Page 111 of Boss of the Year
I couldn’t argue with that.
Because while we were admitting hard truths, I felt safe here, tucked in his arms, in a way I’d never felt in my life.
Not in my little brown house in Belmont.
Not in my tiny apartment in Paris.
Not in my room above the garage at Prideview.
Here, in the arms of a man whom I had no right to love, sheltered by his steady breathing and the solid strength of his body, I finally understood safety. I had my first taste of true peace.
When slumber took me, it was with my name on his lips, chanted as a soft prayer.
“Good night, sweet Marie.”
22
GREEN PROTEIN SMOOTHIE
*Blend the greens first to hide the bitterness.
Subtle rays of sun, thinned slightly by fog rolling off the Thames, woke me from the deepest sleep I’d had in a long time.
I blinked into the light, unable to move. Not only because I was so content but also because I was pinned in place, completely wrapped in a man who had not moved for the last eight and a half hours.
Lucas’s arm was draped over my waist, holding me fast in his sleep, the other wedged under my pillow to cradle my head in the crook of his elbow. One long leg rested between mine, knee bent, powerful thigh weighing me to the mattress.
I was his captive, unable to move. And just like last night, I’d never felt safer.
“Marie…”
The sound of my name—soft and aching—spilled against the back of my neck. Stubble grazed over my skin before his full mouth found the spot just beneath my ear and sucked, slow and deep.
A moan, soft and low, escaped my chest.
Then his hand began a lazy perusal up my body.
It slid under the hem of my camisole and found my breast. As he squeezed, Lucas’s groan shook his chest. Then he squeezed again, rougher the second time, like even his subconscious couldn’t be patient. He thrust against me from behind, grinding against my backside with his unmistakable erection pressing between the cheeks of my ass.
“Lucas,” I breathed as the hand on my breast kneaded a third time.
“So soft,” he murmured. “So perfect. So—fuck.”
At that moment, his whole body tensed. The hand on my breast. The thighs curved behind mine. The arm under my neck.
It was clear that neither of us was asleep anymore.
Lucas swore and tried to move away. “Jesus, I’m so?—”
“Wait.” My order was small, but audible as I kept the hand on my breast where it was by covering it with my own. And with a slow roll of my hips that would have made Joni proud, I pressed back against him. Urging him on.
“Marie.” My name was cut with a ragged gasp. “Jesus. Baby. We—no, we have to stop?—”
“Please.” Didn’t he want me to beg? He’d said that once before, and here I was, practically doing it without a thought otherwise.
All I knew was that every cell in my body was telling me that I didn’t just want Lucas to touch me, I needed him. Everywhere.
I needed to know what he would do next if I said it was all right.
