My Boss’s Secret by Taryn Quinn

Eighteen

I waitedfor her to freak out.

Great job at going slow and keeping the pressure off, moron.

She stared at me for a long moment before she shook her head and escaped down the hall with a vague, “make yourself comfortable.”

Easier said than done when I could hear the water turn on in the bathroom and understood full well how close I was to her naked, wet, likely soapy body.

Down, boy.

I pressed a hand against my eager cock, which didn’t exactly have it lowering to half-mast. The situation was dire enough I briefly considered investigating if she had a half bath elsewhere in the apartment. Pre-gaming might be wise unless I wanted to embarrass myself.

But if I needed to come in my damn pants like a teenager to make her understand what she did to me, so be it. I’d just embrace my torment.

I glanced around her ridiculously tidy living room. It was this put together without her even realizing she’d be having someone over. Talk about a neat freak. She was probably quick in the shower too, but I’d have at least a few moments to myself.

Ones where I would not even think about touching my dick.

Now what?

My inner attorney wanted to investigate her place while I had a couple minutes alone. Nothing too invasive. Just a little preliminary scoping things out. But the part of me that was working my ass off at not fucking this up kept me rooted to the thin blue carpet.

This place was full of blue. Blue walls. Blue rug. Gauzy blue curtains. The place was quaint and cozy, if a bit reminiscent of a hut for a Smurf, right down to the low ceilings.

Well, at least until I wandered into the next room, which I assumed originally had been meant to be a dining room. April had made it into more of a combined library-slash-crafting space with lots of wide white shelves and low white benches with lots of pillows and pale wood tables everywhere. Most of them contained various projects in progress, mostly of the home decor variety with a fall or holiday theme. Sprigs of fall flowers with bows in various stages of completion, oddly shaped vessels and vases standing at the ready for those blooms. Creatively decorated tags meant for names or prices were mixed in with small painted plaques with cheerful sayings.

Home is where the heart is.

Love fills this home.

Family is spelled love.

And then a surprising inclusion: The cook says it’s takeout night.

Its slim canister held a pair of wooden slatted forks and a rolled laminated paper that I imagined was supposed to indicate a restaurant menu.

Clever.

The bookshelves held more of the same—some finished projects, some shelved for a later date—interspersed with big craft how-to books and magazines. A few romance novels were tucked in here and there, most of them dog-eared and probably well-loved.

I picked one off the shelf and flicked through a few pages. So, she had a romantic soul. I wanted to indulge it.

Indulge all her appetites, including the ones that had led her to put a cat bookmark on page 191 on a scene with a blindfold and a feather.

Hmm, I could work with that. Maybe not a feather, unless I came across any enterprising pigeons on the windowsill. But I could improvise.

I put back the book and looked around, savoring being in a space that felt so light and airy and like April. She was all around me, and I never wanted to leave. Even her luxuriant vanilla scent seemed to waft from the see-through curtains. The morning’s clouds had burned off, leaving only a blue cloudless sky and abundant sunshine, filling the room.

Metaphor? Maybe.

I fucking hoped so.

A basket overflowing with ribbons and lengths of brightly-colored fabrics sat on the rug next to a corner table with an honest-to-God vintage-looking sewing machine. One of those old fabric tomato things sat next to it, covered in tons of pins. Beside it sat a pair of scissors with a cap that was shaped like a middle finger.

I grinned. My girl’s backbone showed up in unexpected places. I wanted more of it. More of her.

The chair in front of the machine was built well enough not to list under my weight as I sat down. Idly, I picked up the basket of fabrics, tossing it aside with a…manful squeal when it yowled and exploded with projectiles of fur and fabric in all directions.

I clutched my chest and caught my breath as I tried to process what had just happened. Only fully comprehending when I noticed the pissed-off pair of green eyes peering at me from under one of the tables.

Guess I’d disrupted Kit-Kat’s catnap.

I got down on my knees and braced myself on my forearms as I inched forward. “Hey there, pretty girl.” In fact, I did not know if she was pretty, but her eyes certainly were. They were even more beautiful in their absolute disgust.

We’d gotten off on the right foot, all right.

“Hi there, Kit-Kat. I’ve heard a lot about you. I don’t suppose you’ve heard about me? Probably not, since your mom didn’t even know my name until today. So glad we finally have that out of the way.”

The cat seemed unconcerned.

“Listen, I’m sorry I interrupted your nap. That was rude of me. But I didn’t see you buried in there. It looks like a nice place to sleep, though. I haven’t been sleeping much, so if I could get some rest in a basket that comfortable, I’d probably check out too. And the sun was shining on you too, wasn’t it? Cats love sunshine. Humans too, but not your mom because she’s too fair and she burns too easily.”

More staring.

“I wanted to talk to you privately, so this is a good time as any. I don’t know how long you’ve lived with your mom, but you have the insider information I don’t. What does she like? I don’t mean the usual female stuff like flowers and candy, although I wouldn’t mind that intel too.” I propped my chin on my palm. “But maybe her favorite food? Favorite movie? I happen to know her favorite color, but that might’ve been pillow talk. Maybe she really loves lemon yellow or something.”

“It used to be blue, but I’ve developed an appreciation for green.”

At April’s soft reply, I jerked into a sitting position and glanced up to find her lingering just outside the doorway with her long blond hair wet and loose around her shoulders. A ridiculously soft and fluffy gray sweater dipped off one shoulder, revealing a dark gray bra strap, and a pair of tight jeans that rode just below her belly button and exposed a teasing gap of skin. Her jeans hugged her and left nothing to the imagination.

But I was imagining just the same.

My gaze traveled down the long curves of her legs, finally landing on her bare feet and baby pink toenails. Toes that were currently curling into the rug.

I wanted to elicit that reaction from her for a whole different reason.

Soon.

Very soon.

My throat had gone dry. I couldn’t speak. Probably a good thing or else I would’ve let out another of those manful squeals as Kit-Kat skulked out from the table and pranced toward me with her tail held high before she climbed up on my lap, gave me a flat stare, and curled up on my folded legs as if she’d decided I was better than a basket of fabric.

I could guarantee no part of me was softer than that material. Especially since Kit-Kat was using…certain engaged parts of my anatomy as a body pillow.

At least she hadn’t tried to bite me. Any part of me. But the day was young.

April’s laughter filtered through the embarrassed buzz in my head. I frowned and looked up at her, mesmerized all over again by the picture she made in the doorway, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, with her hand cupped over her mouth.

I was so fucking in love with her, I couldn’t see straight.

“Looks like I’ve already been replaced.” She frowned at my lap. “Is she laying against your—”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And that’s not a trick of the light?”

“If it is, it’s a shaft straight from heaven.”

A giggle burst out of her. The best sound ever.

“So, about that whole hating men thing—”

She lifted her hands. “Literally every one she’s met in my presence. Leave it to you. You didn’t even have to bribe her with soft chicken.”

“Seems like she prefers hard cock at the moment.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I’mterrible? You’re wearing a sweater I want nothing more than to dive underneath to see what kind of bra you have on, and I’m stuck over here with a cat on my lap.”

She wetted her lips. “You want pussy, right?”

I was so twisted up it took me a minute. When I got it, I growled—especially as she teasingly unbuttoned her sweater as she strolled toward me. With each inch of skin revealed, I swallowed.

She didn’t stop.

The bottom of her bra was some studded contraption that cupped her breasts with peekaboo lace and an intricate fabric cage. The shoulders of her sweater fell lower, and she tilted her head, playing the role of seductress to the hilt.

“In case you’re wondering, these aren’t my usual work clothes. I wore these for you. And for me.” She let out a breathy sigh. “I wanted to see that look in your eyes as you peeled them off of me.” She toyed with the panel of lace that guarded one shell pink nipple. “But I think I want to peel them off myself.”

“You’re so damn gorgeous,” I gritted out.

“You make me feel as if I am.” She stroked the waistband of her jeans. “Am I supposed to pretend I don’t want this? Maybe string you along, make you wait, see if you’re genuine about wanting more than getting inside me.” The sound of her zipper opening sent a shiver down my spine.

“I do want more. A fucking lot more.”

She pursed her lips and eased her fingertip into the vee she’d made. Her gaze locked on mine, never leaving as she nudged aside the scrap of gray guarding her pussy. Her finger slid inside and just as quickly back out before she took a shaky breath and held out her hand to me.

I caught it in both of mine, dragging them into my mouth and sucking her taste inside me greedily.

Kit-Kat made a plaintive sound and streaked off my lap, darting out of the room with her furry tail twitching.

I lurched to my feet and pulled April into my arms, feasting on her lips and transferring the hint of sweet flavor she’d taunted me with. She barely had a chance to kiss me back before I was on the move down her body, yanking at the lace. I tugged first one tip then the other between my teeth. Alternating my kisses between them, not tempering the pressure, giving her an edge of pain that made her cry out. I jerked her zipper as far down as I could get it so I could wedge my hand inside.

She was positively dripping.

“Oh, fuck, baby, let me take care of you.” I dropped to my knees before she could argue, yanking her jeans down over her ass and pressing my face to her mound. “This. This is what I couldn’t get out of my head.” I didn’t want to tear her tiny scrap of nothing, but I felt big and clumsy and desperate as the fabric rent between my fists. And then I was on her, my mouth wild against her soaked flesh, lashing between her swollen lips as she speared her fingers through my hair and hauled me deeper into her inferno.

I wanted to burn. To lose myself inside her. My fingers sliding into the molten clasp of her made us both groan. With my free hand, I jerked down the zipper of my trousers, fisting my weighty cock with a hiss of relief.

“Yes. God, yes,” she whispered, and I thought she meant what I was doing with my fingers. But when I glanced up, she was watching me brutally work my cock, enough that a stream of arousal trickled from the tip. “That’s so hot.”

“You’re hot. You.” I moved my hand upward to cage her proud little clit between my fingers, licking it hungrily while my other hand pressed my luck. Knowing she was eating me up with her eyes had me going faster, harder, trying to show off for her even as I was crazed to taste her coming undone.

“I want you to come.”

“Want me to come?” I repeated, almost unable to hear my own voice over the loud hum in my ears.

She nodded frantically.

“Then come in my mouth. Don’t make me beg.” I grabbed her leg and hiked it over my shoulder, nearly overbalancing her when the jeans bunched around her other ankle made her stumble. But she righted herself by gripping a handful of my hair, and that was all it took to have my cock spurting all over my goddamn pants as if this was the first time a woman had touched me.

For all intents and purposes, it might as well have been.

She cried out, following me, rocking into my lips and my questing fingers and the appreciative groans I couldn’t hold back. Feeling her quake under my mouth made my orgasm linger even longer, and I could do nothing more than tongue her through the final pulses.

Then I saw the big purpling bruise wrapping around the side of her hip.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Forgetting the mess I’d made, I jerked to my feet to turn her around so I could check out her ass and the backs of her legs, yanking her jeans away as she released a breathless laugh.

“Only you. Can you dry clean a floor?” Her own question made her dissolve all over again.

I glanced down and shut my eyes. “So, guess neither one of us is going to work today.”

“I have a dryer. And a shower. And a steamer, although I’m not sure how it does with certain potent fluids…”

Rising, I shed the rest of my clothes and quickly tried to clean up the mess. Then I captured her mouth with mine and swallowed her laughter until neither of us were feeling amused anymore.

She ran her fingernails lightly over my chest down to my stomach before diverting lower to where my dick was already rousing to participate. She scraped her thumb nail gently up the underside and I hissed out a breath. “Now where were we…?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. You fell, you have to be sore, you—”

“I really, really want your cock.”

As if I’d ever say no to that.

“Ask and you shall receive.” I glanced around, bitterly disappointed a King-sized bed hadn’t materialized since the last time I’d looked.

Luckily, my woman was far more able to think on her feet than I was and rooted through the remaining fabric pieces in the basket to find a large one to drape on the hastily cleaned floor. Bonus points, it had some kind of fleecy liner that added at least a millimeter of padding.

But love was pain, right?

She nuzzled my jaw and pointed toward the carpet. “I’ll get on top.”

“Oh, hell, yes, you will.” I couldn’t lay down fast enough.

I’d probably have to buy her new carpet depending on the quality of her rug cleaner. Ah, fuck it, it had been worth it. So, so worth it. I’d redo her whole damn apartment if necessary.

She crouched over me, leaning forward so her locket necklace dangled free over the lace that still partially hid her full breasts from my view. I fumbled behind her, shoving off her sweater and going to work on the intricate hooks and loops that had me swearing. She laughed and fumbled with me, angling forward so that the moment the hooks gave way, one of her tits dangled right into my mouth.

I bit down on her flushed nipple, forgetting to check myself, and the sound she made was pure unadulterated pleasure. I sucked on it even harder, reaching up to fist a handful of her wet silky hair. Her eyes widened, going unfocused as she tilted her hips to rub her pussy against my bare cock. We panted and writhed together, arching against each other without thought. I couldn’t stop myself from thrusting into her. On a wild cry, she enveloped my length, sinking down until I couldn’t go any deeper.

Until we were locked together. Hot, wet, indescribably right.

Some alarm bell clanged in the back of my brain. Since I was currently drawing her breast between my lips and surging into her hard enough to possibly snap her vertebrae, I didn’t much care. Did not even give one flying fuck if that alarm bell meant the police were about to mow down the door and arrest me for being stupid and horny and in love with this woman I was only beginning to know.

Apparently, she wasn’t any more concerned, because she braced her hands on either side of me on the carpet, her hips bucking against mine with such intensity that I knew she’d hurt later.

Outside and in.

I reached down to grab a handful of her ass, careful to avoid her more bruised side, squeezing her so rhythmically that with every flex of my hand, she jerked up and down my dick. Such dirty sounds. Delicious. The smell of sex was thick and ripe in the humid air, and I had to pull my mouth off her breast to arch higher to suck on her throat. Leaving marks wherever I could.

“Better invest in turtlenecks,” I managed to get out against her skin a second before she rolled her pussy down my length with such wet suction that I had no choice but to drive up to the hilt inside her again.

I was going to come. There wasn’t time to warn her, and if I’d been capable of dragging free of the sweet heat of her body, I wouldn’t have.

Couldn’t.

She let out a keening cry and then I was falling with her, except it was more like soaring as I jerked upward and spilled myself inside her. Endlessly. I couldn’t stop the wild heaves of my hips as I drained into her and she held on, gasping as the sensations rocketed from my body into hers. She coiled her arms around my neck, kissing me with a lifetime’s worth of passion as I anchored her in my embrace.

Never letting go. No matter what.

“Mine.” I knew I said it. Knew I groaned it again and again while that fierce urge to claim my mate reared up inside me.

Of course she was mine. How could she be anything but?

She framed my face in her trembling hands, kissing me so gently while sweat dripped into my eyes. “This is crazy. You know this is crazy.” But when she eased back, tears starred her lashes. “But God, it feels like you’re mine too.”

I reached up to grab her hand and pulled it to my chest. “I am. I swear it. I—” I swallowed as spots encroached at the edges of my vision and my skin went from flushed to clammy in an instant.

God, not now. Not here.

I shut my eyes as tightly as I could, breathing through my nose as I’d been taught to do. Inhale for a count of four. Hold for a count of eight. Exhale for a count of—

“Fuck, sweetheart, get up. Please. I’m sorry.” Words tumbled out of my mouth that I couldn’t quite identify. They were lost in the haze of panic blurring my vision. I couldn’t get my breath, but I was aware of her scrambling up and off me, her face a pale mask of fear.

Guilt locked chains around my throat. I was scaring her. Here, when I’d been so determined to make her understand she could count on me, that she could trust me, that I’d wait her out and not pressure her.

Now I was losing it in front of her, helpless to do anything more than scoot across the rug and lean against the side of one of the tables while I hauled in deep breaths.

Not enough. Not enough. My heart was a locomotive, vibrating through my body. On the verge of pounding through my flesh and bones and through my skin.

“What is it? Bishop, what do you need? Are you okay?”

Cool hands flattened themselves to my cheeks, making me open my eyes. I focused on hers, shocked to see the same level of concern in her watery hazel depths that I’d seen in Preston’s the other day.

Was it possible?

“Water? A cold cloth? Should I call 9-1-1—”

“No. No. Just—come here.” I pressed my damp face into her neck, inhaling her vanilla scent as if it was as vital as the oxygen stuttering in my lungs. And I held on to her with everything I had. “Say my name. Just keep saying it. Don’t stop.”

She did as I asked, over and over. And in her fright and determination and urgency, I heard so much more in her tone than she could ever say.

She’d walked away from me once, but she wouldn’t leave me again.

I understood that down to the marrow.

Hearing my name in her husky voice, pitching higher the longer I went without saying anything as she rocked me, stroking my hair, brought me back to myself. I don’t know how long it took. It seemed like a lifetime. But when I eased back to gaze up at her, her ruddy cheeks were soaked with tears.

“I’m okay.” I cupped the back of her head and drew her down to my shoulder, cradling her in my lap. She was all arms and legs, but we made it work.

I couldn’t have let her go right then if they’d used the jaws of life to separate us.

“Are you sure? You were shaking so hard—”

I closed my eyes and forced out the words as my racing heart returned. Not as badly. I could say this. I had to. She deserved the truth. “I get panic attacks. That’s what you just saw—just felt.” I swallowed hard. “It’s so fucking humiliating. I can’t control them. They control me. And I don’t know when they’ll strike. Can be during times of high stress, but it’s usually just…afterward.” I made myself slow down and breathe. Last thing I wanted to do was to roll right into another one. “Sometimes it happens during pleasure too. Excitement. My nervous system doesn’t always know the fucking difference.”

She lifted her head, her eyes filling silently.

“So, you know, I get if this is too much for you, or too awkward or too—”

“Do you get if I want to punch you in the head?” Instead of that particular violent act, she thumped me in the stomach. “You big silly oaf.”

Relief flowed through my tensed muscles for the umpteenth time that day. My back and shoulders ached with the effort it had taken just to breathe. “It’s a lot. I don’t want you to think I’m saddling you with it. No dick is worth…this.”

“You’re underestimating your own penis.”

“Not really. Right this second, I can’t see why else you’re still here.” I lifted my head and managed to smile. “Well, never mind. Forgot this is your house.”

“I’m right where I want to be. And you’re right where I want you to be.” She brushed her fingers through my hair and tenderly kissed my forehead. “Do you think I’d ever doubt for one second how strong you are after watching you fight through that to come back to me?”

The sting in my eyes shamed me more than all the rest. But I didn’t duck my head or hide away even though I wanted nothing other than to make a quip or lure her into the shower so I didn’t have to reveal these jagged, broken parts of myself.

I was starting to figure out how to take care of someone. God knows I was no expert and had bungled it a million times. Would bungle it a million more. But I was still trying.

I just had no earthly clue how to let someone be there for me. Especially someone who could shatter my heart so easily and didn’t even know it.

At least I hoped she didn’t know it. And that probably proved how far I had to go.

“Do you like grilled cheese?” she asked hesitantly, running her fingers over my chest. Tangling them in the hair there. Helping me to stay connected to her voice, her touch, her smells.

“Love it. With tomato soup?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Not in my house growing up. My mom used to make the best—” I stopped and rolled my shoulders as they tightened up. “Sorry, sore subject.”

“I can handle your mom making better soup than me. Although Campbell’s is a tried and true formula.”

I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “If you make it, it’s my instant favorite.” I kissed her softly, holding her in place while our gazes met. “Thank you. You made it so much better.”

“I’m glad.” She cupped her hand over mine. “Maybe over my award winning soup, you can tell me a little more about it? I want to understand.” When I sucked in a breath, she batted her lashes. “Or you can just repay me for my grand culinary skills with some of your own particular talents afterward. If you’re up to it.”

A quick glance down at my lap made me smirk. “Pretty sure I could get up for you any damn time you please.” I kissed the divot in her lower lip. “April.”

She released a long, slow breath. “Can you say my name again? Just another thousand more times or so should suffice.”

“April.” I kissed the corner of her lips before repeating it on the other side. “April mine.”