Page 66 of Never Bargain with the Boss
A laughing snort escapes her nose. “Holy shit, Cameron. I didn’t think you’d even know that term. And no, that’s not what I want either.”
I laugh, just a tiny huff of amusement and relief. “I’ve had other nannies…ahem, offer.” Riley gawks at me, her jaw fallen open and eyes wide, and I laugh more fully then. “What? Is that so shocking?”
Shaking her head, she says, “No, not shocking at all, honestly.” Her eyes lick down my body, her desire boldly written on her face. “What do you want, then? Just tonight?”
It’s a loaded question. For anyone else, they’d be asking ‘what are we’ as some sort of ‘we need to define our relationship’ checklist. For Riley, it’s different. I think she’d say she’s taking life as it comes, enjoying the one thing in front of her—me—while she can. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, torturing myself in the process, and it goes deeper than that. She lives in the moment, choosing to only focus on the present, not because she doesn’t believe she won’t get a future, but because she doesn’t think she deserves one.
I can change that.
I can’t promise forever. I learned that doesn’t really exist, and even if it did, I’m too broken for pretty words like that. But I can promise something else to Riley…
I take a step, closing the gap. “I want to be the reason you smile.” Another step. “I want to be the answer when someone asks why you’re happy.” Right in front of her, I push her hair behind her ear and whisper into the space beside the delicate shell, “I want to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else, because you, Riley Stefano, deserve the best this life has to offer.”
A shudder works its way through her entire body.
I lift her chin, bringing her eyes to mine so she hears me. “I am sure.”
The smile that lights across her face is one I think I’ll remember for the rest of my life. It’s pure in a way, unfettered by hopeful innocence but filled with surprise. I almost hate to ruin it, but I do by pressing my lips to hers.
I can feel her happiness, taste her joy, and I want more of both.
Urgency builds between us quickly, the prolonged denial of what we’ve both wanted washing through us, and she lifts to her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck. “There’s no rush,” I tell her between kisses, my voice rough with my own desire as I try to slow us both down. “I intend to take my time, worshiping you the way I’ve dreamed of every fucking day.”
“You dream about me?” There’s a playfulness in her grin that drives me wild.
“You know I do,” I growl, the reminder of how I touched her in my sleep echoing between us. “I dream about bending you over this counter, my hand in your hair as your pussy takes me so good. I dream about spreading you out on the couch upstairs and licking you until you scream. I dream about that mouth of yours wrapped around my cock. Yeah, Riley, you’re all I fucking dream about lately.”
A blush rises on her cheeks with every filthy word I utter, but she doesn’t seem offended. No, she’s excited. “Yes. Yes, to all of that.” She nods vigorously, pointing a blue-tipped finger at my mouth just in case I didn’t know what she meant.
With a glint in my eye, I press a kiss to the pad of her pointing finger and then order, “Turn around.”
She turns in place, folding herself forward over the counter to lay her cheek to the cold surface exactly the way I described. I groan at the vision before me—her profile as she looks back at me, the length of her spine, her hips rounded and stretching the ivory satin of her dress, and her ass begging to be grabbed. I trace my hands down her back, zigzagging here and there,delighting in simply touching her. “There’s a part of me that wants to shove this dress up and take you savagely.”
“Do it,” she whispers.
“There’s another part that doesn’t want to ruin this dress. It’s stunning on you.”
“This old thing?” she replies. And though she probably did buy it at a thrift store and tailor it to herself, the tease isn’t in her question. She’s too desperate for more to waste time joking now.
I carefully slide the zipper down, reveling in each exposed inch of her creamy flesh. When the zipper stops at her waist, she lifts to push the sleeves down and off, then wiggles the dress over her hips, stepping out of it with surprising grace. Standing before me in nothing more than white silky panties and her stacks of jewelry, she meets my gaze confidently, letting me absorb her.
“Riley,” I whisper reverently.
I draw a fingertip over her collarbone, dragging it down her sternum, working my way around her necklaces and between her small breasts. Her nipples are hard and a brighter shade of pink than I’d imagined. They’re perfect, and every fantasy I’ve had is instantly rewritten with the reality of her. Her hips flare out, begging for my hands, but I detour over a scar on her lower belly.
“Appendectomy when I was eleven,” she explains to my lifted eyebrow. “I got to stay in the hospital overnight, and the nurse snuck me a chocolate pudding and watchedWheel of Fortunereruns with me on her break.”
“Where were your—” I pause, ‘parents’ on the tip of my tongue, and quickly correct, “foster parents?” I can’t imagine anyone leaving a scared eleven-year-old child alone in the hospital after a major surgery.
Riley shrugs. “I don’t remember who I was living with then. The Johnsons?” She screws up her face, thinking. “Maybe theBaldwins? Who knows.” At the return of my previously constant frown, she swipes her thumb over my lips. “It’s okay. I survived. And the pudding is a good memory.”
I bend down, placing a gentle kiss over the faded scar, apologizing for not being there for Riley at the time, even though it makes no sense. She was a child… I was in grad school. But even that reminder of our age difference doesn’t scare me anymore. How could it? Riley has lived so much more life than the mere sum of her years on Earth. In some ways, she’s more mature than I am despite the chronological years I have on her.
“I’ll get you all the pudding you can eat,” I vow. I continue with a path of kisses, laying one after the other across her belly, getting progressively lower as her hands press heavily on my shoulders, encouraging me toward her center, where she wants me. It’s where I want to be too.
I slip my fingers into her panties and slowly drag them down her legs as I sink to my knees for her. When she steps out of them, I stop, taking in how she’s fully bare before me. Oh, she’s still wearing her jewelry, but it’s almost a part of her and I can’t imagine her without it. I’ve certainly imagined it every time I’ve dreamed about this… the musical jangle of her bracelets as she strokes me, the messy tangle of her necklaces as she writhes in ecstasy.
Her pink, puffy lips lay before me. I inhale her sweetness and tease the backs of my fingers over her softness. She moans, so responsive to even the slightest touch. “Jesus,” I groan, more of a curse than a prayer. Running my hands down her calves, I urge her to step her feet apart.