by Poppy Dunne
“All right.” Scott says it between gritted teeth. “You’ve made your point, you bastard.”
“That’s the first time you ever called me that where it felt like a compliment. So here’s what I want: you go out there in front of all the terrible people you know and announce that you and your favorite spawn, Brad, are resigning from your positions. Call it starting a new enterprise, pushing the McCarthy family in a new direction. Call it belated father-son bonding.” Scott grimaces at that idea. I think right now the only bonding he wants with Brad is a fist to his face. “I don’t care what you do, so long as you don’t do it in McCarthy Pharma.” Rafe’s hand trails up my back. “Also, I want every last physical copy and digital file containing pictures of Tessa and me. If those pics get leaked, so does my information. Understood?”
Scott looks like he’s about to chew his own mustache off. Then he does the unexpected.
He grins.
“You don’t quit, do you? I can’t believe this one’s actually mine.” Scott looks discouragingly at Brad, who’s now huddled in a corner and trying his best to flatten his hair. “Clever of you to use your girl, too.”
“Hate to disappoint you, Scott… No, that’s a lie, I live to disappoint you.” Rafe kisses the top of my head. “I figured out the details, but this was her idea.”
If Scott looked surprised before, now he appears ready to keel over. He squints at me like I decided to show up for work naked and painted blue.
“You?” he murmurs.
Yep. Me. The cute little mouse gave the Burmese python indigestion.
“For the record, Mr. McCarthy? You and your son are the two worst people I have ever met in my life.” I pause, searching for something to add. “Also, you need to shave your mustache. It’s like something out of the ‘50s.”
“I could not be prouder of you than I am right now,” Rafe whispers in my ear. That sends a tingle all through my body. I look into his eyes, feel his arms around me, and realize that this is it. No more sneaking around, no more hiding. If we wanted to make wild, screaming love right now, Scott and Brad couldn’t do a damn thing to stop us. Though I think Scott would probably leave in disgust, and Brad would enjoy it a little too much.
“You can’t contain me, Rafe.” Scott says it like a supervillain, all slickness and no soul. “I’ll always have the funds and the contacts to start something fresh.”
Rafe grunts. “That’s true. But this’ll slow you down for a little while.” His thumb traces a protective circle against my back. “Right now, that’s enough.”
Scott’s quiet a minute. I can practically see the numbers flickering behind his eyes as he calculates risk and reward, how much to gamble and when to cut his losses. Finally, the human adding machine reaches a decision.
“All right,” he says. That’s it. No frustration or bitterness. In fact, he seems almost cheery now that he’s made a decision. He looks to Brad, and his expression withers into annoyance. “Bradley, make yourself presentable. Sober up, if you can. We have an announcement to make.”
Just like that, it’s done. Scott leaves, and Brad rolls around on the floor with a hardbound copy of Of Human Bondage. Boy, do I know what that feels like. But not anymore.
“Ready to get your old position back?” Rafe keeps his arm around my waist as we exit the library. Ahead of us, the party’s clinking and clamoring, all ready for Scott’s holiday toast. I gaze up at Rafe, tilting my head playfully.
“Which position do you mean?”
“All kinds of positions, now that you ask.” His voice is husky in my ear, and he presses a kiss to my temple. It’s a brief sensation, but my entire body erupts in pleasure. I need to get him out of this party, so he can get me out of these clothes.
First, though, we have a last job to do.
Rafe’s hand in mine, we hunt through the cacophony of partygoers until we find them. John’s easy to spot…and so is my sister. Becca got out her nicest dress, the turquoise with the ruched skirt, and dusted off the silver bangle earrings I got her last Christmas. From the way she and John are canoodling over a cup of rum punch, he’s deeply taken with the way she looks tonight. And why shouldn’t he be? My sister’s gorgeous.
“Is it weird that my sister and your cousin—” Rafe doesn’t even have to let me finish that sentence.
“It’s not awkward if I squint and pretend it’s happening to someone else,” he teases.
We arrive. John looks at us, both hopeful and wary. I guess that as a McCarthy, seeing good plans go bust is a way of life for him.
“Did you get it?” he asks. Rafe hands over my phone.
“If you accidentally delete that, I’ll make your life hell,” he replies.
John balks at that. “I made a mistake one time, asshole.”
“You tried to get on Twitter and gave yourself a computer virus in the process. I’m still not sure how that happened.” Rafe turns to Becca. “Do you know anything about technology?”
“I can tell the difference between Instagram and Snapchat. I’ll make sure nothing goes missing.” She drops my phone into her purse.
“And make sure I get that back.” I grin. “I need to reach the next level in Candy Crush.”
“I knew it,” Rafe mutters, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“Are you staying for Scott’s speech?” John grins, looking as if nothing could make him happier than to watch his uncle step down. “He’ll probably single you out to make a toast.”
“Yeah, he will.” Rafe presses me close against him, a hand across my stomach. I feel protected here. Safe. Also, increasingly horny: a potent cocktail of emotions. “I imagine it’ll embarrass him if I happen to be absent when he calls on me.”
John whistles low. “Count on it.”
“Good. Text me when the speech is done.” Rafe shakes hands with John, while Becca throws her arms around me.
“Thank God we got that babysitter. I didn’t want to miss this,” she whispers. Then, she wiggles her eyebrows. “Enjoy your night.” She makes ‘night’ very singsongy. Oh, I intend to enjoy it. From the way Rafe hustles me through the crowd, barely maintaining basic politeness as he meets and greets, my guess is he’s ready to enjoy it, too.
Soon we’re in our coats and standing outside Scott’s building. The Christmas lights are hazy in the falling snow. Flakes catch in Rafe’s dark hair, dust his broad shoulders. For a moment we stand together, trying to wrap our heads around what just happened.
“We did it,” I say simply. God, I’m going to start giggling and crying at the same time. Watch me. “I never have to hire classy hookers for Brad ever again.”
“That’s…not the image I wanted.” Rafe takes me in his arms and hoists me up, his mouth meeting mine. We kiss in the falling snow, ignoring the honk of the traffic and the passage of onlookers. For a moment there’s only the taste and feel of him, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms around me. When he puts me back down, it still feels like I’m floating. His lips brush mine as he speaks. “Everything’s going to be different now.”
“In a better way?”
Rafe’s phone buzzes with a text from John, which reads:
Deal is done. Scott and Brad are out.
Then:
He called on you to speak. Mad as HELL you left. Good job, man.
“I think it’s going to be different in a much better way.” Rafe kisses me again, running his hand through my hair, cupping my face. His kiss now is all-encompassing, almost savage. I abandon myself to him. After you’ve spent a lifetime being careful, freedom feels wild. Exhilarating. Alive.
“Where do you want to go now?” He places a last kiss at the corner of my mouth, almost gentle. “We can go anywhere you want. Paris is beautiful this time of year.”
“I actually don’t have a passport.” There’s never been a reason for me to go anywhere outside the country before. But things change fast.
“Hmm, we’ll have to fix that. In the meantime, I can always book you in cargo,” he
says conversationally, then laughs as I launch myself at him. It ends with us locked in another embrace. Normally I’m very anti-PDA, but then again, I’ve never successfully staged a coup before. It makes a girl elated. Happy.
Horny beyond all measure.
As if anticipating my thoughts, Rafe whispers, “So. Barring international travel, where would you like to go?”
The answer springs to my mind at once. “I need to fix a furnace in Astoria.”
Who says romance is dead?
Twenty-Two
Rafe
One hour after dethroning Scott and finally taking everything I’ve ever wanted, I didn’t expect to be kicking at some antiquated piece of plumbing in some old lady’s basement. And yet, with Tessa standing alongside holding a flashlight and shaking from laughter, I can’t imagine a more fitting end to the day.
She’s going to have to make this up to me. Loudly. Nakedly.
Very soon.
“How about…now?” I grunt the last word as I deliver a spectacular kick to the furnace. It’s an old, rust-rotted thing with tubes snaking out of it and into the walls, like a black metal heart pumping fiery blood to the rest of the building. A heart that’s gone into cardiac arrest.
Nope. Nothing.
“I’m sorry I forgot about this, Mrs. Taylor.” Tessa’s voice shakes as she shivers. The pool of light from her flashlight wavers back and forth.
“You are going to spend about ten hours on your back for this,” I mutter. “Hold the light still.”
“Yes, sir.” Tessa grins, the formality a tease. She knows the days of “sir” are over.
Unless she wants to keep them up in a hot, not-safe-for-work way.
“It’s all right, love. So handy of you to keep a studly man about your person,” Mrs. Taylor calls from the top of the steps. The sweetest Irish voyeur you’ll ever meet, this one. Apparently she gave Tessa some crumpets yesterday, then asked when I was coming over to bang her again.
The thought of getting Tessa Snowe out of the cold and into bed allows me to give one last, mighty whack of a wrench to the goddamn furnace. Somehow, that’s the one that does it. The thing clicks, coughs, then sputters to roaring life. Mrs. Taylor crows, and Tessa nearly drops the flashlight in her excitement—or from her hands going completely numb. One or the other.
“Oh, lovely!” Mrs. Taylor beams as I grab Tessa’s hand and drag her up the stairs. We breeze past the landlady. Sorry, ma’am. I am about to bang your favorite tenant senseless. Apologies to whoever lives directly below her, because I can’t promise how quiet it’s going to be.
“Good night,” Tessa says breathlessly, running to keep up with me. Mrs. Taylor calls something to the effect of “Be sure to use protection!” as Tessa and I mount the stairs. Blood’s racing as Tessa scrambles to open the door, and I herd her inside. Slamming the door shut, I study her in the moonlight through her window. She slides out of her coat, tossing it onto the floor. Her eyes are luminous in the near dark, her breasts heaving. Her breath…steams in the air.
“How long until this place heats up?” I mutter.
“Could be a w-while,” she says.
“We can either wait for it to get warm. Or.” I stride over and unzip her dress in one hard, fast movement. She arches against me, her breath a sigh of surprise against my neck. “I can get to work.”
She doesn’t say anything, only grabs me by the lapels of my coat and drags me backwards to her bed. Fuck, it really is cold. As I strip out of my clothes and bare my skin to the night air, I remember why relocating to the Los Angeles office seemed so attractive a few years ago.
But Tessa wouldn’t have been able to come with me out west. And that made the idea far, far less attractive. As she slides naked into bed, all thought of cold weather leaves my mind. I’d happily be on an ice floe in Antarctica right now if it meant being inside this woman.
Soon I’ve joined her underneath the covers, my mouth blazing a trail across her breasts and down her stomach. The cold evaporates between us, the press of our bodies heating things up. My hand slides between her legs, and she opens for me. Tessa whispers my name as I circle her clit with my finger; already, she’s quivering for me, on the verge of falling.
“Turn over,” she whispers. She slides her body out of my reach and sits up, knees to her chest. I don’t need any more direction than that. I get on my back, and she straddles me. Leaning down, she kisses me while rubbing the throbbing head of my erection down the slick line of her pussy. Her almost-thrusts are slow, tender…agonizing. Body clenched in anticipation, I grab her hips and try to force her down around me, but she pulls away. The tease.
I fucking love it.
“Bedside drawer,” she whispers. I roll it open to find a gleaming row of condoms inside. She cocks an eyebrow off my inquiring look. “They’re for you. I told you it’d been four years, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but they could have been dog’s years. I’ve been lied to about weirder things.” Tessa giggles as I sheath myself firmly. She rubs the opening of her sex along my engorged tip, teasing me to the point where I want to either explode or go insane. Whichever allows me to lose my mind and still be inside her, that’s the option I want.
“So, about the new position I’m going to have.” She continues swirling her hips, refusing me the final entry. Growling, I worry at one of her breasts, biting and licking her nipple. She gasps, but still won’t take me all the way. “How formal is it going to be?”
“I was going to say you’d still be underneath me.” I watch as the moonlight silvers her body, accentuating her curves. Her tousled hair. Her hard, beaded nipples. My eyes rake over her ample, wonderfully naked form. “But at the moment, you seem to have other ideas.”
“I might.” She jerks her hips away just as I try thrusting.
“I don’t do well with incomplete work, Ms. Snowe.” My body tenses as she hovers above me. “You’re going to have to prove you’re right for the job.”
“Oh?” With a gasp, she takes me fully inside her body. I hiss out a breath as her pussy clenches around me, welcoming me home. “Then how about now?”
“Promising.” I thrust deep into her, and she gives a low, delicious moan. Taking her breasts into my hands, I trace my thumb along the sensitive skin around her peak. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to work harder than that.”
She does. Tessa rides me, starting slow. Her pussy is already wet, and as she fucks me she begins to make the softest, sexiest noises. I thrust in time with her gasps, tilting my head back as I fill her. How does it still feel this good? Why do I want her more with each fuck? These are amazing problems to have.
“Rafe.” Tessa whispers my name as she fucks harder. Her tits bounce and the bedsprings squeal beneath us. I pull her to lie pressed against me, tasting her mouth and her moans. One hand stays on her neck, the other clamps down on her thigh, allowing me to angle my thrusts. We’re locked together, she and I, moving in perfect synchronicity. We gasp in time with each other, the feel of her body spurring me on. Taking me higher. She breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes, her body luminous in the moonlight.
For years, she’s been my rock. More than that, she’s been the one thing forbidden to me. But now, she’s mine to taste and tease and fuck. To love.
The papers and tabloids have described me as a man with absolutely everything. But without her, it all means nothing.
“Rafe,” she breathes again, her voice growing high and weak. Her forehead creases as she nears an orgasm. “I’m going to come.”
“That’s it,” I murmur in her ear, picking up the pace. Her pussy is tight around me, begging me to stay inside. Her breasts are pressed against my chest as I fuck her harder, relishing her gasps and moans. “I want you to feel me, baby. I want you sore tomorrow. I want you to remember that you’re mine.”
“I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.” She kisses me deeply, moaning against my lips. “If you’re mine,” she whispers.
“Yes. Yes,” I grunt, speeding up. My h
ips thrust faster, my cock plunging in and out of her tight little pussy. Tessa pulls away to grip her fingers into my shoulders, tilting her head back as she rides me to the brink of ecstasy. She keeps calling my name as I rub her clit with my thumb. The world threatens to fracture as I near the precipice of my own orgasm. Then, Tessa erupts around me. With a high, moaning wail, she comes apart in my hands. I sit up, wrapping my arms around her waist as she bucks against my body. Spent, she watches me fuck her with half-lidded eyes.
My own orgasm shivers through me as well. In seconds, I’m calling her name as I come hard, as she holds me tight inside of her. Moaning, Tessa falls back against my chest as I lay down. We’re tangled in blankets, sweat still drying on our skin when the heat finally turns on with a click and a puff of ozone. Tessa’s nestled against the curve of my neck, tendrils of her damp hair stuck to her face. I brush them aside and kiss her, loving the ripe taste of her mouth.
“You are by far the best secretary in the entire city,” I murmur against her temple. She doesn’t miss a beat.
“I think we prefer to be called personal assistants now.”
I punish her smart mouth by kissing her harder and rolling her over onto her back. “Be right back.”
It takes me just seconds to hop across the icy floor to the bathroom to clean up. Back in bed, I lay on top of her. Feeling every inch of soft skin warming me up. Tessa sighs in pleasure as my body weighs her into the mattress. Her eyes gleaming, she trails a finger along my jaw.
“You won’t be an assistant forever, of course. Not after you publish your novel.”
She blinks in surprise. “Am I going to publish my novel?”