Page 110 of A Bossy Roommate

My hands fumble with the button of his pants, finally able to open it and pull his zipper down. I need to touch his dick, to make him feel as good as he’s making me feel.

With a nod, he pulls away, this time to push his jeans and boxer briefs down over his hips, freeing his cock. He’s hard. Thick. Angry. I wrap my hand around his length, still thrilled by the size in my palm.

I stroke and squeeze, swallowing the swears he spouts.

With a groan, he tugs my skirt down. “This needs to go. Now.”

I lift my hips to assist, and when it—and my wet panties—are gone, there’s nothing left between us.

No barriers.

Except for one maybe: my conscience.

“I can’t wait to lick you clean, baby,” he growls, interrupting my thoughts.

He doesn’t lick, or eat my pussy, hedevoursit. There’s no other way to describe it. By the time he’s done destroying my clit, I’m a breathing, panting mess, begging him to do everything and anything he wants with me.

I’m crazy for him, ready and willing.

We kiss when he pushes in. He steals my breath as I gasp, his hand cupping my cheek while his hips start moving back and forth, taking me slowly at first. “God, you’re gorgeous. You’re perfection, baby.”

My body is more alive than it has ever been.

“Carter…I have something to tell you,” I blurt.

I need to tell him.

He looks up without stopping his thrusting motions, continuing to fuck me. When I don’t say anything, he raises his eyebrows, softly rumbling, “What, baby?” He keeps thrusting without breaking his rhythm, or waiting for my answer.

I know at once that no matter how many times we do this, it will never be enough.

I’m always going to want him.

“Nothing,” I whisper.

And as we make love that night, as we lose ourselves in each other’s arms, I know I’m where I’m supposed to be. In his arms. Under his body. Owned by him. Loved by him. Every experience, every triumph and setback, every twist and turn filling chapters and chapters has ultimately led me to this page, where destiny has united me and him. Carter.

He pulls me up into a tight embrace. His hand cradles my head, gathering my hair into a circle around his wrist, and then he tugs my hair backward, causing my mouth to open and my head to tilt backward.

“You’re mine, all mine.”

He thrusts in.

Even with theunknown hanging over Carter’s professional life, I try to relax. By Monday morning I’ve convinced myself that it’s not Gretchen. I tell myself that I’m notthatbad a judge of character, and I honestly believe it.

Despite wishing for more time to spend with Carter, I’m excited to hit the ground running when my alarm goes off.

I know whatever comes next, we can handle it, together.

But the sooner Bradley and I clear Carter’s name, the better I’ll feel.

“Any plans for today?”I ask Carter as I’m getting ready for work.

“Yes, I have a meeting with a friend who wants some investment advice.”

“I’ve gotta say, babe, you’re handling this firing way better than I would,” I tell him, picking up my coffee mug. “Aren’t you mad?” I’ve heard him on the phone with Vance once or twice, seeking advice and discussing potential courses of action. Ultimately, it all comes down to one crucial requirement: tangible evidence.

“I’m mad as fuck. My blood is boiling. In fact, I want to strangle the damn bastard who’s responsible for this. Huxley, that miserable conspirator. But there are more important tasks demanding my attention right now. I see the potential for a new beginning.”

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