Page 119 of Grumpy Boss of the Year

“Liam!” she says.

“What? I’m just being honest. Was that your first time in the sea?”

“What if I said it wasn’t? Would you be upset?”

“No,” I say quickly, and she laughs and touches the side of my face.

“Well, that’s good because it was.”

A feeling of euphoria bursts inside of me, and I kiss her passionately again.

“Come on. Let’s go to the sand.”

“But I don’t want to lie in the sand. It’s rough and grainy, and there’ll be sand everywhere.”

“That is true. I didn’t think about that.” I nod in agreement. “I don’t have any towels, and while I love licking everything off of you, I don’t really want to lick sand.”

“So, what do we do?” she asks.

“I guess we stand in the sand and dry off.” I rub my upper thighs. “Oh, Elisabetta, don’t be mad at me, please.”

“I’m not mad at you. I mean, at least not about that.”

“You’re still mad at me about…” My voice trails off and I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Of course, I’m still mad at you about what’s going on with my dad. That’s going to take me a long time to get over. Just because I allowed you to carnally know me doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive and forget that easily.”

“Okay,” I say. “That’s understandable. So, does that mean that we’re not sharing a bed tonight?”

“I’ll think about it.” She grins.

“So, does that mean I need to fuck you one more time in the ocean so that?—”

“Liam!” She giggles. “You’re insatiable!”

“I mean, when it comes to you, I am. Do you know how long I waited?”

“You’re acting like you waited years. It hasn’t even been…” She blushes slightly. “You know what? I don’t even want to think about how long I’ve known you because I might feel like a bit of a slut.”

“Don’t say that,” I say, glaring at her.

“What?”

“I don’t want to ever hear you use the word slut about yourself again.”

“I was just joking. I don’t really…”

“I really like you, and what we’ve done and what we’re doing, well, it’s special.”

I take a deep breath. I’m feeling really uncomfortable at this moment, and I don’t really know how to express what I’m feeling. But something inside of me wants to let her know that this just isn’t about the sex; this just isn’t about me needing her body.

“You are…”

“I know, I’m beautiful—thank you—and funny and charismatic and…”

“You’re special to me,” I say, placing my hand over her heart.

“Are you trying to cop a feel of my breasts again?” she says, half-joking, and I shake my head.

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