How to Kill Your Boss (13 page)

“Did I hurt you?” he whispered, raising his eyes, but not his face to me. “And don’t lie. Don’t ever lie to me again.”

Gulp.

“It hurt. But it was a good hurt, if that makes sense.”

He continued to stroke me with tender caresses. I slapped my hand against the wall to brace myself. His touch alone nearly brought me to my knees.

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have…” He shook his head. “I can’t take care of you, or protect you if you’re lying or telling me half truths.”

I rubbed my free hand over the top of his head. He closed his eyes and leaned into my palm.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It happened so fast, I didn’t have a second to think about it. And to be fair, this is your fault.”

My knees buckled when he slid a finger inside me.

“My fault?” He grinned.

“If you weren’t so damned overwhelming, I might be able to think straight once in a while.”

He retreated, then pushed inside me again, rubbing and teasing with his gentle touch. Every part of me down there was tender. Franklin never stroked too hard. He worked with such precision, my body prepared for another joining with his. Then his lips latched on to my clit. Franklin didn’t mess around with foreplay. He sucked hard on my nub and curved his finger inside me. My body coiled then exploded in waves of excruciating pleasure. My muscles turned to mush, my bones to wet noodles. My legs trembled and threatened to buckle. Franklin removed his hand from between my thighs and gripped my hip to support me. His lips remained where they were, sucking, pulling, drawing every last quiver from my body.

I grabbed his head. “Stop. Please, stop. It’s too sensitive.”

He let go, kissed my belly on the soft spot above my patch of hair, and stood. With one arm around my shoulders and the other my waist, he pulled me against his slick body and pressed his erection between us.

I lifted my chin to taste his mouth. He kissed me soft and tender, not with the territorial ferocity I’d come to enjoy. Cupping my cheeks with both hands, he held me still and explored my lips, my tongue, my chin, then my nose. He cherished me with kisses that reflected love, not just lust.

I could feel his desire before, but now there was something more. The kind of something that led to a frilly white dress, a little yellow house with a white picket fence, and a party riddled with pastel baby decorations. For the first time in my life, I believed I could be one-half of a ninety-year-old couple helping each other along the sidewalk in super slow motion. I’d have the walker, and Franklin would carry the cane.

I relaxed into him, inhaled his breath, reveled in the flavor and scent that was so innately masculine and powerful.

Then Franklin shocked the shit out of me. He wrapped his arms around my head and neck, pressed my face into his chest and cried. At first, I’d mistaken his spasms for laughter. But no, he sobbed.

I coiled my arms around his waist and tried to breathe. It wasn’t easy with my face smashed between a solid pec and an iron hard forearm. Somehow, I managed to draw oxygen into my lungs. I’d never seen a man cry, nor imagined myself trapped in the arms of a naked man while he wept. But there I was, completely clueless. What was the proper etiquette for such a situation? I squeezed his middle, stroked his back, and waited for the convulsions to stop.

His words from earlier bounced to and fro in my head like a game of Ping-Pong.

God, I’ve waited so fucking long… You’re finally mine… I’ll die without you…

Had he actually said those things? Or had I been so sex crazed that his words jumbled in my head?

The things I know would blow your mind.

I didn’t know this man at all, did I? He could have brought me deep into the mountains to slice me into pieces and roast me with potatoes and a sprig or two of rosemary. Not a single being on earth knew where I was or whom I was with.

Not even me.

Silent and aloof, Franklin turned off the water, dried me, then himself, and led me to bed.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” I asked, irked by the unnerving quiet.

“I want to. Just need to find the right words, okay love?”

Love? That was the third time he’d referred to me as “love.” It pissed me off to no end that it made me feel soft and fuzzy every time—and I’d kept a tally.

I laid my head on his shoulder and twisted my fingers through the tuft of hair on his chest. The silence in the remote location, the place I would likely become a main course to a one-man meal, gnawed at my nerves and fueled my over-stimulated imagination. I concentrated on the loudest noise I could distinguish—Franklin’s heartbeat thumping into my brain, soothing and seductive.

I counted the beats, focused on the rhythm, then fell asleep craving juicy steak, roasted potatoes, and red wine.

Grumpaluffagus and I trekked along the riverbed, slipping and sliding on the wet rocks. Up ahead, Wallace stood knee-high in the brisk current, flicking his fishing rod back and forth above his head.

I scratched behind my buddy’s ear. He nudged me with a massive shoulder and nearly knocked me on my butt.

“See that man?” I asked and pointed up the river.

Grumpy answered with a head shake and a snort.

“I do so despise him. He’s done some terrible, terrible things. Wanna know what the worst part is?” I unhooked the leash from his spike-studded collar. “He thinks he can get away with it because he has money.”

A string of drool dangled above my feet when he growled.

“Now he’s eating your yummy fish.”

Grumpy shook his head and bounced up and down on his mighty front paws, his snout curled in a snarl.

“He’ll be easy to catch, and I bet he tastes every bit as good as those scaly appetizers. Plus, you’ll have some bones to chew when you’ve finished your meal.” I ruffled the fur between his ears. “Now, be a good little teddy bear and eat that bad man.”

I patted the grizzly’s hindquarters, turned, and headed back down the rocky shore. I smiled when I heard a shrill scream, laughed out loud when a shredded pair of waders floated past me.

“Baby?”

A heavy hand shook me back to consciousness. “What’s so funny?”

Wow, that voice. What a way to wake up. I peeled my moist face from his warm skin. “Sorry. I was dreaming.”

“Must’ve been a good one.”

“It was.” One of the best yet.

He trailed a finger up and down the curve of my back. “Tell me.”

I buried my nose in his chest and shook my head. “You don’t want to know.”

“I want to know everything. Especially if it makes you laugh.” How did he always know the right thing to say?

“It was about Wallace.”

Franklin’s body tensed.

I smacked his chest. “I’ll tell you, but no judging, okay?”

“Cross my heart.”

I couldn’t believe I was telling somebody. “I dream about killing him. Almost every day. It usually isn’t pretty.”

“That’s why you were laughing?” he asked with a chuckle.

I nodded. “Warped, huh?”

“Just a little, Killer.”

“Killer? Ha! You’re funny.” I smacked his arm. “I fantasize about it at work, too. When I’m zoning out, and you have to yell to get my attention, I’m usually murdering him.”

“Huh,” he huffed. “Morbid, but kinda sexy.” He shifted to his side and molded my breast in his hand, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. My breath caught and my hips rolled and pressed into him, seeking his skin, his heat…just him.

I pressed a finger to his lips when he leaned in for a kiss. “Nope. I spilled the beans. Now it’s your turn.”

He groaned and nipped the pad of my finger.

“You didn’t judge. I won’t either,” I promised and laid my hand over his heart.

“No one has ever given me a gift aside from my mother.” He pressed his forehead to mine. Tingles flittered across my skin.

“You gave me the most precious gift.” His voice thickened. “One I don’t deserve. I took it like a greedy son of a bitch. You can never have it back. It’s mine forever. It hit me in the shower, how fucking monumental that was…” He cupped my ass and ground me against his swollen cock. “I didn’t expect it. I was overwhelmed.” His lips tickled my cheek. “I just wish I’d known, I would’ve been careful with you.”

“It was perfect,” I managed to mumble through the lump stuck in my throat. “And you’re perfect.”

“I’m not. God, I’ll never be good enough for you.”

That wasn’t the self-confident Franklin I’d worked side by side with for the past couple of months. He wasn’t the man who’d swooped down from his white cloud to cloak me with his protective shield. The Franklin, lying naked with me in the dark, seemed halfway real and for the first time…attainable.

I’d set him high on a pedestal, to worship and adore. So close, but forever out of reach. With the absence of light, when his unreal beauty couldn’t blind me, I saw the man inside. I liked what was in there. I liked it so much, my chest hurt.

“Let’s not waste any more time talking,” I said, sliding my hand down the bumpy muscles of his torso.

He gripped my wrist and stopped me. “I don’t want to hurt you. We should take it easy.”

“I’m a twenty-four year old virgin.
Was
a twenty-four year old virgin. I’m a freakin’ pressure cooker ready to blow. You can’t lay next to me all naked and muscular and super sexy and expect me to sleep. Come on. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Franklin laughed. I loved his laugh. I loved making him laugh.

I didn’t know what hour of the night or morning it was, but by the time the sun peeked through the trees, I’d gained an intimate knowledge of my body. Franklin’s, too.

The drive home that afternoon was mostly a blur. We did stop to buy a new phone. Franklin insisted I get a new number and a whole new carrier. His, actually. The sex coma I’d been in the entire day prevented me from arguing. I’d change it later if necessary, when my thoughts weren’t inundated with visions of male body parts.

“Shall I stay with you tonight?” he asked when he pulled next to my car in the parking lot of his apartment. I knew it was more a statement than a question.

“Um, duh.” I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes.

He put the suitcase in my trunk and made sure I was belted in the driver’s seat before closing the door. “I’ll run upstairs, grab some clean clothes. Be right down. I’ll follow you home, don’t leave without me.”

“Okay, Dad.” I gave him a two-finger salute and watched his fine ass strut across the gravel lot. I scanned my surroundings after he disappeared behind the door. It was daylight, yet the innocent parking lot reminded me of a cemetery on a foggy night during a full moon. A motorcycle passed on the street and my pulse raced. A tall man walked by and I shrunk in my seat. Shit. The stalker creep had wedged his way under my skin and stuck, hindering my ability to look at the world through rose-colored glasses.

Franklin took too damned long to come back. When he did, I released my death grip on the steering wheel. He gave me a thumbs up and pulled a baseball cap low on his forehead before hopping in his car.

He rode my ass the entire drive home.

* * * *

Who knew a zipper could be sexy? I’d never given much consideration to the sound the slider made as it bumped over metal teeth, traveling downward, freeing its captor from the binds of cotton, leather, or in my case, denim. But through the short, heavy breaths, the smack of wet lips across my collarbone, the drone of cars passing in the street below, that one sound resonated above every other. Franklin Reed pulled the zipper of my jeans down with a slow, steady, controlled motion, driving me completely out of my mind with want.

I wiggled, hoping to speed things up.

“We have all night, Killer. No need to rush.” The muscles behind that zipper tightened in response to the deep rasp of his voice.

Oh, how I did need to rush. Every part of me burned and swelled with the ebb and flow of heated blood pounding through my veins. The softest touch, each whisper or slight shift of his body, amplified the vibrations of overwrought nerves. I would die. I truly would die if he didn’t grant me a reprieve from the torture.

I couldn’t take any more. “You’re killing me,” I screamed, pushing him away.

My cheeks throbbed, flushed with need. That was nothing compared to the burn behind Franklin’s eyes when he watched me strip the last of my clothing away. My jeans landed somewhere near the bathroom door. My panties? Who cared?

Exhausted as I was from the zero hours of sleep granted the night before, my sole concern was to have the man, who stood in his birthday suit center stage in my bedroom, in any position other than upright. As long as any of our body parts touched, I’d be a happy, happy girl. I stepped closer, ready to pounce. Franklin took a step back, folded his arms across his chest and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Good God, woman. That body is blazing.” Holding a hand up, he spun his finger in a fast circle. “Turn around.”

I wasn’t oblivious to the dimples gracing my plump rear. I had natural curves, cellulite in a few places. Body image had never been an issue. I didn’t need a man or a size two waist to make me feel pretty, but holy heaven above, the way his eyes narrowed and lips twisted—Sophia Loren, Marilyn Monroe, hell, even Scarlett Johansson had nothing on me. I turned slow, jetted my rear and tossed my hair over my shoulder.

Smack.

Franklin’s hand stung my fanny. I squealed.

“This ass is mine.” From behind, he rubbed away the bite of his slap.

I reached back and guided his hands to my chest. “And these?”

He massaged my breasts, holding their weight. “These tits are mine.”

A fiery spasm roared between my legs. As if sensing the heat, he slid one hand down my stomach and cupped my sex. “And this, Killer, belongs to me.” He trailed wet kisses along my shoulder and up my neck. “Forever,” he whispered, sliding a finger inside me.

Forever? Wow. That sounded insane. How could he talk about forever, this stranger who’d become my world? It was too soon. At least that’s what common sense dictated. I wanted an eternity with him, as sure as the sun would rise in the morning.