Brazen Bossman: A Hero Club Novel, стр. 47

“God. Damn.” I bury my face in the crook of her neck. My cock jerks as she milks me for everything I have.

“You know,” she pauses to lick her lips, “everything can’t be handled with sex.”

“I beg to differ. We seem to have figured it out nicely.” I lay kisses along her throat.

“Everyone in the building across the street got one hell of a show.”

I look out the window to the busy street below. “Good. It’ll give the married, undersexed executives a thrill.”

We untangle ourselves from one another, and start to piece ourselves back together.

“You didn’t use a condom,” she says as she buttons her top.

“Things got away from me. Heat of the moment. I know that’s a bullshit excuse.” I fasten my belt back in place.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill regardless, and I trust that you’re clean… right?” She walks over to use a mirrored piece of artwork on the far wall to fluff her hair.

“I am.”

“Nathanial, don’t think because I came in here and we did what we just did, that I’m happy right now. I know you aren’t either.”

I sink into my office chair, watching her use her fingernail to fix her smudged lipstick.

“What happened in that meeting aside and the general never-ending stress of this place?” I whirl my finger in the air. “What makes you say that?”

“Is your father okay?”

She discards her heels by the door and sinks into the soft, leather reading chair I have tucked in the corner by the bar cart.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I heard you on the phone, and you seemed really upset before the meeting. Nathanial, I worked for your father for five years. I’m not stupid, okay? I noticed the changes happening in him toward the end of his time here. From forgetting meetings, to seeming lost in the middle of a conversation.”

“You were spying on me? Listening to my conversation?”

Why would she do that? What kind of person listens to another person’s private conversation?

“I’m asking you about your father’s health, because I care about him and you’re only concerned with the fact that I overhead a portion of a conversation?”

“You stood outside of my door and spied on me.”

“I wouldn’t call it spying. The call seemed urgent when you left me, and I could hear you when I walked by on my way to the conference room.”

“And yet you stuck around and eavesdropped long enough to know that I was talking about my father?” My volume shifts up just enough to get my point across.

“Okay. Wow.” She holds up her hands then rises to her feet. “You have trust and anger issues that you unfairly throw at my feet. When will you get it through your very dense head that I care about you? I ask questions because I care. It’s always been my downfall. I fight for what I think is right and I want to help everyone I can. I’m standing here, freshly fucked, in the middle of the day, in your office, trying to talk to you about what is going on because I CARE ABOUT YOU, and you’re getting mad at me!”

“Piper. Sit down.”

“No. When you are ready to let your walls down long enough to let me in, come find me. I have enough happening in my orbit right now. I can’t keep trying to pick away at your walls with a butter knife. When you get your head out of your ass… I’m all yours.”

She steps back into her stilettos and bolts out the door before I can say another word.

I’ve never understood the phrase “silence is deafening” more than I do right now.

Every conflict we seem to have spirals so out of control that my brain is left spinning. I don’t like seeing her upset. The last thing I want is for her to be hurting; especially because of something I’ve done to her.

Do I enjoy pushing her buttons for fun? Of course I do, but I don’t want to see her sad. Ever.

I’m alone with my thoughts for a total of five fucking minutes before I am able to process what this sinking rock in my stomach actually is. I want to go to her, wrap her up in my arms, and whisk her away somewhere to keep her forever, because for the first time in my life… I think I’m falling for someone. Hard.

Fucking hell.