Bad Boss, page 4
‘ID?’ For a second I had no idea what he was talking about.
‘You have no security in this building.’ He sounded appalled. ‘I could be anyone pressing this button.’
The offence in his voice made something tense inside me relax. It was such a Ulysses thing to say.
‘I know it’s you.’ I smiled a little. ‘I recognise your voice.’
‘Someone could have made their voice sound like me. There’s some very sophisticated software out there these days.’
‘Ulysses—’
‘I’ll make a note to get Everett onto it. You can’t be buzzing anyone up to your flat. In fact...’ He sounded as though he was leaning away from the speaker and looking around. ‘This whole building is an utter disgrace security-wise. It’s not good enough, Morgan.’ He sounded louder this time and three thousand times more offended. ‘You need to find somewhere safer.’
‘Since when have you ever been interested in the security of my flat?’
‘Since now,’ he snapped. ‘Are you going to buzz me up?’
‘I didn’t actually agree, you know,’ I reminded him, deciding he needed to have this pointed out. ‘I never said yes.’
‘Well, do you say yes now?’ he asked grumpily.
Amusement soothed my jangling nerves; he did so hate it when he’d made a mistake.
‘What would you do if I didn’t?’ Teasing him was wrong, since he didn’t like it. But I couldn’t help myself.
‘I’d go back to the office, of course.’ He sounded really annoyed now. ‘Stop wasting time, Morgan.’
I was wasting time. And putting off the moment when I said yes. Because I knew, as soon as I let him up into my flat, that would be it. My path would be chosen and there’d be no going back.
But I was already sick of myself and my nerves, so I reached out and hit the button that opened the downstairs door.
And that was when it struck me: I was standing there waiting for him dressed in a pair of my oldest and most comfortable pyjama bottoms, a very baggy and very thin T-shirt, my hair loose and no make-up whatsoever.
Super-sexy.
I debated making a run to the bedroom and finding some decent jeans, or something to wear instead of my PJs, but I hadn’t taken more than a step in that direction before the sound of knocking came from my front door.
Ulysses was already here.
Bugger it.
I took a breath then strode over to the front door and opened it.
And there he was, larger than life and twice as gorgeous, unbearably hot in the dark suit and crisp white shirt he’d been wearing earlier. He had on a red tie today and the splash of colour glowed jewel-bright against the white.
Red for passion, an inane part of my brain whispered to me as his dark gaze collided with mine.
‘There you are.’ His cold voice held a hot note I’d never heard him use before.
Then, before I could say another word, he strode in.
He didn’t pause to look around. He didn’t look around at all. He simply came for me as if I were a prize he’d been waiting for years to claim.
A hot thrill arrowed straight down my spine, a secret part of me finding his intensity unbearably exciting.
He came to a stop bare inches away, tall, dark and utterly compelling. ‘First,’ he said without preamble, ‘We need to discuss the rules.’
My brain had gone into free fall. He was so close, making me very aware of his height, reminding me of that kiss and the heat of his mouth. The clean, fresh bite of his aftershave wove around me, a sharp piny smell that made me think of forests freshly dusted with snow.
‘Rules?’ I echoed blankly. ‘What rules?’
‘It’s very important that we have ground rules and that we both agree on them.’ He frowned slightly. ‘Traffic lights.’
‘Traffic lights? What are you talking about?’
‘Green for “go”. Amber for “keep going but carefully”. Red for “stop”.’
‘I don’t...’
‘Sex,’ he explained. ‘If you don’t like something, say red and I’ll stop. Green for go. Amber for—’
‘Keep going but carefully. Yes, I get it.’ I swallowed, my face getting hot. ‘So we’re getting into it straight away? You don’t want a drink or something first?’
He gave me a look as if it was the strangest question he’d ever heard. ‘No, why would I?’
‘Some girls like a little romance, you know,’ I said tartly, nervous, but annoyed with myself for being nervous.
‘I don’t do romance, Morgan.’
Instantly, I felt bad, because something in his face shut down. Something that had been bright and hot, that I hadn’t realised was there until it had vanished.
Normally he wouldn’t let one of my snarky comments bother him, but he was clearly bothered now. And that told me something: he wanted this. He wanted me.
And I wanted him to want me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I don’t need romance. I’m just...nervous.’
He regarded me, his black eyes cool. ‘Is that a red?’
‘No.’ I made it as certain as I could. ‘It’s not.’
‘If it’s a red, you need to be clear.’
Of course. If this was a big deal for me, then it was also a big deal for him. He couldn’t read cues easily, which made his need for rules understandable.
‘If it’s a red, you’ll stop,’ I said, less of a question and more a statement of fact.
‘Of course I’ll stop. That’s the whole point of rules. Everyone follows them.’
Which makes him the safest man you’ll ever be with.
The flash of realisation made me blink. Yes, he was safe. He’d never hurt me any way, and his emphasis on rules only cemented that fact.
Where would I find another man safe enough with whom to explore those rough sex fantasies of mine? A man I trusted enough to take care of me? Perhaps I’d never find one. Perhaps I’d never be able to explore the darker corners of my imagination, the forbidden desires I tried never to think about. The ones I barely admitted I wanted even to myself...
It’s him. Or no one.
I shuddered as the truth settled down inside me. And he saw, his black gaze piercing, the bright, hot thing I’d noticed in his eyes before igniting once again.
He took a step closer, now only inches away.
I caught my breath, his physical nearness hitting me like a blow. His height and the broad width of his chest were things I’d never consciously thought of before, but I was thinking about them now. And the heat of his body, warm stone on a hot summer’s day. He’d feel like that too. I knew it. If I put my hand on his chest, it would feel exactly like stone. Unyielding. I wouldn’t be able to push him away even if I wanted to.
He must have read my thoughts, I swear, because he took my hand, lifting it to his chest palm-down and holding it there.
Hot. He was so hot. I could feel that heat through the cotton of his business shirt. And so hard, too. I’d got that right. Exactly like warm stone.
My heartbeat was so loud I couldn’t hear anything else and I felt dizzy.
His gaze on me was an intense pressure. But I couldn’t meet it. Something would happen to me if I did, and I didn’t know what that something would be. I was afraid of it.
He didn’t say anything, only held my hand to his chest, his palm warm on my skin. Then his other hand was on my hip, sliding round to the small of my back, urging me closer, and my heartbeat got even faster. I tried to stand my ground, but he didn’t let me, his strength irresistible, drawing me relentlessly up against him.
I quivered with excitement at that strength, at being pulled to him, even though I tried to resist.
‘Look at me,’ he ordered, a hot, dark note vibrating in his voice. ‘Look at me, Morgan.’
I didn’t want to, afraid of how excited I was. Of how much this whole thing was turning me on.
But then I’d always been afraid of those desires inside me, the ones that made me desperate to be held by a strong man, to fight to get away and yet not be able to. To have him hold me effortlessly and easily and to be overwhelmed by him...
I didn’t want to know why I wanted those things. I didn’t want to know what it was about me that liked it.
You didn’t want life to pass you by. So don’t let it.
That was true. And I wasn’t a coward. I’d endured the fancy boarding school Damian had sent me to, then endured being sent halfway across the world to a city I’d never been to, to do a job I didn’t know anything about, working for a man I’d never met.
And now here was an opportunity to explore something about myself that I’d never had the chance to before. With a man who wouldn’t judge me and who’d keep me safe. Why was I even hesitating?
I lifted my chin and met Ulysses’s gaze.
Blacker than pitch. The kind of black that had weight and heat. Heavy, dense. But not cold. No, not cold any longer.
Still looking down at me, he took one hand in his, then the other one that was resting on his chest, and then, with that same relentless, irresistible strength, he drew them behind my back and held them there, restraining me with pathetic ease.
And he watched me the whole time as my heartbeat accelerated through the roof.
CHAPTER SIX
Ulysses
SHE LIKED IT. I could see that by the flush in her cheeks and by how her blue eyes darkened, her pupils dilating. She was breathing fast as well, soft, breathy little pants.
All of that could have been fear, but it wasn’t. I’d seen enough arousal in enough women to know the difference. I might have trouble reading people’s expressions, but physiology didn’t lie. I knew. I’d studied it. I’d made it my mission to overcome my own vulnerabilities, especially when it came to women.
And I’d had no complaints.
Besides, I knew Morgan very well. I’d been working with her for years and hers was a face I was familiar with.
Also, I’d told her the rules. She knew ‘red’ meant stop.
But what if she doesn’t say it?
A thread of something I didn’t like wound through me. I ignored it. Of course she’d say it. She knew how important rules were to me.
Still, I studied her carefully. She felt very good against me, very warm, very soft. It was interesting to see her like this, to see her flushed and breathing fast, obviously physically aroused.
At work she was always professional, always capable and confident. In fact, now I thought about it, I’d never seen her less than confident, which irritated me on occasion. She knew things about people I didn’t and I didn’t like not knowing. Being at a disadvantage infuriated me, made me feel the way I had when I’d been ten and Uncle John used to take me into the casinos, using my talents with patterns for his own ends. I hadn’t understood about greed then. I’d thought it was because he liked me, one of the few foster parents who had.
But he hadn’t liked me. He’d only used me. Trusting him had been a mistake and one I wouldn’t repeat. I hadn’t trusted a soul since, not until I’d met Damian and Everett.
Not until Morgan.
Maybe. Certainly I trusted her when it came to dealing with other people. Yet it was also good to have her at a disadvantage now. She might know how to deal with people, but she didn’t know so much about sexual desire—that was clear.
But I did.
‘You like this?’ I kept a firm hold on her wrists, making sure her soft, warm body was pressed to mine. ‘You like me restraining you?’
Her throat moved as she swallowed. A sign of nervousness. Yet this time her gaze didn’t flicker. ‘Y-yes.’
Satisfaction wound through me. Of course, I was right. She did like it. ‘So are we green?’ I asked, just to make sure.
‘I...’ She stopped and took another of those little breaths. ‘Yes, green.’
I held her tighter, my fingers on the underside of her wrists monitoring her pulse. It fluttered, fast and frantic, against my fingertips. Her pupils dilated even further and her body relaxed against mine, her sweet jasmine scent turning musky with arousal.
Indeed, everything was green. Good.
Slowly, I began to walk her backwards.
I’d had a few plans of what I wanted to do with her tonight, thinking about them as I’d made my way to her flat. Her terrible security had irritated me, making me second-guess my initial thoughts, and then she’d been uncertain about opening the door.
But she had and I couldn’t deny that, the moment I’d stepped into her flat and seen her standing there not looking like Morgan Blackwood, my PA, but someone I’d never seen before, I knew.
My initial plans, based on the kiss I’d given her, were the correct ones. And not only for her, but for me as well.
I’d liked the way she’d been looking at me, as if I was as much a stranger to her as the woman in dinosaur pyjamas rather than a pencil skirt was to me. And I liked it because I knew I irritated her, made her impatient. That sometimes, in those social situations I hated attending, she’d look at me with the same impatience that Uncle John had used to.
I didn’t let that bother me with other people; I didn’t care about them. But it was different with Morgan. I didn’t like that irritation.
So to have her now, all wide eyes and a frantic pulse, dilated pupils and a softly open mouth... Yes, it was very, very satisfying.
I kept walking until I’d backed her against the wall of her small lounge. It was covered with cream wallpaper textured with patterns of climbing ivy. I wanted to look at the patterns, because the repeats were clever, but the sound of Morgan’s soft gasp as she hit the wall brought me back to what was happening.
Her. Pressed against me.
A tremor shook her.
I was very hard, but I could ignore my physical needs for long periods of time, and I did so now in favour of watching her face.
‘Tell me what you want,’ I said, making it an order to see how she’d respond. ‘I need to know what you like in order to make this experience the best it can be.’
‘I...’ She faltered. The fast way she was breathing made the soft curves of her breasts press against my chest. I found the sensation exquisite.
‘You...what? You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say?’
She blinked rapidly. The heat between her thighs was very noticeable. I could feel it even through the wool of my suit trousers. ‘I find it difficult to...talk about.’
‘Why? What do you find difficult to talk about? Explain.’
She took another few breaths, as if she was gasping for air, the expression in her blue eyes unreadable to me. ‘I’ve only slept with one man. And when I told him what I liked he...he told me he wouldn’t do those things. That he thought they were wrong.’
That didn’t surprise me. Not the part about only having one lover—I didn’t care how many she’d had—but that she’d been shamed for voicing her desires. People had very strange attitudes when it came to sex.
Myself, I’d found out very early on what I preferred. As soon as I’d earned my first ten thousand pounds from some online investments when I was sixteen, I’d gone to the finest brothel I could find and paid the first prostitute I’d liked the look of to teach me. I’d been lucky; she’d been an older woman, in the business by choice because she enjoyed it. She’d been very patient, teaching me many things about myself, including that I liked rough sex.
Because it was in those moments, when I allowed sexual desire to overwhelm me, that I could almost understand people and how they felt when they were happy. When they were in love. All the good emotions I didn’t understand and never would.
The woman that night had told me I had to be careful with my preferences. That I had to make sure my partner was willing and that there needed to be rules, so it was pleasurable for all. I’d listened to her. I’d also discovered that I liked making women come, so it was important to me that they enjoyed themselves.
Clearly Morgan’s partner hadn’t thought the same. It made me angry to think he hadn’t cared at all about her pleasure.
‘Why didn’t you find someone else?’ I asked.
She’d lowered her lashes, veiling her gaze. ‘Does it matter? It’s no big deal.’
I let go one of her hands and put my fingers under her chin, forcing her head back so I could see her eyes and the expression she was trying to hide from me. ‘It does matter,’ I said. ‘And it is a big deal. I like to make a woman come, which makes knowing what she likes very important.’
Morgan trembled, her eyes darkening. It was clear she very much liked me taking control. ‘He made me feel bad about what I wanted, so I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone else. And the sex we had was kind of dull anyway, and I just thought I couldn’t be missing out on much.’
Anger coiled more tightly inside me at the man who’d judged her so unnecessarily and made her feel bad about what she liked.
‘You are missing out,’ I told her, because it was true. ‘Good sex is a basic human need.’
‘Not one I’ve never needed.’
‘That’s a lie. If you didn’t need it, your pussy wouldn’t be quite so hot and your nipples wouldn’t be hard.’
Her mouth opened then shut, the flush in her cheeks becoming fiery.
‘You like me holding you,’ I went on. ‘You like me taking control. Why won’t you admit it?’
‘Why do you think?’ Her eyes were wide and dark. ‘Because that’s what he thought was so wrong. He didn’t want to hold me down. He didn’t want me to resist. He told me it was wrong, that women shouldn’t like stuff like that in this day and age.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ I snapped. ‘Many women like it. And some men too. Why did you believe him?’
Her throat moved against my palm. ‘I...don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t know that. Because I was unsure. I haven’t done it with anyone else.’
