

  “No, and you won’t. You’ve got a woman’s touch. When Archer is with you, he comes alive. I’ve never seen him so happy. I think that in a way you’re filling the gap that was created when his mother died. I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. I don’t even think he knows that he’s any different because of his mother’s death. All I know is that you’ve made him whole.”

  “This is so overwhelming. I don’t know if I want to take this risk.”

  “But you care about him.”

  “I do,” I conceded.

  “I saw something in Joe. That’s why I let him come around as often as I did. He wasn’t a degenerate, or even a true alcoholic. He was a good man that’d been pushed past the breaking point. He spent his time worrying about Archer and working as much as he could just so they could get by. He told me that when Archer was in middle school, he had three jobs so he could save money to put Archer through college. Archer is the exact same way, and that scares me because I don’t want him to end up alone and drunk the way his father did. I want him to be happy, and you make him happy. Goddammit, girl.” She pointed a finger at me. “You think I’d come down here if I didn’t know for certain that you were making a big mistake?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “He’s probably staring at his phone right now wondering why you haven’t called. You should see it. He’s a mess.”

  “Is he?”

  “What’d you expect?”

  “Exactly that. Come on; I’ll give you two dozen cookies on the house.”

  Mona hopped up off the bench and followed me inside. When she left, I took out my phone, careful to avoid Chloe, so I could call Archer. He ignored the call. I tried again, but he didn’t answer. He was probably too mad to talk to me, but I couldn’t give up. Mona was right. I had made a huge mistake. I decided to go visit him the second I got a chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Archer

  I felt the sun hit my face and sat up right away. I pulled my phone off the nightstand to check the time. It was eleven in the morning. I couldn’t remember sleeping that late since I was a kid. I got up to make my bed and stopped halfway through. I didn’t have the energy to do anything. I laid back down and grabbed my pillow. It smelled just like Zoe. I threw it against the wall and got up to shower.

  I got out and wiped the fog off the mirror. I looked even worse than I did the day before. My hair was too long, and my eyes were bulging out of their dark sockets. I took my time shaving my beard and perfecting my sideburns. When I was done, I still looked terrible, but at least I was clean.

  Rick called when I was putting my pants on.

  “Hello,” I said, my voice low and trembling.

  “You still all worked up over that girl? You’ve got to get it together.”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m itching for it. You still coming out with me tonight?”

  “Yeah, I don’t have anything better to do. You’re not going to make me dance with a stripper again, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with strippers? They know how to move.”

  “I want a normal girl.”

  “It’s a one-night stand, and don’t you forget that. I won’t have another repeat of last time. I’ll tell them you’re married.”

  I laughed. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would.”

  “All right, I’ll give you a call later. I’ve got things to do.” I hung up and walked to my closet to find a shirt. It didn’t matter what I wore. I’d end up changing in a few hours anyway. I pulled on a plain gray t-shirt and walked downstairs to pour myself a bowl of cereal.

  I left my phone upstairs. I didn’t want to have to worry about whether or not Zoe was going to call again or what I was going to say to her. She called the day before when I was in my office going over paperwork. I jumped when I heard the sound of my phone ringing. I couldn’t believe it when I saw her name came up.

  I reached out to press the talk button. It was finally over. I wouldn’t have to wonder about whether or not she was okay, or if she wanted to be with me. She did. But what if this happened again? I couldn’t expect her to stay forever, but she would stay. This could last for years, and if it did, I wouldn’t be able to recover when she finally left. I ignored the call and set my phone down. She called right back, so I shoved it into my desk drawer and went back to work. She texted me later that evening, but I knew that if I read what she’d have to say, she’d reel me in, and I’d just end getting hurt. I swiped the message away and ignored it.

  Even if I did talk to her, I didn’t know what I would say to her. I made myself look like a desperate fool. I sent her sixty desperate messages. I didn’t like her knowing that she broke my heart. I never showed that side of myself to anyone, not like that.

  I stared down at my cereal bowl while I pushed the flakes around. They were soggy, and the milk was warm, but I didn’t have anything else to do. This was the first time I’d had a whole day to myself in a long time. The house was empty, and most of the lights were off. Everything was quiet, so I was alone with my thoughts, and I didn’t like that.

  I took a risk, and I got hurt. Now I was doing what I had to do to protect myself and the boys. If Zoe and I were going to keep walking away from each other, it was only a matter of time before things got ugly, and the boys needed somebody stable who would stay by their side no matter what. I couldn’t expect Zoe to do that.

  I didn’t know why she walked away, but I knew that it was for the best. I just had to find a way to distract myself. I bought the antique couches in my living room because I didn’t want to encourage laziness. If I had nice, comfortable couches that I could sink into, I’d sit around all day and do nothing, but that also meant I couldn’t get comfortable when I sat down and turned on the TV.

  I tried changing into my swimming trunks and hopping into the pool, but the water was too cold, so I got changed and pulled out my laptop, hoping to lose myself in some mindless browsing. There was a picture of Zoe playing with Andrew and Abel on the desktop. They were laying on their backs reaching up to her, and she was smiling down at them. I slammed the screen shut and checked the time on my phone. It was late enough that I could justify going up into my room to get ready, but I was still early.

  I decided to let off some of the tension when I got into the shower. I turned the water on as hot as I could, letting the heat burn through my thoughts, washing away all of the regret and self-pity. It was a momentary distraction. Then, as my thoughts took a darker turn, it f
elt like I was punishing myself. I turned off the water and got out.

  I wanted to call Zoe back. I almost did, but I knew that I’d just end up getting myself into trouble. If I didn’t want my heart broken, I was going to have to take Rick’s approach and find comfort in strangers. If I didn’t know the girl, she couldn’t break my heart. I could just get my rocks off and move on. It’d be easier that way.

  I combed my hair to the side and added a spritz of cologne. Then I walked into the closet to look through my clothes. I didn’t want to stand out. I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing tonight. I’d sneak up next to a girl, charm her, get into her pants, then send her home as soon as we were done. It’d be easy.

  I settled on a pair of tight jeans and a black button up, then called Rick to tell him I was ready. He said he’d come pick me up in an hour, which meant I’d have to sit around waiting for him to show up. I laid back down on my bed and closed my eyes. I could still smell her.

  I wasn’t kidding anyone. I couldn’t go pick up some random woman and bring her back to the house. It wouldn’t work. I’d just end up feeling guilty for betraying Zoe. She wanted me, and I wanted her. Why were we torturing ourselves when we both wanted to be together?

  I took my phone out and stared down at it. I could call her, but what would I say? I acted like a child. I texted her so much that I probably freaked her out. Then, when she finally came around, I got mad and ignored her call, like some petty fool throwing a temper tantrum.

  She probably didn’t want to talk to me now. She hadn’t called me all day. This entire time I kept thinking that we’d get back together somehow, but if she wasn’t calling now, she wasn’t going to call. I had to accept that she wasn’t coming back.

  I texted Rick to tell him that I wasn’t going. I was just going to make things worse. He called me, but I ignored it. He texted me to say I was an idiot and that he was coming anyway. I told him I was going to bed, and that’s exactly what I planned on doing when I heard the doorbell ring.

  I sat up in bed, confused. Mona wouldn’t just show up at the house, and the cleaning staff was allowed to walk in and out as they pleased. Security took care of them. I threw myself off the bed and ran down to answer the door.

  When I opened it, Zoe rushed in and hugged me. “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks were moist. “I’m so sorry, Archer. Please, I know you’re mad at me. I wouldn’t blame you if you turned me away. I didn’t want to do it. I just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I didn’t want to get too close and end up getting hurt.”

  “I came on too strong.” I pulled away and turned around to walk back into the living room.

  “No, you didn’t.” She came in and closed the door behind her. “It was everything. I was staying with you and taking care of the boys, and we just got together. I was worried that things were moving too fast.”

  “What made you come back?” I needed to know that she had a good reason. I couldn’t deal with the uncertainty any longer.

  Zoe took a seat on the couch, and I sat down across from her. “It was Mona.”

  “Mona?”

  “I didn’t know anything about the boys’ mother, and I was too afraid to ask because you never talked about it. I asked her, and she told me about how much it hurt you when she died, and how hard it was for you, and how your father had to go through the same thing. She said it turned him into an alcoholic and drove him crazy.”

  “He died of cirrhosis of the liver.”

  “Mona said it was because he was so lonely and he had to raise you by himself. I didn’t want that to happen to you.”

  “So, you came back because of pity?”

  “No, it’s not pity. There’s affection and passion and a connection that I’d never thought possible. Worrying about somebody that you care about is perfectly natural. All of those things were already there before she came to see me.”

  “This could happen again,” I said. “You could get scared that we’re moving too fast, and then you’d leave again.”

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. What matters now is that you’re here with me, and we want to be together. For the moment, that’s enough. We’re both worriers, and we have to stop that. We can’t keep running ourselves ragged trying to hold everything together.”

  “You’re right.” I trained my eyes on her. “I’m not mad at you.”

  “You’re hurt, though. Why are you all dressed up?”

  “It’s Rick, that guy I was at the bar with. He convinced me that the only way I was going to get over you was if I went out and found somebody.” I watched her closely, searching for a reaction. There was a quick jolt, but she recovered quickly. “I didn’t want to do it, and I told him no several times, but he kept pushing me, so I agreed. Then, when I finished getting ready, I texted to tell him that I couldn’t go because I was too upset. I knew I’d feel terrible when I found somebody, even if I was certain you’d never come back.”

  Zoe got up from the couch and knelt in front of me. “Please don’t.”

  “Never.” I pulled her closer and wrapped my arms around her. She laid her head down on my lap. I could hear her sniffing and feel her tears staining my jeans. I held her there as long as I could. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

  “I feel the same way.” She looked up, smiling with tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re not mad at me?”

  “No, I don’t think I could be if I tried.”

  “Good.” She stood up, bent down, and kissed me. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Zoe

  I reached up to unbutton Archer’s shirt, slowly admiring his arms, studying the ridges, the little cliffs and mounds. They signaled hard work and fortitude, years of nothing but honing his mind and body. The result was the beast sitting before me, with his legs spread and his cock pressing against his fly.

  He sat back and let me do the work this time. I was glad he did. It was my turn to prove my devotion. His wasn’t in question. I’d done something terrible, and I needed him to know that it wouldn’t happen again, that I wanted to be with him and spend every day trying to make up for pulling away. How could I not? He was such a good man. He’d never walk away from me, not after all the time that we’d spent together. A man like that was worth cherishing—worshipping.

  I let him pull his shirt off so I could take in his monstrous form. I was going to memorize every part of him, every scar, every strip of ink, every fiber of his skin. I wanted to burn the image into my mind so that I could remember that this man was real. He cared, and he wasn’t leaving. If I forgot that, I’d take him for granted.

  He pulled forward, lifted my chin, and pressed his lips to mine. Then, he grabbed me by the collar and threw me back. He crawled on top of me. It wasn’t about my body. It was the way I sighed when he pressed his tongue through, and the fluttering breath that left my lips when he pushed his hands under my bra so he could cup my breasts, flicking his thumb back and forth, back and forth, over my nipples.

  His touch started a chain reaction. Every caress caused another shiver, adding fuel to the fire that spread out from between my thighs. He lifted my shirt up over my head and leaned down to kiss my neck, my chest, and my stomach.

  He was already working on the clasp on my bra. It snapped open, fell off, and he feasted. One thumb still danced over my nipple while his tongue circled the other, moving faster and faster, kindling the blaze that got hotter every second.

  I reached up to wrap my arm around his back, bracing myself against the heat from his breath, flowing down my body, covering my breasts. It was invigorating knowing that he would forgive me after what I’d done, and that he was so happy that I’d come back.

  He moved his hands down my sides, then bit down on my lower lip. He’d been working on the button on my pants, and I’d barely even noticed. He rose up, pulled them off, and threw them beside the couch. I ran my fingers up his stomach, his chest, and his nipples. Archer
laughed, low and deep. It was just what my body needed. The heat between my thighs was unbearable—desperate. Nothing could put out the wildfire growing inside me.

  His fingers stroked my thighs, moving upwards, edging toward the spot between my legs. His eyes gazed down at me, studying the way I struggled to hold them together, thinking that I could contain the firestorm. He ripped them open and stared down at me.

  “Wet and ready,” he said. He slid his finger over my lips.

  The heat was excruciating, coupled with an incorrigible desperation. I tried to close my legs again, but he held them apart. “No,” he laughed. “Come here.” His breath poured in, his tongue soon after. Then he pressed my clit between my lips so he could dance his tongue over the tip.

  His finger slipped through. He knew where to go now. There was no searching or fumbling around. He got right to the point, moved back and forth, all while licking around my clit. It became a game to him. He matched the movements of his finger and tongue together, moving them both to the same rhythm, faster and faster. I could see him smiling from between my legs.

  The throbbing, the heat, and the wetness, all combined, created a torrent of sensations. That feeling moved of its own accord. There was no way I could stop it. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t sure I could take the shock.

  Archer pulled his head up and pinched my clit. “O-o-o-h,” I moaned. Whatever it was that had been growing inside me took hold. It reached out from between my thighs, sending the heat exploding outwards in every direction. I stared up at Archer. He was watching it play out while he stroked his now exposed dick.

  He pulled it up and rested it on the space between my lips. Then, with a laugh, he slapped it down hard. The heat rose up again as if it’d never dissipated. “You ready for a second round?” he asked.