The Boss Vol. 6: a Hot Billionaire Romance (4 page)

“Keep my business running.”

“Oh,
now
I’m good enough to be back at work?”

“You always were.” He tipped up my chin. “Too good—more than I’m comfortable with, Ms. Copeland.”

“I think that was a compliment.” I squinted at him. “Sort of.”

“Bed, Ms. Copeland.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I
flipped
stations on the television as I waited for Blake to finish his shower. Cranky didn’t even cover my mood that morning. Three hours of sleep was worse than no sleep at all as far as I was concerned.

I perched on the end of the bed as annoying, chirpy morning show voices drove me closer to the edge. Finally I got so deep into the channels I found syndicated television. Six in the morning was made for kickass monsters evidently.

I paused when Cordelia Chase shrieked. Yeah, I could do with some Angel to start the day. “Come on, Cordie, I know you’re more kickass than that.”

“Are you talking to an inanimate object?”

I twisted to look at Blake. “I talk to you all day, don’t I?”

“I suppose I walked into that. Though to be honest, I’m rarely sitting still.”

“That’s true.” I climbed off the massive bed and padded across to him. His hair was slicked back and wet, and a towel was tucked low on his hip.

So domestic.

I’d been getting used to the sleeping-in-the-same-bed thing, but he was rarely there when I woke up. “What’s so special today? You’re usually gone well before five.”

“Evidently I’m missing out on vampires and screams for my trouble.”

“Don’t knock it. Vampire detectives are very sexy.”

“Is that so?” He glanced at the television. “I suppose. If you go for the cro-magnon, Neanderthal type.”

I swiveled back to the wide screen television. “I suppose his forehead is a little prominent. Or it could be the vampire makeup.”

“Hmm.”

I shrugged. “Better than a chirpy talkshow host.”

“We can agree in that regard.”

I sighed. Blake, of course, usually tuned the TV to the news or a financial show. Boring. I handed him the remote. “I suppose you want CNN or something.”

He took the remote and tossed it on the bed. His gaze drifted to the twisted sheets. I would’ve liked to think it was because he wanted to toss me onto the mattress, but it was probably because the bed was unmade. The dude had some serious issues with keeping a place tidy.

Was it wrong that I got off on leaving things slightly askew? His tie, his bed, my clothes on a chair?

Most likely.

A psychologist would probably enjoy the hell out of a couch session with me.

“I’d like to change our schedules a little.”

“Oh?”

“I need you to cover more of my west coast dealings for the rest of the calendar year. So we’ll be going in a little later.”

The rest of the calendar year, so under two weeks. Not exactly a huge stretch of time.

“All right.” I tilted my head. “Wait…
we
?”

He nodded.

“It’s not like we work a nine-to-five shift. I seem to remember a few dashes for the door well past the witching hour.”

He sighed. “Yes, but we need to keep up appearances. If Annabelle is to be believed—”

“Why would she lie?”

Blake simply raised a brow. Hell. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly like my grandmother was keen on keeping things low-key. She enjoyed dramatics when it suited her.

Okay, so it suited her more than I preferred to own up to.

Whatever.

“If Annabelle is to be believed, you are in danger. And that means we need to work smart. We’ll go in later so that we can work a little later, but not too late. I want to be able to monitor the comings and goings of the office and here at the house, as well as the beach house.”

I frowned. “Monitor?”

He moved away and slipped off the towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he walked to his armoire. Effortlessly beautiful, and more than comfortable with his body, he didn’t pay attention to my slack-jawed reaction in the mirror.

Not sure I was ever going to get used to this whole other side of Blake. I know I sounded a little crazy—even to myself—but getting used to the intimacy of us when we weren’t skin to skin was a little nerve-racking.

No matter how long we were together, I was never going to saunter around the house naked. In the dark was one thing, but with the gray wash of dawn creeping over the sky and through every blessed window of his master bedroom…yeah, that was a no.

He snapped out a pair of boxer briefs and stepped into them. I tried not to stare, but truthfully, they hugged his ridiculously fine form.

Click back into gear, Grace.

“Monitor?” I asked again when my brain behaved.

“Yes. I’ve wired all of the houses with a closed circuit system.”

I swiveled around and stared into the corners. “I don’t see any cameras.”

“It’s a relatively new set-up. I’m in the beta program. Max Chapel is a genius when it comes to finding ways to improve security.”

I frowned. I knew that name. We—
he
—did a lot of business with Chapel Enterprises. I usually had to send them a weekly invoice.

I tried to bring the information up in my well-stuffed memory banks. As antisocial as Blake was, he was extremely successful at building his brand and his repertoire of associates and clients.

“Filament,” I said quietly.

“Correct. One of the places it is being tested is in the vestibule.”

I swallowed. The vestibule that we’d been intimate in that first time.

I tried not to think about the fact that the entire security team probably saw my body.

Blake came over to me. He’d slipped on a pale blue dress shirt over his smooth skin, but it was still unbuttoned. He cupped my face. “No one saw us.”

I flushed and looked away. Relief threatened to drown me. I couldn’t speak. He’d protected me. Again.

Just when I was ready to write him off as a world-class asshole—and after last night’s stalking revelations, I’d been sorely tempted—he did things like this that made me rethink every-damn-thing.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “How does it work?”

“The filaments are in the frame of my glass in that particular set-up. Same as in this house, and at Annabelle’s house. The systems aren’t fully operational yet, but close.”

“So no one would know.”

“If anyone knows me, they are aware of my penchant for security, but no, it’s not obvious. However, I have placed some cameras in certain areas to throw people off. The police in the Cove and Marblehead are beyond useless. They don’t want to believe the break-ins were anything other than a home invasion or prank.”

I sighed and stepped out of his hold. “We know it wasn’t. Not when they were so focused on finding something in the bookcases. Obviously they were looking for something small.”

He caught my hand. “The drive.”

I looked up at him. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Which is why I will not risk you, Ms. Copeland.”

I squeezed his fingers. “I’m a big girl—”

“No.” The fierceness in his eyes gave me pause. And seriously tight nipples. What was it about that side of him that woke everything up inside me? Because high-handed possessive guys had never been my thing.

Until him.

“Whomever frightened Annabelle had to know she had some sort of information. And obviously they want said information. So, you’re officially on lockdown.”

I bristled. He wanted me to. The tic in his jaw and stony glare spoke volumes. What did it say about us that we were always a little better when we were on edge?

How could I love a man who never allowed me restful moments?

Even worse, how could I love someone who lied to me at every turn?

Could I even call that love?

Complete trust was number one on the checkmark guide to love and forever. Of course our list had been edited so many times it didn’t even resemble the first one.

Starting with a picture of a boy who barely dented my memory banks even though the proof was in technicolor for me to pore over. And I would, probably for hours. Anything to jog my recollection. Still, I couldn’t grasp those little whispers of memory.

And now, I had this hulking, intense version of that boy living in the epicenter of my world.

I looked down to see my fingers grasping the edges of his shirt.

His chest was expanding with tension and the air between us crackled. How could I not remember this between us?

It feels like it had to have always been there. From that first day in his office with his glasses between his teeth and his gaze zeroing in on me—almost a foregone conclusion.

Why didn’t it register before?

Was I that oblivious?

The fact that I had to ask myself that question was frustrating and pathetic. And not the point of this conversation. As usual, the heavy tension and anger superseded my focus on the matter at hand.

I’d resisted voicing my fears, but I couldn’t ignore them anymore. “Do you think my grandmother was into something illegal?”

“I think you know the answer to that already.”

“I just don’t understand why. She wasn’t that kind of person when I was a child. I’m certain of it. What changed?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I wish I could give you an answer.”

“Me too.” I released the edges of his shirt and smoothed them down as I slowly buttoned it closed. His nostrils flared and that jaw tic started up again.

Awareness bloomed to life. The tie thing was a kink I hadn’t known I had before I met him.

So many things he’d awakened in me.

I got to the bottom of his shirt and the back of my fingers brushed over his increasing hardness.

I ached to curl my fingers around his shaft, to drag my thumb over and around his head until he finally groaned, but I didn’t. The need to button him up was more important than touching his skin right now.

I skirted around him to his walk in closet and selected a cranberry-colored tie with a thin navy line. When I turned back to him, he was standing in the same spot, his hands fisted at his sides.

I wasn’t sure if he was indulging me, or preparing to strike. Cordelia and Gunn were arguing in the background on the TV, but I had one focus.

Him. Always him.

I circled him, trailing my fingertips over the wide plane of his back, the hard curve of shoulder and pecs, to the buttons again. I walked up the placket of buttons to his collar and flipped it up.

He lifted his chin and looked down at me through his lashes. My nipples beaded up until they showed under the heavy material. I was wearing a matching shirt, mine in snowy white. He seemed to like me in his clothes.

He wouldn’t say it, but his body language was the only way I could figure him out anyway.

Just like now.

Yet again I was teetering on a precipice, and it was labeled
Blake Carson
. I was either going to plummet to a fiery crash, or fall harder for this man. I still wasn’t sure which was preferable.

I raised my arms to drape the tie around his neck. He didn’t bend to help me. Oh, no there was no giving an inch when it came to this man. Not now.

Not last. Last night had been a storm without end.

He’d demanded participation and my submission. And I’d given it. Lord, I’d given it over and over again.

But at the oddest times, he conceded too. It wasn’t all just his way or the highway. Just most of the time.

Here and now I wanted to put my mark on him. Even if that mark was an intricately knotted tie. Memories of our night in the vestibule intruded as silk whispered against silk between us.

That night there’d been no words either.

I tucked, twisted, tugged, and finally the Eldridge knot took form. I tightened it until it was just under his Adam’s apple. His citrus scent seeped through the silk and cotton. His soap had become my soap.

The spicy component to him wasn’t evident yet. The layer of scent from his cologne that transferred to my skin with each stroke of his hands.

The press of his flesh on mine.

The way he covered me so completely.

“Grace.” His voice was barely a husky rumble.

Part of me wanted to reach under the tails of his shirt. I knew what I’d find.

He would be as turned on as me.

Hard.

The tip of his cock would be tight and dark, slicked with his salty pre-cum.

His fisted hands went to the braid I wore for sleep and tugged my head back. My lips parted and he swore.

“You’re not going to ruin that perfect knot I created for a quick fuck, are you, Blake?”

He swung me around and kicked out my ankles. His fingers twisted in my hair. I grinned as he pushed my cheek into the mattress.

I took perverse pleasure in making him lose control.

He shoved up the shirt I was wearing. He swore ripely once more. I wasn’t wearing any panties and I was dripping.

There was no shame inside me. I was used to my body’s reaction to him, even if I hated it some days.

His hand spanned my lower back as he angled me just how he wanted me. I looked up, and the mirror of his armoire was right
there
.

So close.

He flipped his tie over his shoulder and tugged up his shirt. Already his boxers were bunched around his thighs. He angled that magnificent cock toward me.

“Yes.”

His brows snapped down as he studied us in the glass. I saw the anger and lust warring in his gaze.

“Look at me. Look at us.” God, was that my voice?

He straightened as he stared at us in the mirror. He gripped my braid again, slightly arching me back. “Is this what you want?”

I gripped the sheets for purchase. There was danger in his eyes. And I wanted all of it. The darker side of Blake lured me like nothing else. “Yes.”

He released my hair and shoved at his shirt, lifting it out of the way. I rose onto my forearms to watch.

God, he was stupidly beautiful. His stomach muscles quivered with each breath as he took himself in hand.

The angle in the mirror wasn’t good for me. I couldn’t see enough. I twisted to look over my shoulder and he adjusted my hips to line us up. I was too short, and his bed too tall. He swiped the head of his cock along my slit. I rose onto my toes to urge him inside me, but that wasn’t in his plan.

Why couldn’t he be like any other guy and just go at me? Moments like the counter explosion the night before were so rare. It was so unusual for him to lose all control.