Page 16 of The Boss
“You’re hurt too,” she whispered.
He ignored her, binding her palm in gauze, the wrap tight, efficient. Only when it was finished did he lean back. She reached before she could stop herself, fingertips brushing his cheek. Heat poured into her hand. He went still, eyes narrowing.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
His eyes locked on hers, dangerous. “So are you. Ineed to clean your other cuts.”
Her breath caught. Her hand trembled against his skin, thumb tracing the edge of his injury, smearing blood. He didn’t move. The muscles of his face were steel under her palm. His breath turned turbulent, dark and heavy, close enough she could tasteit.
The Brand surged, savage, unstoppable. Desire ripped through her veins, making her ache, making her weak. She tried to pull back, but he caught her wrist.
“Don’t.” A growl, dark and primal.
Her pulse hammered wild. “We can’t—”
“We already are.”
The words stole the air from her lungs. His hand slid to the back of her neck, firm, unyielding, pulling her toward him. Her lips parted on a gasp, heart crashing against her ribs. The world narrowed to him—the iron grip, the heat of his body, the inevitability that he would claim her mouth withhis.
And she couldn’t, wouldn’t, stopit.
Chapter 6
LEIF’S MOUTHcrashed down on hers, the kiss violent with need, all fire and no hesitation. It wasn’t tentative, it wasn’t polite. It was visceral, claiming, acollision that stole the air from her lungs and replaced it withheat.
Mariah gasped into him, then clutched at his shirt, pulled him closer, opening for him without thought. His tongue swept deep, ruthless, tasting, demanding. She met him with equal fury, anger and want tangled until she couldn’t separate them. He lifted her against him, pressing her back into the couch, grinding his body into hers until every nerve lit up like flame.
She moaned into his mouth, lost, dizzy, hungry for more, for everything. His hands framed her face, slid down to grip her hips, pulling her tighter into the hard line of his arousal, making her gasp again. The kiss turned feral, teeth clashing, breath mingling, each fighting and surrendering in the same heartbeat. Time unraveled. There was only this—his mouth, his strength, the wildfire consuming her from the insideout.
They broke apart only when the need for air became undeniable, lips swollen, breath ragged, hearts hammering like war drums. The taste of him lingered on her tongue, the forceof him still pressed into her body, the wildfire still raging through her veins. For a moment she lay sprawled against the couch cushions, stunned by the sheer ferocity of what had just happened, every nerve alive, too sharp, too aware—and every one of them still tuned to the man stretched out besideher.
Leif.
He hadn’t let her go since he’d joined her on the couch. One of his hands still clasped her wrist with quiet authority, not cruel, not careless, but absolute. His blue eyes raked over her, sharp and assessing, like he was cataloging every bruise, every cut, every possible threat she carried. The same eyes that had devoured her during that kiss now burned with a different intensity, protective and unyielding. She hated the way it made her tremble. Not from fear—never fear—but from the dangerous heat that still rolled between them, hotter now for having tasted what they could ignite together.
“Strip,” he said.
The word snapped through the air like a command on a battlefield.
Her breath caught. “Excuse me?”
His gaze didn’t flicker. “I’m checking for wounds. You’re covered in blood—some of it mine, some of it may be yours. Iwon’t risk missing something because you’re modest.”
She froze, pulse hammering. The scent of smoke and sweat clung to both of them. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, stained dark along her ribs. She hadn’t realized until now how much her body ached, painfully scraped from the chaos in the hallway.
“Leif—”
“Take it off.” His tone dropped lower, dangerous with the edge of a man who didn’t repeat himself. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
Heat surged under her skin. Not just embarrassment. Not just resistance. Something hotter. Something that tied straight into the pulse beating low in her belly. She wanted to deny him, wanted to spit the word no, but the fire in his eyes said he’d peel her out of the ruined silk whether she fought or not. And God help her, part of her wanted himto.
She wet her lips, aware of how dry her throat had become. “You can’t just—”
“I can. And I will.” He stood and pulled her from the couch, his size crowding her, his voice lowering to a dark purr. “I won’t let you bleed out because you’re too stubborn to bare your skin. Now. Take it off.”
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the zipper. Every second stretched, thick with awareness. She could sense his gaze on her, heavy as a touch, stripping her before her dress even slid from her shoulders. The sound of the zipper rasping down was loud in the quiet penthouse, like a secret exposed. Her breath came shallow, shaky, and she hated that he could hearit.
The fabric loosened, then slipped away, gray silk pooling at her feet in a heap that seemed suddenly obscene. She stood motionless, trapped between shame and desire, in only her lace bra and panties. He’d seen her like this before. And yet… Her skin prickled under his scrutiny, every inch of her exposed though she wasn’t fullybare.
