How to Kill Your Boss (5 page)

A wave of sweet relief washed over me. As much as I hated to be a burden or play the helpless girl, I was not keen on the idea of spending the evening alone in my big apartment.

Pushing himself away, he snatched his keys and headed out. “I need to grab some things from my car. Lock the door behind me.”

I nodded. Sheesh, overprotective much? It wasn’t like someone would break into my apartment in the few minutes it took him to get to his car and back. Besides, the police were still present and busy right outside.

Seven minutes and forty-eight seconds later, I buzzed Franklin back into the building. He stepped through the door with a large gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Where should I put this?” he asked, moving through the room like a man on a mission.

“Oh. You’re staying the night. Like the whole night?” To say I was shocked would be an understatement. Ecstatic glee took over my insides, head to toe.

“I told you. Not leaving you alone. I’m fine on the couch or the floor.”

I bit back a snicker. Yeah right, Franklin on the floor? There had to be a law against such an atrocity. “No need. I have a guest room.” I led him down the hallway to my extra bedroom. The jaunt was short, but seemed an eternity with his presence looming behind me, protective and overwhelming.

Before turning the knob, I turned to face him. “So, you are my first official overnight guest.” I swung the door open with dramatic flair and swept my arm wide to present the room. “Please be gentle with her. The shower is in there.” I pointed to the bathroom.

He set the bag down on the bed but didn’t take his eyes off me for a blink. The furnace burning slow and steady in my belly cranked to high.

“Do you always come prepared for sleepovers?” I smirked at him.

“Something like that,” he chuckled.

I was sure he did the sleepover thing often. A revolving supply of bags were probably stashed in his car, one for every night of the week. It would certainly explain the barren state of his apartment.

“Thank you,” I blurted, pressing my hand to my chest. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

He cupped my shoulders and shook me playfully. “Come on, now. The Tate I know wouldn’t be afraid of some silly, gruesome assault, would she?”

I laughed and hugged him. I couldn’t help it. My cheek pressed against his warm, hard chest when he squeezed me back. His breath tickled the top of my head before he landed a soft kiss. I inhaled deep and slow. I wanted to smell him. Skin, sweat, anything. What I got was a big whiff of freshly laundered cotton.

He held me tight. My body responded, every nerve vibrating in anticipation.

Oh crap.

Franklin shifted and pulled away, only enough to look down. “There’s something you need to know about me.”

No. I knew it. The illusion was too perfect to be real. The bomb was about to drop.

Reluctantly, I slipped from his embrace and sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. I gripped the tall bedpost and held on for dear life. “Let’s hear it.” The quiver in my voice betrayed the veneer of confidence I’d built.

With a deep intake of breath, he sat next to me, pressing shoulder and thigh, warm and solid, against my trembling body.

“I was married. It was a long time ago and it didn’t end on a pretty note.”

Okay. That wasn’t too bad. So what? Divorcee’. No big deal, and not a shock. The man was beautiful. Why wouldn’t he have been married?

I managed a nod. He wasn’t finished.

“She’s the only woman I’ve ever been with.” That was a bit of a shock. A bit unbelievable, too.

“Okay.” Why was he telling me this?

Franklin slid his hand across my thigh and laced his fingers through my own. “I want you in every way possible. It’s not only physical. I know we work together. I know everything about this is wrong, but fuck, I can’t get you out of my head. The way you taste.” His tongue traced his lower lip and his gaze traveled to my mouth. “The way our bodies fit together, the way you make me laugh. Holy shit. I haven’t laughed so much in years.” He held me captive with his words, the expression he wore, the heat burning me alive from the inside out.

So, he didn’t just want a place to stick his dick. Suddenly, I wanted to be that place anyway. I wanted to be the only place he ever stuck it again. Would I get hurt? Most likely. It’d be worth the cost of the ride, of that I was certain. Would we get fired if anyone found out? Sure. But who would ever know?

Oh, to hell with workplace ethics.

“I’ve been patient—” He started to speak again, but I shut him up when I bit his lower lip and sucked. He didn’t fight me off when I straddled his thighs and pushed him flat across the bed. It took him about a tenth of a second to claim my mouth and kiss me hard enough to steal my breath.

His duffel hit the floor with a thud. Then he slid strong, hot fingers underneath my yoga pants, cupped my ass with a hard squeeze, and groaned. Man alive—that set my blood on fire.

* * * *

Sex should have been the last thing on my mind. Franklin Reed should not have been in my home, especially not on my bed. Maybe I needed some excitement to wipe the gruesome images of Jacob from my head. Maybe, being this near to Franklin was sensory overload, and I was like every other warm-blooded female on the planet and completely at the mercy of raw, male sex appeal.

In that moment, I didn’t care why I was unable to form the simple combination of two letters, N and O.

He kissed me. Claimed me. Assaulted my mouth with such seductive ambition, I’d need an oxygen mask when he finished.

The force he used to knead my butt bordered on painful, but with every movement of his strong hands, a fire surged through my skin. His kiss, desperate and hurried, deepened as did the strength he used to smash me against a growing erection.

I pulled away, desperate for precious oxygen. Holy shit. Franklin stared up at me with hungry, tortured eyes. Lust-filled. Ravenous. Fervent. He devoured me with a contemplation I’d never experienced. Paralyzed me with the intimacy of his gaze, chest thumping against mine.

I memorized his eyes, every fleck and shimmer of color, the curve of his lashes, each fine wrinkle carved around his lids. I couldn’t blink or look away, afraid that if I did, I’d lose him, even if this were only for one night.

“There’s so much I need to say to you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Oh God, I was going to lose him.

I shook my head no. “Please, right now I just want to feel you.” I pressed my lips to his, hoping to silence the inevitable rejection. He slid his hands to the small of my back, then higher. I shifted to pull my weight off him. With a sharp inhale, he wrapped his arms around me and flipped so I was pinned beneath him.

Caged like a wild animal.

With hands fisted on either side of my shoulders, he straddled my thighs. His long sleeved T-shirt did nothing to conceal the sculptured male muscle underneath. I couldn’t wait to see what the damned clothing hid. In fact, I couldn’t wait to help him get out of it.

I grabbed his shirt hem and tugged upward. A playful smile stretched across his face, and he lifted his arms, allowing me to peel the cotton from his taught skin. He sat back on his heels, hands to knees, and studied me as if deciding which part of my body to ravish first. Perfect, because it gave me time to examine him.

Okay. It was ridiculous. I’d seen plenty of shirtless men. None of them up close and personal, but hey, I watched movies, skimmed through magazines, browsed the internet. Sexy bodies were everywhere, but never, ever, had I seen a man so innately, well, male. One hundred percent, grade-A certified beefcake, pure sex, born to procreate—or at least make women want to procreate.

His skin stretched so tight across his chest and abs, I could trace every muscle, every vein. Under clothing, his narrow waist gave the illusion of slightness. In the buff—pure power. It veed to an obscenely cut pack of abs and swelled to pecs that could have been chiseled from the finest granite, buffed then polished to perfection.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. Unworthy? Yep. I was a whole bunch of soft and squishy. The man straddling me? Blindingly beautiful. Greek God, gladiator, sexy fireman, supermodel… I could go on all day.

I laughed. Couldn’t help it.

The way he cocked his head to the side made him even more scrumptious. “What’s so funny?”

“Look at you. What, do you work out like sixteen hours a day? I mean, seriously?” I tried to sit up. Franklin slapped a palm to the center of my bosom and held me down.

I pinched at various points on his body, hoping to find flabby skin or an ounce of fat somewhere.

Perfection. Head to toe.

How could I get naked next to him?

“No fat anywhere? Come on.”

Before I could grunt in frustration, he clasped my hands over my head and with warm, moist lips, nibbled my earlobe. “Your turn to strip.”

Oh, my. This
was
happening. With graceful ease, he freed my arms and removed my shirt and bra. Had I the inclination to stop him, it was too late. We’d passed the point of no return.

My nipples took on a life of their own, begging for attention. “Holy shit, baby. Look at you.” He gazed upon them with feral hunger, but didn’t tend to my breasts right away. Instead, he smoothed his hand over my stomach and ran a finger under the waistband of my yoga pants. He slid down the length of my legs, trailing kisses across my abdomen, paying special attention to the soft area around my navel. I quivered under his strokes, an embarrassing display of unbridled lust. He looked up at me. I turned away. I would shatter if I got lost under that intense scrutiny again.

I closed my eyes and focused on the heated trails his lips and tongue blazed across my skin. When he snagged the sides of my waistband and peeled my pants down my hips, my insides exploded with cruel bursts of fear and self-doubt.

One-Date Tate.

I wouldn’t let the ugly in. Not tonight. I wanted him, whether it led to something more or not.

I clasped his wrists. “Stop.”

Stop.
I regretted the word before it left my lips. Franklin’s shoulders slumped, his chest rose and fell, forcing a puff of frustrated air across my abdomen. He looked at me without lifting his head and tugged my pants back to my waist.

“Franklin, wait.” I sat up, meeting him face to face. “I don’t want you to stop. It’s just…” Oh, crap. Never, in the two months that I’d known him, did I expect to have this conversation with Franklin. “I don’t have any condoms. I’ve no use for them. Don’t date very often.” More like, don’t date ever. I’d been on birth control for years to regulate my periods, but that was TMI for this situation. Heated bursts of blood hit my cheeks and he reached up to cup the side of my face.

“I don’t either.” He dotted my nose and forehead with soft kisses and sat up, gracing me with a playful grin. “I’m not ready to stop. We can still have fun.”

With panther-like grace, he pushed himself off the bed and stood over me, chest heaving, eyes burning. Holding me captive with his hypnotic stare, he slid his hands to the waistband of his jeans and worked the first clasp with slow, guarded movement. The bulge behind the fabric filled me with prickles of anticipation. The sweet torture amplified when I noticed the flex of muscle in his forearms as he maneuvered each button with rugged hands. I couldn’t wait until those fingers touched my most sacred of places, and somehow I knew they would know exactly where to go and what to do.

I licked my lips and watched the show, eager yet terrified of what was to come. Thank God, I’d showered and reacquainted myself with Lady Bic.

Much to my disappointment, Franklin unfastened three buttons and stopped. He zeroed in on my waistband once again. There was no slow-and-gentle this time. In one swift move, my pants disappeared, leaving me bare.

I wished I had a camera to capture the expression on his face. “No panties? You are so fucking sexy.” He continued removing his jeans.

“Let me.” I sat up and scooted toward the edge of the bed. I needed to touch him, to feel his naked flesh under my palm. His erection jerked against my fingers. I undid his last two buttons and peeled his jeans down his thighs, leaving him in nothing but black boxer briefs. He kicked the denim to the side and bent to kiss me, blocking my attempt at removing his last article of clothing. “Not yet. Tonight is for you.”

Franklin Reed knelt before me, maneuvered his body between my thighs and lifted a heavy, aching breast to his mouth. A strange noise rose from my throat. Holy cow, did I whimper? He pulled deep on my nipple and sucked. Currents of ecstasy pulsed through me, and I gripped the edge of the mattress to anchor myself.

His tongue brushed over the sensitive flesh. Driven by instinct, I grabbed his head and pulled him harder against my swollen D-cups. Franklin moved from one breast to the other and mumbled something about soft and sweet. I couldn’t respond. I could barely form a coherent thought. My insides burned. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips, made me quiver and crave more.

Then his fingers found my sex. I ached down there. An ache that pulsed in sync with the flow of blood pounding in my ears. When his thumb grazed the surface of my sensitive tissue, I moaned. I’d never moaned before. Not with desire, anyway. I couldn’t take much more. Certainly I’d be reduced to ash if he continued. Franklin spread my thighs wider and lowered his head.

Oh. My. I’d never seen anything more sensual than Franklin’s head between my legs and dreamy blue eyes promising me pleasure beyond reason. “I’ve waited too long to taste you,” he whispered before plunging his tongue between my wet folds.

The way he’d worked my mouth with kisses was child’s play compared to what he did down there. With each stroke, each suck, nibble, plunge…I convulsed in wanton pleasure. I fisted the bedding, ground my hips against his face. My legs, reacting to his unspoken commands, wrapped around his neck. I squeezed my thighs together to speed things up or slow them down. Hell, I hadn’t a clue what I needed or wanted, except more.

I’d never been consumed so completely—mind, body and spirit. I needed him inside me, controlling, possessing. He gave everything. I wanted more.