Page 33 of The Boss
He would’ve taken her then if she hadn’t been the one to break away first. Instead, he caught her wrist, pulled her back, and let his restraint snap. In a swift, possessive move, he eased her onto the couch, laying her back against the cushions, hisshirt falling open around her curves. The sight of her stretched out beneath him unraveled him further. He pushed the hem higher, baring her thighs, baring the heat he craved.
He kissed down her body—her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the soft quiver of her stomach—until he was between her legs. He parted her with steady hands, the scent of her flooding him, making his head spin with hunger.
He bent and pressed his mouth to her, gradual at first, tasting, savoring, then deeper, relentless, worshipping every shudder that broke from her lips. He held her thighs wide, pinned her when she tried to twist, forcing her to take all of it. He licked and sucked until her hands clawed at his hair and the Brand burned like fire in his palm against herskin.
Her cries filled the room, each one sweeter than any victory. She broke apart for him, trembling and gasping, and he drank her down, prolonging every ripple until she sagged, limp and wrecked beneath him. Only then did he climb back up her body, mouth wet with her, and kiss her like sin, making her taste herself on his tongue.
He would’ve taken her then if she hadn’t pushed at his shoulders with a look that said she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She slid out from under him, slower this time, like a queen granting mercy. He cursed and shifted so he lay beneath her.
“Look at me,” shesaid.
He did. She had his cock in her hand and reverence in her eyes, and he had the thought, irrational and absolute, that if any god wanted prayers from him, the only altar he recognized was her mouth. She licked the tip in a lazy circle that made his vision go hot and grainy. Then she took him, inch by inch, no hurry, until he was seated on a heat so perfect he had to close hiseyes.
He lasted longer this time only because he forced himself. He set his hand on the back of her head and slid the silk of her hair under his fingers. He told her what he liked in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. He asked her to take him deeper and she did. He asked her to swallow and she did that too, moaning low and sinful around him until he forgot the names of the men he intended to kill tomorrow.
He warned her when he was close because it seemed like the thing he should do. She ignored the warning because she was his and she’d already decided what to take from him. He broke open again, less brutal and more endless, and when he came back to himself she was watching him with a satisfaction that made pride curl in his chest.
“You’re trying to ruin me,” he said, voice wrecked.
She tipped her head. “Am I succeeding?”
“Yes.” The word came out broken, almost savage with need. He reached for her, pulled her up into his lap, and this time he didn’t stop at her forehead. He surrendered.
He kissed her mouth like it was the only thing that had ever mattered, deep and consuming, finally letting go of every ounce of control he’d hoarded. Her lips parted for him and the taste of her poured through him like heat and light. He angled her head, took more, gave more, tongues tangling, her small sounds rising into his throat until he couldn’t tell which belonged to him and which belonged toher.
The kiss stretched, changed—soft at first, then hungrier, wet and lush, aclaiming and a surrender wound together. He nipped at her lower lip, soothed it with his tongue, kissed her again until she clutched at his shoulders as if the world might tilt without him there holding her. He kissed her until his lungs burned,until the city disappeared, until only the press of her body and the heat of her Brand against his mattered.
When he finally tore his mouth free, it was only to breathe against her swollen lips. “You undo me,” he whispered.
She answered with another kiss, slower, tender, devastating. He sank into it, letting himself drown, and when he finally drew back his mouth curved against hers. “And I’m going to let you.”
They stayed like that, the city below pretending it didn’t notice two people deciding their futures thirty floors up. His hands learned her the way a thief learns the tumblers of a lock. She traced the scar on his shoulder and didn’t ask how he got it. He was grateful for that mercy and he paid it back by not asking her the name of her father again. Not tonight.
“Say together,” he told her atlast.
“Together,” she whispered.
The Brand answered, asteady burn, not a flare. Not a demand. Avow.
He stood with her in his arms because he wanted her there. She made a startled sound that turned into a laugh against his throat. He carried her to her bedroom and laid her on the bed, tucking the sheet over her like she was something precious he wasn’t going to let the night steal. He didn’t take more. He wanted to, with a hunger that bordered on feral. He wouldn’t. He’d win this war by taking ground and holding it, not by burning the field.
He turned to leave. Her hand caught his wrist.
“Stay,” she said.
He looked down at her. The sheet rode her thighs. His shirt swallowed her. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and too sincere. Hecouldn’t refuse her anything. He stripped, then slid in behind her, gathered her back to his chest, and fitted their hands together at her waist so that lion lay overlion.
“Leif,” she murmured, almost asleep already.
“Mm.”
“I didn’t use you.”
“I know.” He sensed the Brand’s quiet assent. “Tomorrow we hunt. Tonight you sleep.”
“Together,” she said again, softer.
“Together,” he answered, and closed his eyes while the city kept its own. He slept with a woman in his arms and a lion burning under his skin, and for the first time in years, the darkness didn’t seem like an enemy. It felt like a room where he could finally set down his weapon and still besafe.
