Boost by Vi Summers

 

Chapter 21

-Greer-

 

 

I glanced across at Raf while adjusting my underwear, wishing I could remove the damp, irritating material completely.

He wore the lazy smirk well. Too well. Infuriatingly well.

As the pleasure-high subsided, it gave way to ramifications; we just crossed boundaries for a second time, and it made things messier. Not only that, but I barely resisted.

“Rafael?” I said, keeping my tone light.

He tipped his head my way to indicate he was listening.

“I’m not sure where to go from here. I mean, I’ve never, er, crossed the line with a client before. I think Colton will need to know. He may want to change PR reps.”

Guilt slammed into me. I could have just cost our firm hundreds of thousands of dollars over this mistake.

“I won’t let that happen,” Raf stated, as if it were that simple.

I shook my head. He wasn’t grasping my meaning. “There are high-profile reputations at stake, and it would look bad if-”

“You mean yours and your firm’s reputation?” he cut in angrily. “Fuck, Greer, I just finger-fucked you on a suburban street in the dead of night, not filmed it and blackmailed your fucking firm. Fuck!”

He ran a hand down his face, and I balked when I realized it was the same hand that had been buried between my legs. As if realizing the same thing, Raf held it up and inspected his fingers.

I expected a smirk. A snort of amusement. Instead, I got a hard glare that felt as scathing as it looked.

“I didn’t pick you as fickle, Boss Lady.”

“Fickle?” I exclaimed indignantly. “I almost fucked a client. What part of that doesn’t scream inappropriate to you?”

A long, sinister-like laugh rolled from him. “Baby, we didn’t almost fuck. Almost fucking is when my cock is sliding through your juices and teasing your pussy opening.”

I gulped hard. That single description turned my insides molten.

“Besides, almostfucking is something I never do,” he added needlessly. The cock-sure smirk was back.

“This was a mistake. Take me home,” I demanded, for a second time.

“No.”

I angled toward him. “Yes, Raf. Or take me back to the gala!”

His jaw ticked. “I said no.”

“Oh great, so you’re going to punish me because you didn’t get your own way?” I huffed, and crossed my arms, then uncrossed them when I saw how much it pushed up my cleavage.

“Mamacita, you agreed to my way as soon as you sat your ass in this damn car, and again when you let my fingers inside you. Now, I’mma get us some ice cream, then drop you home.”

“And what if I don’t want ice cream?”

He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Then don’t have any.”

I bit back a retort and shook my head. My teeth ground together as I mentally worked through the frustrations.

Tonight, Rafael had worn the tux and walked through the minefield of money and power, yet the moment he shucked out of the jacket and bow-tie, the boy from Compton reappeared. The one that did and said whatever he wanted, consequences be damned.

Studying him through the shadows, I let out a snort. “Let me guess, you’re a Rocky Road kind of guy, or Butter Pecan?”

He rolled his head my way and a wry smile tilted one corner of his mouth. A single word was pronounced as if it was dipped in sex itself. “Vanilla.”

I fought a smile. “You’re lying.”

“Have you ever known me to lie, Boss Lady?”

He had a point; as far as I was aware, during the entire month and a half I’d known him, all that came out of his mouth was the sharp-edged truth.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to not fall into the trap of verbally sparring with him again. I could hold my own in the boardroom and stand in front of the media without breaking a sweat, but put me next to Rafael Ortiz and my sensibilities were scrambled.

We headed south and soon pulled into the drive-through lane of an ice cream parlour I didn’t know existed.

“You know this place?” I asked, shifting forward to check out the menu.

“Best this side of the city,” he mumbled, while leaning across my lap to open the glove compartment.

I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped when I caught sight of a handgun haphazardly tossed in among the papers and cash.

Raf’s dark eyes flicked up to meet mine. “Problem?”

Holding his unwavering stare, I slowly inhaled while willing my pulse to calm.

“Depends on why you’re concealing a firearm and a large sum of money in your car.”

“Business, baby.” Raf lifted his brows once and gave me a toothy grin that was anything but angelic. He plucked out a single, large-denomination note. “My treat.”

“If that gets out, it’s not going to look good,” I warned.

He seemed un-phased as he clicked the glove compartment closed. “It won’t get out. Now, what do you want?”

Casting my attention outside again, I quickly read the menu for the first thing that was remotely appealing.

“Burnt caramel sundae with caramel topping, and pistachios.”

Raf tilted his head back and studied me down his nose like he did when he was either surprised or taken off-guard.

“Good choice, Boss Lady.” He turned to place the order, adding a vanilla sundae with berry topping and roasted strawberries for himself.

He relaxed back and paused when he saw my expression. “What?”

An incredulous laugh escaped. “Nothing. Just surprised, I guess.”

Raf chuckled. “And what? I like berries; the sweeter, the better.”

His eyes dropped suggestively to my lap where the high split in my dress showed a lot more sitting down than when it did standing.

I fought against the urge to attempt to cover up, and the heat on my cheeks intensified when Rafael’s eyes met mine again.

He coasted forward to the open window, paid the cashier, then received our sundaes in silence. Handing them both my way, he then cruised into the parking lot, reversed into a park, and cut the engine. Without a word of explanation, he exited the car and rounded the hood. My door popped open seconds later.

“Out you get, Boss Lady.”

“What?” 

Raf ignored me and plucked the sundaes from my hands. “No eating in my car. C’mon.” He dashed his head to the side, then moved rearward.

Unbuckling in haste, I slid from the passenger seat. I caught Raf’s heated gaze following my every movement; eyes roving from my ankle to my hips, and finally bust once I was standing.

“It’s rude to stare,” I teased, as I met him at the trunk of his car.

He casually leaned his ass against it and handed me back my sundae. “Couldn’t help but appreciate the view.”

I smiled softly without deflecting his compliment, focusing on scooping sundae onto the little plastic spoon.

Raf’s focus followed the arc of the spoon lifting to my lips, and he licked his as I sucked the ice cream off.

He cleared his throat roughly. “Good?”

I smiled internally, knowing I had fractured his normally cool and nonchalant composure.

“It really is. Want to try some?”

Despite his eyes narrowing a fraction, he nodded. “Sure.”

I expected him to pluck the tub from my fingers again. Instead, he pushed off the car and stepped close. Watching. Waiting.

Suddenly unsure, I stopped stabbing at the sundae. When Raf ducked slightly, I then grasped his meaning.

He held my eye contact, and I held my breath as I lifted the spoon to his parted mouth. His tongue came out to meet the spoon first, just as it had when he kissed me in the car earlier. The sight made me breathless and wanton. It was incredibly sexy, and confrontingly intimate.

He hummed, breaking my daze. “It’s good. Wanna try mine?”

“Oh, you have some first.”

He waved me off. “I’ve had this countless times before, so I can wait until you’ve had a taste.”

I didn’t miss the added weight to his words. It echoed in the shadows of his eyes and resonated deep in my core.

Opening my mouth in wait for his spoon, I smiled nervously when he pinned me to the spot with his intense stare. His attention only wavered and dropped when I closed my lips around the spoon.

I saw his heavy swallow. Heat unfurled low in my belly. Our chemistry was undeniable. Crackling and magnetic, electrifying the air around us.

Raf withdrew the spoon at a painfully slow pace, running his tongue along his lower lip as he did so. And I swore I heard a low growl rumble within his chest.

When I went to lick the residual ice cream off my lip, Raf anticipated the action. I startled when his warm hand cupped my jaw, then relaxed when his thumb pushed against the corner of my mouth.

“Lick,” he demanded, low and gritty.

My heart stumbled as I held his penetrating gaze. So slowly it almost hurt, I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, reveling when his eyes darkened further. When my tongue contacted his thumb, he pushed it inside the corner of my mouth. As if under his spell, my lips closed and gently sucked. Raf pursed his lips and breathed heavily, his nostrils flaring with each inhale. A tremble ran through his touch, like he was barely holding back restraint.

“Fuck,” he hissed, confirming my assumptions.

He pulled back abruptly, making my lips pop from the loss, and adjusted himself within his tux pants. “Third fucking time tonight, mamacita. The ache is making me feel sick now.”

I burst out a laugh. “You’re your own worst enemy. I’ve hardly touched you.”

His sharp glare locked on me again, and I stilled. “That’s the problem.”

With what sounded like an amused huff through his nose, he then shook his head. “Eat your sundae, Boss Lady.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, there was disappointment in his tone. Regret perhaps. Either way, it almost made me feel a little sorry for him. It was the right call, though. We had already crossed too many lines tonight, and we both had the sense to see that.