My Boss’s Secret by Taryn Quinn

Seven

For the firsttime in my life, I fell asleep in a man’s arms.

I was a notoriously restless sleeper. I’d tried all manner of things. Melatonin, vitamins, excessive exercise. Some of the time, wearing myself out from physical projects at home did the trick.

Then I’d discovered the joys of endless orgasms. I was usually a one and done girl, if even that. My previous partners had been scattershot at best at making sure I was satisfied.

No one compared to him. He took the pursuit of my climaxes like claiming new territory in a foreign land. He knew I wasn’t like him with a little black book a mile wide, and he seemed determined to ruin me for all other men.

And now he’d done something even more unforgivable—he’d worn me out so thoroughly that I’d fallen asleep coiled around him just like I did with my boyfriend pillow at home.

Worse, because I’d never awakened aroused and practically humping said pillow.

Luckily, he’d seemed just fine with me eagerly rubbing against him in the middle of the night. He hadn’t even sounded sleepy.

“That’s it. Use me how you need. Take exactly what you want, Cinderella.”

That name in his low, sexy timbre did crazy things to me, and I hadn’t even had to do much before I was coming against his cock. That illicit hard, bare flesh pressed to my clit aroused me unbearably.

We’d gone to sleep nude, and that was new too. All of this was so unexpected and overwhelming and wonderful.

He hadn’t tried to get some relief for himself. He’d just turned me so he was spooning me from behind and buried his face in my hair, banding his arm securely around my waist as if he was afraid I’d evaporate before morning.

I slept better than I ever had before. Or probably ever would again.

The next morning, I sent my grandmother a text without reading hers first. I knew she wouldn’t be up yet—she wasn’t an early riser like me—but I didn’t want her to worry.

She probably already was, due to my sudden pressing need for multiple Os.

Horny cow.

But I didn’t want to go back to the real world just yet, so a message would have to do for now.

My fantasy was slipping away, no matter how hard I clung to it. And to him.

Hi, sorry I haven’t been in touch. Everything is fine. Better than fine. It’s nothing serious. Just fun. I hope you had a good time with PedroPablo. Love you.

I’d barely sent the text before she replied.

Bunny! Thank God. I was about to contact the authorities to report you’d been lured into sex trafficking.

I’d been lured into sex, that was for certain.

I smothered my laugh against my arm to not wake up the man finally sleeping behind me. He hadn’t seemed restless last night, but every time I woke to go to the bathroom, I had the sense he was awake.

Maybe we were more alike than I’d realized. I’d have to try harder to wear him out today.

I was running out of time, and I wanted him to have at least one good night’s rest while we were together. Especially now that I knew he had a doctor, and it sounded like for more than occasional physicals.

A surge of protectiveness rose up inside me. Maybe we shouldn’t be having so much sex?

God, there was a statement I’d never thought I would make, even in my own head.

No trafficking, Grams.

Just sex though?

I sent back a winking smile.

I don’t wonder with that pretty face. He’s the kind of guy a woman can’t walk away from.

He’s also the kind of guy it’s dangerous to keep.

If I even could.

Sure, he was interested now when it was all frantic and romantic with hot tubs and moonlight and crashing waves on the beach. What would happen when we resumed our normal lives? Sex would become routine and sporadic. And some other mystery woman would catch his obviously wandering eye…

Better to walk away with an unforgettable memory that reality couldn’t shatter. I knew that better than anyone.

Is he stepping out on someone?

I didn’t answer, because I knew what was coming next. I wanted to shut off my phone before it could, but I knew.

Something that starts that way can never end well. You know that.

Oh, I knew. Hot, shameful tears burned my eyes so I typed quickly while I tried to blink them away.

How are things with Pedro Pablo?

Who? Oh, him. He stood me up at dinner.

Uh-oh. So, my grandmother had been alone for a day and a half? I sent back a hasty response.

God, no. What a jerk. I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry. I met someone else. Roger asked me to island jump with him.

Who the heck was that? My grandmother had a more active social life than anyone I knew.

Well, she did now. While I was growing up, she hadn’t dated. She’d put all her time and effort into raising me after my grandfather died. My parents had made flaking out an art form. Eventually, the two-hour visits to her cute little bungalow had stretched to four then six. Then they had become overnights.

Then one day when I was nine, my parents simply hadn’t returned at all.

I’d never forget waiting for them all night, staring out the window. Sure, they were just out having fun, but they’d be back. They always came back.

Except they hadn’t, and my grandmother had put her life on hold to care for an overly curious, hyperactive kid with separation anxiety.

I’d do anything for my Grams, including being there to support her if she wanted to have the time of her life. She’d earned every minute.

Even if it scared the hell out of me that she might get hurt.

I took a deep breath and quickly replied.

What is island jumping?

He wants us to explore and for me to extend my stay. With you already occupied, I decided to move my ticket out a week. I can do the same for you if you want? Will Codger flip his tie?

Hope flared inside me and was ruthlessly squelched. First of all, there was no way in hell Preston would be open to me staying away for another week, no matter how big a souvenir I brought him.

Briefly, I debated sending him a box full of his favorite Colombian caramel coconut coffee to sweeten the deal, but even that wouldn’t be enough.

Then there was my bestie. Surely Ryan wouldn’t want to work longer for him. She might’ve already quit.

Though it was strange she hadn’t texted to vent. Maybe that was the story Luna had referred to?

Nah. Ry and Preston went together like fried chicken and pickles. They probably hadn’t spoken to each other after the first day.

I frowned and responded to my grandmother.

Do fried chicken & pickles go together? They seem like they wouldn’t. But I don’t like pickles so I’ve never tried to eat them w/chicken.

Are you hungover, Bunny?

I had to swallow a laugh. I was more than a little sex-drunk but definitely not hungover. I’d had a couple of glasses of champagne the night before, but I’d eaten plenty and it had been over a matter of hours. And he’d made sure I alternated with water so I didn’t get dehydrated.

I sneaked a peek over my shoulder. He really was the sweetest—

Where the heck had he gone?

Earlier, I’d awakened and taken a quickie shower—focused on actual cleansing since our other showers had been more about creative uses for the spray—before I returned to bed. The bedding had been bundled up on his side enough that I’d assumed he was under there. Sort of strange for a dude to cover up so much, but he kept the place a literal icebox.

At least that was the excuse I gave myself for my constant headlight situation.

But nope, at some point, he’d just…vanished.

I rolled out of bed and put on my robe, then I shoved my feet into the positively decadent slippers he’d bought me and wandered out onto the deck. I probably should talk to him about the whole spoiling situation. Despite the gorgeous red dress he’d gotten me, I wasn’t with him for his money, even if he obviously had plenty to spare.

Fantasy aside, he was the reason I would never forget these days together. The trappings were nice, but they didn’t matter without him. He made me laugh and crave him and enjoy every moment. I’d found out more about myself on this trip than I’d ever managed to on my own.

And I didn’t know his name. Didn’t know exactly what he did for a living or where he lived or what his astrological sign was.

Jeez, this channeling Lu and Ry thing was definitely working if I wanted to figure out his astrological chart. Compatibility mattered.

Then again, we knew we were compatible, at least in bed. And that was exactly why we weren’t going to push our luck with anything more than a fling.

Why risk ruining perfection? Even if that excuse was seeming more like a cop-out every time I repeated it to myself.

Another text came through.

Bunny? Are you off using all the red condoms?

I giggled despite myself. Red had been my favorite color since I was a little girl, although I had definitely developed an appreciation for green. Wonder why.

No. I’m not hungover or…busy. I’m actually looking for my guy. He seems to have disappeared.

Even as I typed those words, I didn’t tense up. The April I’d been before Fiji would’ve been scared of that very thing. Kit-Kat and I both had uncharitable thoughts toward guys, though I tried to shove down mine. They couldn’t help being fickle. Besides, I was hardly a supermodel so I couldn’t be shocked if—

And I was officially not thinking that way anymore.

But he wasn’t the sort to disappear without a warning. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did. Maybe it was because he seemed to notice my feelings about the smallest things. He paid attention. But he also didn’t seem like a man to invest time or money if he hadn’t already taken time to calculate the value.

Oh, look at who’s big shit now? Of course he wouldn’t run out on you and your French manicured toes and waxed hoo-ha.

He hadn’t assisted with the waxed hoo-ha, though he’d offered to pay for that too if I wanted a touch-up. Since I wasn’t doing that again one millisecond before I had to, I’d declined.

I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Have to say he looks familiar. I must be imagining things. He’s so handsome. He reminds me of one of those demon hunting boys on TV. Or is it vampires I’m thinking of?

She sent a string of vampire emojis while I grinned and shook my head.

But ice skated between my shoulder blades. My grandmother never forgot a face. She didn’t have an eidetic memory, but I swore she had the next best thing. Hers was far better than my own.

Could my mystery man be someone famous?

I squinted into the bright sunshine and moved to the deck railing to look up and down the white sand beach. Nearby, a couple from a neighboring bure was playing volleyball over a net they’d set up in the sand. The woman noticed me outside and waved, calling out a hello. Her husband did the same.

People were so nice here. Welcoming. Or maybe I was the different one. Could my happiness be palpable enough to draw people toward me instead of away? When I was home, I normally had no trouble keeping my distance. No one seemed to notice me much in any case.

You’re not home right now. And you’re different now to boot.

I called back my own hello, then threw back my shoulders and marched inside to grab my sunglasses. Also courtesy of my hot as hell lover, who was entirely too generous.

I slipped them on and decided to swap my robe for the long swingy pink sundress Mr. Richie Rich had selected for me. Yet again, it had a high-end designer label, and yet again, it fit perfectly. The summery material swished around my calves just the way I liked and spun out around me as I tested it with a twirl.

He had an uncanny way of knowing what I would look good in. Better even than I did. I should probably be affronted about that too, maybe even insist I liked my own clothes just fine, but my clothes were often bought because of their modesty or their sale price. I never really chose pieces I loved.

I loved this sundress. And when I looked at myself in the mirror on the back of the closet door, I loved my smile.

Most of all, I loved this feeling inside me. Excitement. Pleasure. Hope.

I walked back outside, closing my eyes as the breeze off the water lifted my hair and it settled again around my shoulders. Every part of me seemed brutally aware and responsive. It was as if I’d been sleepwalking all this time, and now I was finally awake.

Sexually and otherwise.

When I couldn’t stall anymore, I replied to my grandmother.

I don’t know who my guy looks like other than himself. He’s just so amazingly himself.

She wasted no time responding.

And if those aren’t the words of love…