Page 154 of The Boss Situation

“Please,” he whispers, his voice broken. “Let me worship you the way you deserve, Ice Queen.”

I chew on the corner of my lip, my heart fluttering. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters in the world. He’s always looked at me that way.

He slides the waistband of my sweatpants down just enough to expose the curve of my ass, and his fingers slip under the fabric, teasing the edge of my panties. Asher’s strong hands claim every inch of me as he pushes my joggers down. Those beautiful lips brush against the inside of my thigh, and I can feel his hot breath close to my pussy. He’s teasing me, torturing me, and I can’t help but whimper. My hands fist in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he grows more desperate, more determined, as if that were even possible.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls against my skin. “Every inch of you. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you,” he promises.

His fingers hook into my panties, pulling them down at a snail’s pace and it feels like actual torture.

His mouth is back on me, hot and wet and so fucking sinful that I can barely breathe. His tongue is relentless, licking and sucking and devouring me like I’m his last meal. He slides his tongue in deeper, lapping me up like he’s completely addicted to the flavor of me.

Asher doesn’t take his eyes off me as he devours me.

“Fuck,” I finally moan, my hips rocking against his mouth, desperate for more.

“Mmm. I knew I’d get you to break your silence eventually,” he growls against me, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure coursing through my body.

His tongue circles my clit before he takes me into his hot mouth. My eyes bolt shut, and I swear I see stars exploding behind my eyelids.

One of his fingers slides inside me, curling just right, and I’m fucking gone. My legs shake, my knees go weak, but he holds me steady with his strong arms as I surrender to his fingers and tongue.

“That’s it,” he growls, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath warm against my skin. “Come for me, princess. Let me hear you.”

“No. I’m still mad at you,” I whimper, feeling the build as my muscles tense.

His fingers are inside me, and I’m trying not to scream, but, fuck, it’s hard when he’s moving them like that—curled just right, brushing against that spot that makes my legs shake with anticipation. He’s wearing that cocky-as-fuck smirk I’ve grown to adore, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. His other hand is on my thigh, steadying me.

“Oh, you’re not gonna come yet, like a brat?” he whispers, his voice low.

His fingers move at a tortuous pace, and I whimper, squirming under him, but he doesn’t fucking care. He’s in control; he always has been, and he knows it.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I gasp, my voice cracking with need. I sound pathetic, but I don’t care. I need him to keep going, to fuck me with his big fingers until I can’t think straight.

“Mmm. I can do this all goddamn night, but I think I’ve justdecided that you’ll come whenIsay,” he tells me, and his lips transform into that smirk again. “Just say please.”

The way he moves his fingers—like he’s trying to drive me wild—is making it impossible for me to think. His thumb circles my clit, and I arch my back, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck you,” I hiss, but it comes out more like a moan than anything else.

“No, baby,” he says, his voice dripping with the perfect amount of arrogance that I both hate and love. “Fuck you.”

And then he pulls his fingers out, and I almost scream in frustration. Before I can say anything, he stands, lifting me in his arms and carrying me to the bedroom. Asher sets me on the bed, continuing to worship every inch of me as he fully undresses me.

He takes a step back, his gaze full of want and need. “Do you forgive me yet?”

“No,” I say, watching him unbutton his shirt, seeing the fabric fall to the floor.

Muscles cascade down his stomach, and I try to memorize every inch of him as he strips away the last of his clothes. Then he moves to the bed, hovering above me, his body radiating heat.

His cock waits outside my entrance as we stare into one another’s eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know. I don’t want to lose you,” I confess, my heart racing. “You’re one of my only constants.”

Asher softly kisses me, his thumb brushing against my cheek. The mood grows serious, emotional, and too intense. This isn’t just a kiss; it’s war—with each other, with ourselves—and right now, we’re fully surrendering. His tongue invades my mouth, hot and slick, twisting with mine. I can feel the heat of him pressing against me, his cock hard between my thighs, teasing the slickness he created. Asher hasn’t entered me yet, but, fuck, he’s so close.

Then he’s inside me, stretching me open, filling me up in a way that makes my head spin. He’s so damn gentle that it doesn’t feel like two people fucking out their frustrations. I can feel every inchof him as he thrusts into me, deep and deliberate, like he’s trying to erase every mistake he made.

He breaks the kiss, meeting my gaze with soft, hooded eyes, full of so much admiration that it nearly takes my breath away—“I love you. I always have.”

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