Boss Unyielding: A Secret Baby Office Romance (The Boss Series Book 1)

by Nicole R. Locker

  He was doing a fine job of distracting himself until the moment he heard the rustling outside in the hallway in the direction of her room. The thought of Bartolo putting his fresh, Italian hands all over her made him see hot-iron red, made the blood boil in his veins, had him opening the door to the hallway before he even realized he’d gotten out of bed. Seeing them in a lustful embrace had the heat building in his chest, threatening to explode like the wrath of a fire-breathing dragon.

  Only the sound of her sweet voice after Bartolo was out of sight managed to calm the rage inside him. The rage that, given the opportunity, he could focus into a barrage of intense, satisfying, relentless pleasure rocking through her body and his own.

  He ran himself a quick, cool shower before going back to bed.

  ***

  “What a day,” Farren said with an exultant smile as she climbed into the back seat of the car.

  Rayner entered from the other side and closed his door behind him. He turned around with a look of delight. “Yes, it was. Our hard work has paid off, and it’s time to celebrate,” he said in a tone that sounded almost elated, especially for him.

  They had gotten the DeGradi contract, the deal was sealed, and they had one more evening in Italy before they left for home the following morning. Tonight, Rayner had every intention of letting loose with his business for the trip behind him.

  He gave instructions to the driver on where to take them, and the car set off on its way to the hotel.

  “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

  “There’s an exclusive nightclub in Central Rome. I haven’t been there the past few times I’ve visited, but it’s a great place to have a drink,” he explained.

  “Mr. Rayner, the party animal,” she teased, hoping to keep his smile from fading for just a while longer.

  He looked at her and his eyes were soft. “Call me Rogan, Farren.”

  She wasn’t sure what it meant, if anything, that he was offering her such a gesture. It felt like a teacher who let his students call him by his first name. It made the relationship more personal, right or wrong. Maybe she was giving it more significance than there really was, she thought.

  “Rogan,” she repeated, nodding with an unsure and timid smile.

  They headed to the hotel to get changed into their evening-wear, but were stopped in the lobby by a clerk running the front desk.

  “Miss Fields? There is a note here for you,” the young man said, pulling a small, sealed envelope from a drawer in front of him.

  Confused, she looked at Rayner… Rogan… with an unspoken question. He shrugged, and led the way toward the counter where the young man handed her the note.

  “Thank you,” she said to him, and she and Rogan walked to the elevator together.

  Once inside the elevator, Rogan asked, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  She wasn’t sure why she felt nervous, almost guilty, but least of all, curious. She ran her fingers beneath the flap of the envelope and pulled out the note from within.

  “It’s from Bartolo Bianchi,” she told him. “He’s asked to see me tonight before I leave tomorrow.

  Rogan’s jaw clenched. “And what will you tell him?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  The remainder of the elevator ride was silent, the high of their earlier win seeming to have faded with the appearance of Bartolo’s note. When they got to Farren’s door, Rogan stopped.

  “Come with me tonight,” he said. It wasn’t an order. It almost sounded, she thought, like a question. A request.

  She turned from her door key and looked up into his eyes. He was only standing maybe two feet away from her, and she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body.

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  She watched a smile work its way across his face, reveal the small creases in the outer corners of his eyes.

  “Okay.” He turned and strode to his room.

  She slid her key card and went inside to find what to wear, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt different about Rayner tonight. Was it their triumph with the DeGradi deal? What else could it be? She wondered, and her thoughts came up empty.

  He wanted her to spend the evening with him, to celebrate, to have drinks. Given the choice between spending her last night in Italy with either Bartolo Bianchi or Rogan Rayner, God, she wanted it to be Rogan. There was no question, except would her heart thank her or hate her for it later?

  She was about to find out.

  TWELVE

  The nightclub was crowded for a weeknight, Farren thought. It was upscale, though, and she found herself in awe of the ritzy decor, the marble floors, and the crystal glasses they drank from. She could hardly complain about the music being so loud, because Rogan had to get really close to her to speak directly in her ear to be heard. The whole experience was intoxicating.

  “Can I get you another drink?” Rogan asked, picking up her empty wine glass.

  She considered for a moment, then agreed to one more. It would probably have to be her last, judging from the giddy feeling she already had. Could she really blame that solely on the wine, though? He left her standing at their small, round table that was just big enough for two people to occupy as he strode to the bar to order another round of their drinks.

  Once he was away with his attention on the bar, a pair of men walked past Farren, one of them giving her a seductive look when she made eye contact. He had definitely been checking her out. She felt herself flush with modesty. She wasn’t used to so much attention as she had gotten since being in Italy. Maybe she should come here more often, she thought, jokingly.

  Rogan returned and his hand brushed hers as she took her fresh wine glass from him. There had been several of those small touches since they’d gotten here tonight, and every little touch seemed to electrify her skin at their point of contact.

  He was wearing a mischievous smile, she noticed, so she had to ask. “What’s so funny?”

  He moved close to her, brushing her hair back from her ear and leaned in. “It seems I can’t take you anywhere without men undressing you with their eyes,” he told her, and his lips just grazed the soft flesh above her lobe. She found herself wanting to open up to him, to tilt her head to the side to give him access for even more contact, but had to stop herself.

  She smiled and chuckled, shaking her head in denial. “I think you have it backwards. Have you noticed the women circling around you like vultures, just waiting for the opportunity to get you alone?”

  His hand went to the small of her back, and when she didn’t shy away from him, he let it travel just lower to rest above her hip. God, if he knew what that was doing to her. The more he touched her, the more she wanted him to touch her.

  “Well, in case they haven’t noticed, I’m not alone,” he said, drawing her eyes to his, weaving her into some kind of magical spell.

  She struggled to swallow down her nerves and gave a timid laugh. “No, I don’t suppose you are.” Was that all she could think of to say? She was so flustered, she had to get a grip on herself, and she was giving herself a mental face-palm.

  He was the first to look away, and she took the opportunity to take a gulp or two of wine. At the rate they were going, she would need a lot more of the stuff to make it through the night. When she went to set the glass down on the table, it tipped over and streams of red wine went flowing in every direction.

  She jumped back trying to avoid staining her clothes and covered her mouth with both hands, embarrassed that she had just made such a mess. She looked up at Rogan who looked as though he were trying to hold back a laugh, but once their eyes met, they both erupted in a fit of laughter. He grabbed a napkin and pulled her close to inspect her body for any signs of the dark liquid he might need to dab off.

  “I’m so sorry about that. Apparently, you can add clumsy to my laundry list of quirks,” she said. “I hope I didn’t ruin this outfit. I’m sure you paid quite a bit for these clothes.”

 
He shook his head with indifference. “I’ve yet to see any of your quirks to be anything but endearing.”

  A waitress made her way over with a cloth to clean up the spill, and Farren’s embarrassment for causing the mess was still evident in the flush on her face.

  He must have noticed her discomfort. “You want to get out of here?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  He handed a bill to the waitress, 100 Euros, and he took Farren’s hand to lead her through the crowd and out of the club. Once outside, they took a cab back to the hotel.

  “It’s weird seeing you like this, you know,” she admitted on the way back.

  “Like what?”

  She gestured to him like there was something tangible about him she could pinpoint to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come as easily. “This… I don’t know. You’re normally so dark and brooding, so serious. Tonight, you’re… different.”

  She wondered who else ever got to see this side of him, and wished she could see it more often. She wasn’t so deluded to think the Insensitive Ass-hole was gone for good, but since this new, fun, light-hearted Rogan Rayner was here for the moment, she would enjoy him while she could.

  He shrugged. “By dark and brooding, I hope you mean professional. I do have important work I usually have to tend to, but for the moment, everything is done until we return home tomorrow.”

  “Then I’m sorry I ended your night out so soon,” she said, lowering her head with the shame she felt for ruining what little down time he had.

  He reached to put his fingers beneath her chin and in a tender gesture, lifted her face back up and towards him. “Don’t do that. Don’t be sorry. I’m exactly where I want to be right now,” he said.

  Confusion filled her eyes. So many touches and personal gestures from him tonight clouded her judgment. There was no way he could be coming on to her, but damn if it didn’t feel like he was. Maybe it was all in her overactive imagination. His hand was gone as quickly as it had materialized on her skin, just as they pulled up to the hotel entrance.

  When he stopped outside her hotel room as she dug for her room key again, she noticed he had been quiet, pensive even, on the way up to their floor.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked him. The corners of his lips were turned up just slightly, so she didn’t get the idea he was angry, but she thought she would ask just to be sure.

  “Yes, everything is fine, Farren.”

  The way her name rolled off his tongue in the deep, husky voice he had sent shivers through her body. He shoved his hands in his pockets, which she thought was unusual for him, too, but pretty much nothing about this night was usual.

  “Okay, well, goodnight then,” she said, hesitating before she pushed the door open.

  “Goodnight,” he repeated, but continued to lean his shoulder against the wall next to her.

  She smiled, then pushed the door open and inched her way inside her room. Turning back towards the hallway, she said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He nodded, then stood up straight and turned to stroll unhurriedly toward his own room. He heard her door click shut behind him, and the world fell quiet. All except the fever of thoughts barraging through his mind.

  Every cell in his body wanted him to turn around. It was wrong, though. He was her boss, and therefore she was off limits. He knew it was wrong. He couldn’t act on his selfish desires.

  Selfish. He laughed to himself. There was nothing selfish about what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to tease and worship her body, push her beyond her limits of pleasure. He wanted to stroke the curves of her smooth skin until she writhed with want beneath him.

  He reached his door and slid the card key to unlock it. He watched the green light flash in succession, then back to red. He didn’t move.

  “Fuck it,” he said, turning back toward the direction of her door, taking long strides in a rush to get back to her.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  She had just kicked off her shoes and was going for the clasp behind her neck to unhook and remove her shirt when she heard the knock on the door. She had stood behind it for what seemed like minutes, her heart pounding, knowing she wanted more. A part of her wanted to run down the hall and stop Rogan from leaving. She wanted to see if he would turn her away if she just went for it and kissed him. She wanted so much for him to just stay with her and take her in his arms.

  When the moment had passed, she resigned to getting ready for bed. Now, she was walking to the door to see who was knocking.

  She didn’t think to ask who it was. She just pulled the door open, and suddenly, his big, strong arms were around her, pulling her to him, and his mouth was claiming hers. Instinct took over, and she parted her lips to allow his kiss to deepen.

  His hands were in her long, brown hair, and he began brushing it away from her shoulders before he snaked his arms around her waist, trailing his splayed fingers down her body, and cupping her ass, just before lifting her up onto him so that her legs wrapped around his waist.

  With her wrapped tightly around him, he backed out of the room, carried her down the hall and into his own room, closing the door behind them.

  THIRTEEN

  Rogan carried Farren through his dark hotel suite, into the bedroom as she clung to him like her life depended on it. His eyes were intense and looking straight into hers with her forehead pressed to his. Their lips hovered dangerously close to the others’, and their quickened breathing was the only audible sound either of them made.

  In the soft light cast by the moon that shone through the window, she brushed her thumb over the scar just below his lower lip, then peppered kisses on and around it until finally landing one long, languid kiss on his mouth, tasting the soft flesh as she pulled it into her mouth, gently sucking and nipping.

  He approached the King bed and reluctantly released her. She slid down the front of his body, reveling in the contact, unwilling to put any more space between them than she had to. She could feel the rock-hard muscles of his chest and abs through the fabric of her clothes and his, and the thought of touching his bare skin had her clawing at the buttons on his shirt, just as he brushed his large hands down the sides of her body to slip beneath the hem of her shirt and pull it up over hear head. She lifted her arms up just long enough to allow him to remove it, and then she went right back to unfastening the remainder of his buttons.

  He caressed his hands down the smooth skin of her back, leaving a path of chill bumps as they went, and then he allowed her to push his shirt off his shoulders. The shirt no sooner hit the ground than his lips were claiming hers once more, and he pressed forward, guiding her back onto the bed.

  He ran his hand up the middle of her stomach until he came to the soft mounds of her breasts. His fingers worked their way beneath the underwire of her bra, and she found herself holding her breath as he grazed the sensitized flesh of her nipples.

  She almost felt disappointed when his hands abandoned their delicious massaging and trailed back down her body, until he slid them down, hooking his fingers on the waist of her jeans and panties, slipping them down her long, smooth legs.

  He climbed onto the bed, hovering above her with his arms holding him up from either side of her body. She was aching for his touch, and he obliged, bringing his lips down to her neck, tasting her soft flesh with a gentle caress of his tongue.

  He settled between her legs, which she quickly wrapped around him again, leveraging him closer to her, and the hard bulge in his pants pressed into her, rubbed against her most sensitive flesh, making her ache for him even more. He wasn’t about to let it happen that quick, though, and he took his time, exploring her body with his hands, with his mouth, unhooking her bra and grazing it off of her in slow, unhurried movements.

  When he noticed her trying to work his pants down, he rose off her and stood, making quick work of removing his slacks, then climbed back onto the bed beside her, leaning on his right elbow with his right hand cupping the back of her h
ead. His left hand pressed to her abdomen, fingers splayed, and he pressed into her flesh, moving it downward with a delicious pressure that, once he reached her mound, had her moaning with desire and pleasure.

  His lips pressed to hers, pliant but assertive, only seconds before he thrust a firm finger onto the throbbing nub of her clit, and he swallowed her soft cries of delight as the sensations rocked through her body. Just before she found her release, his hand moved from its gratifying ministrations and left her aching, begging for more.

  “Oh, God, please don’t stop,” she cried, breathless.

  And though her pleas went unanswered, he shifted, pulling her up to straddle him where he sat on the bed. She quickly complied, pressing her body against his, flesh against flesh, taking in the warmth of his bare skin on hers. She could feel his erection beneath her, and all of her feminine parts were screaming for him to press it into her.

  She traced her hands over the dark tattoos that covered his chest, arms, and back. The curves of his muscles were like nothing she had ever felt before, so strong and powerful beneath her that she could feel her body trembling in his arms. She found herself drawn to him, wanting to drink him in as she pressed her lips to the stubble peppering his jaw. Her hands roamed freely over the hard, defined lines and smooth grooves of his chest, memorizing every curve of his body and committing them to her memory.

  He stroked her hair back behind her shoulders and took her breast into his mouth, circling the soft, warm flesh of his tongue around it. She began circling her hips, grinding into him, needing the one thing he hadn’t given her.

  “Rogan, please, please…” Make love to me, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t let the words escape her. She wasn’t about to ruin it now.

  He grabbed her hips, pressing his fingers into her skin, steadying her, but the red-hot desire, the burning need inside her making her want him to press into her elsewhere would not be quelled.