How to Kill Your Boss (12 page)

He pulled a suitcase from the back of his Toyota with a cocky grin on his face. He shook his head and mumbled something to himself that sounded like, “I’m going to burn in hell for this.” That made no sense. I was sure I heard wrong.

I entered the cabin. For being in the middle of nowhere, its modern amenities and decor surprised me. Stainless steel appliances, an oversized, deep-seated leather couch, matching recliner, flat screen. An ornate stairway led to an open loft that, from my vantage point, fit a queen-sized bed and not much more. There was a frosted glass door beneath the stairs I assumed led to the bathroom. It was small, cozy, and perfect.

Franklin carried our luggage up the stairs and laid it on the bed. He hopped back down and grabbed two grocery bags from outside the door.

I grabbed one of the sacks. “Is that why you left this morning, to stock up for my kidnapping?”

His proud smile made my heart drop to my gut and bounce back up again.

“You packed clothing for me?”

He set a bottle of wine on the counter. “I did. Even shoes. Not that you’ll need them.”

I started to unpack the groceries and nearly choked when I pulled out a box of condoms. “You know, you’ve already gotten into my pants, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble to bag me again.” Oh dear, was this finally going to happen?

He grabbed the carton of Trojans and tossed them on the couch. It bounced off the cushion and landed on the floor. “I’m going to fuck you properly. Out here, there won’t be any distractions.” He sauntered across the room, opened the sliding glass door, retrieved his cell from his back pocket and dropped it outside.

“Wow. You mean business, don’t you? No phones, no stalkers, a year’s supply of condoms. This better be one hell of a romp-fest, buddy, ’cause you’ve piqued my interest.”

Eyebrows raised, he shot a glance at my chest, where two pesky points threatened to rip through the thin cotton. “That’s not all that’s peaked, is it?” He turned to close the door, then prowled my direction.

My cheeks burned hot. My pulse pounded louder than a bass drum through my ears. God, I wanted this man, needed his hands on me, longed to be smothered with his scent.

I wiggled my eyebrows at him, grabbed the hem of my shirt, well, his shirt, and pulled it over my head. I reached back, unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor. Franklin’s eyes widened and he paused, losing his confident demeanor for the briefest moment before pulling me to his chest and crushing his lips against mine. “Not wasting any time, are we?”

I slid my hands around his waist, under his shirt, and caressed his warm skin. “We’ve wasted too much time already.”

Franklin tucked his thumbs into the waistband of my sweats and yanked me against his erection. Holy crap.

“Yeah, love, too much time,” he groaned, then devoured my mouth with a kiss that left no room for doubt of his intentions, and hot damn, they were naughty. His assault on my lips reeked of desperate longing, a primal urge to assure me he was mine. He trembled, then kissed me harder while he tugged my sweats down my hips. I finished the job by wiggling and kicking them off.

Never breaking contact, he guided me to the couch and let go only long enough to get rid of his own clothing. He cupped the back of my head and nudged me down across the cold leather. With his other hand, he cupped my breast, massaged, explored, tugged my nipple then blazed a trail to my sex. He brushed his fingers softly through my tuft of hair, lingering at my opening before pushing two inside me.

“Fuck.” Franklin stopped kissing me but didn’t lift his mouth from mine. “So warm and wet. I’m out of my fucking mind for you right now.” He lowered his head to pull a nipple into his mouth.

I bucked my hips into his hand, arched my breast against his mouth. Ripples of pleasure tore through me, forcing my eyes closed. Franklin reached down and snatched the black box off the floor. He fumbled with the packaging but eventually managed to free a condom from the pouch. My heart beat a hole through my chest as he rolled it on. To watch, while he touched himself, was almost too much for my delicate senses. Oh, God. Why was I so hot? Was the room on fire? He laid over me and pushed a thigh between my legs. His erection bobbed against my skin.

“I need to be in you. God, I’ve waited so fucking long,” he groaned. His thick, husky voice enraptured me.

My vision blurred, pulse raced, thoughts spun. I needed him with an indescribable desperation. I needed him to fill me, dominate and claim me. In that moment, that slow-motion, foggy-brained, lust filled moment in time, nothing mattered but Franklin.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, dug my fingers into his shoulders, and begged him to take me. “Fuck me. I need you, please.” Never, in a million years, would I have envisioned begging a man, especially using those words, but I did. Who was this lust-crazed beast inhabiting my body?

He lifted his head from my chest, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears, which only made me hotter for him. Then he raised his hips, guided his sex through my folds and impaled me in one slow, steady stroke. I cried his name and choked back a sob.

Franklin tensed. He buried his face in my neck and took a deep breath. It burned, the way he filled and stretched me. To be honest, it hurt like hell, and I fought the urge to push him off. Thank God, he didn’t move right away. It was perfect, painful pleasure, but I needed that small space in time to catch my breath and push through the discomfort.

He studied my face, eyes dark with concern. “Am I hurting you?” he asked through labored breaths. “Fuck. You’re so tight, baby.”

I shook my head no, fearing if I spoke, he’d hear the pain in my voice—and I didn’t want him to stop. I never wanted this to stop.

Franklin kissed me softly, then buried his face next to mine in the cushion. Moisture tickled my cheek. I wasn’t sure if it was his tears or my own. He whispered in my ear, “So fucking long. Jesus. You’re finally mine.”

His words didn’t make sense, but penetrated the most guarded parts of me. He raised his hips, withdrew nice and slow, then filled me again. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out. How could something hurt so bad and at the same time feel so perfect, so right?

“Don’t stop. I need you inside me. Fuck me, please,” I pleaded.

He did. He fucked me on the leather couch in the cabin hidden from the world. He rocked his hips gently until I relaxed and started to move with him. He kissed my mouth, my neck, licked my tears. Whispered words that broke my heart over and over. “Beautiful angel. My everything. I don’t deserve you. Saved me. Need you so fucking bad. Never leave. Please. I’ll die without you.”

His thrusts deepened and my body coiled. I dug my fingers into his ass. When he buried his face in my neck and muttered, “I’ve loved you for so long,” I lost my bearings and exploded. The orgasm was excruciating and beautiful, and for a moment, I feared I might die from the flood of emotion swelling inside me. When my insides tightened around him, he lost it, too.

“Fuck, Tate. Fucking hell.” He pumped furiously and I lifted my hips to meet his. His body tensed, arms trembled, breaths blew heated and ragged into my ear. He collapsed on top of me and murmured, “My sweet, beautiful angel.”

* * * *

I woke some time later, wrapped in a layer of naked male and a heavy wool blanket. Awake, Franklin was a sight to behold, but asleep, holy heaven above, the man was downright angelic.

His full lips were slightly parted and still moist. His thick lashes fanned against his cheeks. No stress wrinkles. He appeared so much younger when he slept.

I stretched my neck and kissed him, savoring the softness of his mouth. He smiled, blinked his eyes open and sighed. “It wasn’t a dream.”

Was he for real?

His arm tightened around me, smashing my breasts against his chest. A whole new set of fireworks exploded in my gut.

Franklin let me go, sat up, and wrapped the blanket around me like a burrito. He turned to look at me with a smirk on his face and a smile in his eyes. “Romp-fest, huh?”

I smiled and batted my lashes.

“I’m down with that.” He brushed a finger across my cheek. “Let me start a fire. Gets cold in here at night. You hungry?” He rose off the couch, pulled his jeans on, then tugged his shirt over his head.

Food? I was pretty sure I’d never have to eat again. There wasn’t a thing in the world that would satisfy me the way Franklin did. “No. I’m not hungry. Can I help?”

He shook his head no.

I studied the fine male specimen moving about like a caveman, gathering wood, making fire, grunting from time to time. I could’ve watched him forever. Oh my, his form, his expressions, the way he dominated the room was more than a girl could handle.

“Is this your cabin?” I asked.

He poked at a log then glanced over his shoulder at me. “It’s mine. Do you like it?”

I sat up and pulled the blanket tight around my body. “I do. It reminds me of my dad. He loved to get lost in the mountains. At least twice a year, he’d sneak away to his hunting cabin for a week or so. I was never allowed to go with him. He said hunting wasn’t for girls.”

Franklin turned back toward the fire. He sighed and his shoulders slumped. “You miss your father?”

“Every day,” I whispered. I wanted to tell him how much he reminded me of Dad, but I didn’t.

“You two were close, weren’t you?” With a loud crackle, the fire roared, outlining Franklin’s body with a warm orange glow.

“He was a freakin’ superhero in my eyes. Overprotective as hell, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. How about you? Were you close with your father?” Since we were getting personal and stuff, it seemed a good time to dig.

“No. My dad disappeared when I was young.”

I tried to picture Franklin as a child, but failed. I could only see the virile, protective man who’d stolen my heart. “I’m sorry. Was it hard not having a father?” I cringed after asking the question. There was personal, and there was too damn personal. I feared I’d crossed the line.

Franklin remained silent while he stoked the flames, then rose and came to sit by me. “My mom struggled, didn’t date after my father left. Except for one man. I still remember the first time she brought him home. I was eight, I think. The guy was huge, and I didn’t know how to act around him. But, you know what? He squatted down to my level, made eye contact, held out his hand, and introduced himself. Showed me respect. We were the best of buds after that. He and my mom didn’t work out because she never got over the loss of my dad, but the guy stepped up and took me under his wing, mentored me. I’ve never met a better man.” Franklin’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears. Most men would be ashamed to cry. Franklin held my gaze until the emotion faded.

“I’d like to meet him someday.” I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“He passed away a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

So Franklin and I had something in common. We’d both lost the most important man in our lives. He was lucky. Not many men would step in to help a single mother raise her son, especially an ex-girlfriend.

Franklin’s chest rose and fell. Then he turned, lifted me onto his lap, and pulled the blanket off my naked body. “Let’s get back to that romp-fest, shall we?”

I laughed. “Can we try the bed this time?” I pried myself from his grip, stood, and offered a hand to pull him up.

He traced my body with a hungry gaze, his eyes resting between my thighs for an uncomfortable spell before finding my face. “You’re bleeding.”

Horrified, I looked down. It wasn’t time for my period.

A heated blush spread from my cheeks to my toes. “I told you, I haven’t been with anyone.”

This time, his face reddened. “Haven’t been with anyone
in a long time,
or haven’t
been
with anyone?” he asked, clasping his hands over the top of his head. “You told me you’ve had two sexual experiences.”

Oh crap. We were gonna have
that
conversation. I suppose I should’ve been more honest with him the first time. “What I said was, two sexual experiences with fumbling idiots who didn’t know what they were doing.”

“Meaning?” he asked with an irritated bite to his tone.

“Meaning, I didn’t actually have intercourse, per se.” I’d never felt more exposed in my life. Standing naked in the middle of Amish country with an
I’m no longer a virgin
neon sign flashing over my head would’ve been more bearable.

The cabin was dark, save the glow from the fire. Heat radiated against my backside but didn’t repel the cold. Franklin’s icy glare raked my body again and again. My muscles ached with the restraint it took to keep from running away. What did I do wrong? My sexual past, or lack thereof, should have absolutely no bearing on Franklin’s feelings for me. Right? Shit.

I held my palms up and shrugged my shoulders. “Look who’s speechless now.”

Unblinking, he shook his head.

The firelight danced in his retinas. I snapped my fingers in his face. “You okay?” I asked.

Franklin huffed, pushed himself off the couch, and scooped me over his shoulder as he stood.

“Are you a freaking barbarian? For crying out loud. Put me down.”

He smacked my bare ass. “Let’s shower.”

We squeezed through the tiny bathroom door and he plopped me on the cold tile floor. He shed his clothing and reached around me to turn on the water. I shuddered, not from cold, but the sight of his back as he stretched, the roll of his muscles as he moved. Yum. Yum. Yum.

“Does this place run on a generator?” I asked, realization dawning on me a little too late. I’d turned into a horror movie cliché—naive girl, dark woods, middle of nowhere, a man too good to be true. If that wasn’t a set up for a B-movie murder scene, I didn’t know what was.

He pulled me into the small space and chuckled. “We’re not that far from civilization. It just seems like it because it’s so well hidden. We have electricity.”

Franklin lathered the soap. As if he’d done it a thousand times before, he pressed his hands to my skin and washed me. It was more an exotic massage in a steamy, tiny, tiled room than a shower. He left no part of me untouched, unexplored. When it came time to wash between my legs, the place he saved for last, he knelt, paused for a deep breath, then lightly brushed a finger up and down my labia.