The Boss Man: A Steamy Contemporary Romantic Suspense Novel (The Manly Series Book 4)

Home > Other > The Boss Man: A Steamy Contemporary Romantic Suspense Novel (The Manly Series Book 4) > Page 7
The Boss Man: A Steamy Contemporary Romantic Suspense Novel (The Manly Series Book 4) Page 7

by Teddy Hester


  “Competition.” She washes down another bite. “Rumblings that AI crew isn’t any better that the Rio-Tex crew, and they shouldn’t be getting paid so much more than we are.”

  “Is that what you think, too?”

  “Naw. If I could, I’d try to get on with AI. The way they work together is amazing. It’s like an assembly line or something. While Rio-Tex guys stand around with their dicks in their hands, AI guys do one task and move on to the next. It’s impressive to me, but intimidating to some others, I guess.”

  “Have you talked to Mr. DePaul about hiring on?”

  She shakes her head. “Can’t. I’m a single parent.”

  “Wow, Nola, I had no idea. How old is he? She?”

  Her face shines, and her eyes glow. “Jamie’s just turned three. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  A baby. A child. I can’t even decide what to be when I grow up, much less think about helping a kid grow up, too. And Nola’s a couple of years younger than I am. “How do you work all night like this, and then go home to a child?”

  “It’s hard. But his abuela lives with us, so he’s got somebody with him. He doesn’t have to go to daycare. I feel good about that.”

  “Oh, it’s nice that your mom’s available and willing to help out.”

  A pang stabs my heart. If I ever have kids, they’ll never know my mom. At least not the way I knew her. She suffered brain damage from an allergic reaction to anesthesia a couple of years ago when her gall bladder had to be removed, and she’s been under the care of the live-in nurse ever since. I’m not sure my mom even recognizes any of us anymore. I miss her every day.

  “It’s my late husband’s mother, actually.”

  “He’s dead? What happened?” Maybe I’m getting too personal. “You don’t have to answer that.”

  She looks down at the table, shaking her head. “It’s fine. Hector was in the Army. He died in Afghanistan about two years ago.”

  “Oh, no. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. It was bad for a while. Widowed, with a baby. His mother, Delina, had nothing. He’d been taking care of her since he was sixteen. But I got a decent widow’s settlement from the government. That allowed me to buy a little house, and Delina moved in with us. We’re making it work.”

  I reach over and pat her hand. It can’t begin to convey how moved I am by her situation. What she went through, the responsibility she’s had. While I was away at college, partying and skipping as many classes as I could and still graduate. “I’m glad you have each other. And a good job. I had no idea. Wow.”

  She waves her hands back and forth. “Enough sad stuff. Tell me about your trip with Felix. Did he mention me?” Her mouth curves up in a coy smile, and she her eyelashes flutter. I bet men fall at her feet when she turns on that brand of charm. “Why aren’t you on a first-name basis with your sexy boss yet?”

  I laugh and hold up a finger to slow her down. “Give me some time to shift gears! I’m still adjusting to you being a mom.”

  “Come on, talk.”

  “I use Mr. DePaul at work. He ordered me to, actually.” I grin, remembering one of last night’s battles. “He’s DePaul other times. And, sorry, but there’s nothing to tell about my trip to Corpus with Felix. We got tools and tacos and never talked about anything in particular.”

  I’m not about to tell her what Felix said about Jack’s project. I’m not sure Felix should have been telling me in the first place. The whole thing seems sort of private, almost sacred or something. And with Felix planting the idea that maybe it shouldn’t be happening at all, it’s probably best if I just keep the info to myself.

  Nola’s face collapses. She lifts the bread off her sandwich and rearranges the lettuce. “Well, that’s disappointing. Maybe I could splatter paint on him and rush to help rub it off. That might make him notice me.”

  “I imagine he would! That clever trick might get you noticed right into the unemployment line.” I wad up my sandwich wrapping and stuff it back in the sack.

  “That wouldn’t be good.” She says it like a statement, but her eyes are asking a question.

  “No, that wouldn’t be good. Come on, we’re two sexy, savvy chicas. We’ll think of something so good, he won’t know what hit him.”

  Jack’s boots sound on the linoleum as he nears the office. I get a little rush, anticipating, and my fingers jerk over the laptop keys. When he walks through the office door, though, his brows beetle.

  “It’s after nine. Why aren’t you at the hotel asleep?”

  “Well, hello. Nice to see you, too.” Disappointment slithers through me. What did I expect? We had two meals together. That’s all. Just because my heart beats faster when he’s around, doesn’t mean he’s affected by me in any way. Except maybe irritation. He usually seems irritated to see me.

  Trouble is, I’ve been attracted to him from the first. Nothing’s changed that feeling. In fact, the more I’m around him, the more attractive he becomes. I thought a couple of times last night he felt it, too.

  He almost kissed me at the pumphouse pond. I hadn’t expected it. Didn’t even know I was still yearning for it. Until we were interrupted. Then I was glad we hadn’t crossed that line. But Felix’s information had been like pouring gasoline on the blaze burning through my body, firing up every nerve ending.

  Who knows what might have happened if the intercom hadn’t called his name?

  Who knows what might have happened if I hadn’t fallen asleep on the guy after breakfast…

  But here he is, barking at me again about how I should be at home, asleep in my lonely bed, like a good little girl.

  “If I wanted a lecture, DePaul, I have a dad who’d be only too happy to oblige.”

  He pulls off his hard hat and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not just that. I pay double-time for every hour you work over eight.”

  “You sayin’ I’m not worth it?”

  His jaw flexes. With a glance over his shoulder at me, he stalks to the timeclock and pulls out my card, ready to punch me out for the day. “You timed out at six.”

  “Yep.”

  “Shit.” He studies the timecard in his hand, then slips it back in its storage slot. “Okay, so why are you still here?”

  I roll my eyes. “Good grief, Jack-ass, for your sweet personality, what else?”

  Propping himself against his desk, long legs crossed at the ankle, the toe of his shoe is suddenly as fascinating as a girlie magazine, the way his eyes are glued to it. He chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, I figured.”

  It’s almost an apology, I guess. Or as close to it as the men I know get. “I used the extra time interviewing a couple of people on the day shift.”

  He lets that soak in before he pushes off the desk. “Good thinking.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “You hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “Didn’t you eat dinner?”

  “Are you being my dad again?”

  “Answer me.”

  “Are you gonna spank me if I don’t?”

  I just might.

  Shit, ever since last night, putting her in bed but not following her right into it, I’ve been battling with myself and my no-fraternization rule. Here I thought it would be such a good idea to hire her, put us into a work situation where I’ve never had trouble controlling myself before. It’s so much worse, seeing her every day, being around her, having the guys flock to her, reminding me how desirable she is. The harder I try to shove her out of my mind, the more I end up thinking about her.

  There’s only so much a man can take.

  I avoided temptation all day, even though it meant holding my crew meeting somewhere other than the pumphouse. But here she is, practically offering up that sweet ass. The palms of my hands fairly itch to slide over those rounded cheeks. It sets my teeth on edge, I want her so bad.

  “I’m heading for breakfast. You can join me if you want.”

  “How can I r
esist such a charming invitation?”

  Not my smoothest move. But desire is twisting me all up. Seems like hunger of one sort or another is all my body and brain’s registering right now.

  Her stride matches mine as we stalk to the parking lot. We make the trek in record time. The look she throws me as she unlocks her car is triumphant. Like she showed me she can keep up with me. That she’s a match for me.

  I hope so.

  I bet she is.

  I’m dying to find out.

  Practically obsessed.

  We zoom away from the plant, playing transportation leap frog all the way to the diner. I’m pulling into the parking space beside hers when Jilly steps out of her car, drapes herself over its roof, and snares me with a cocky smile.

  She licks her bottom lip. “Still hungry?”

  My cock stirs and growls. Surely she doesn’t mean what that sounds like. She can’t be challenging me, can she? “Depends.”

  Her lids go half-mast. “You’re not going to say something cheesy like ‘what’s on the menu,’ are you?”

  The woman should know better than to wave her coy, red cape in front of this bull. I lean back against my truck, arms splayed across the bed rails and stand, giving her a view of what’s happening below my belt. Her gasp, small as it is, quickens my blood. She arches her back like the little wildcat I know she is.

  To hell with it.

  I’ve got to have her. Now.

  Stalking around the back of her car, I drag her into my arms. “I’m not askin’.”

  Deliberately not thinking through the wisdom of the move, I close my mouth over hers, devouring, pouring hours and days of lust into every millimeter of contact. When she returns everything I’m giving her, gripping me hard around the neck, and gobbling me up with those luscious lips on mine, I’m a goner.

  “Fuck breakfast.” My voice sounds rough as sandpaper.

  “I’d rather you fuck me.”

  Willpower evaporates. I rip open the driver door and practically shove her inside the car, crowding her into the passenger seat when I crawl into the behind her. At the last minute, I remember to lock up my bike and grab my helmet.

  Thank my lucky stars that the hotel is nearby, because once I’m back in the car, her hands are all over me. If mine weren’t gripping the steering wheel, making sure we actually get to our destination, I’d have her stripped by now.

  In fact, I have half her clothes unfastened before she gets her room door open and we fall inside. With about as much finesse as two armadillos, we get naked. Scooping her up, cradle-style, I rip back the covers and toss her onto the bed. When I cover her heated body with mine, the lust drives me hard. I’m a horny kid again, dying to get my rocks off inside my girl.

  ‘My girl’ echoes inside my head. “Are you safe?”

  “Yes,” she pants. “Are you? God, you’re so hard. I need you inside me.”

  Her plea surges through me along with an extra dose of testosterone. I’m going to need it, the way her hips are gyrating under me. She wants me as much as I want her.

  I dip my head to suckle a tight, strawberry bud of her nipple and slide a hand between us. She’s slick with want. I can’t hold back. My girl needs me.

  There it is again. My girl. Is that what Jilly Vickers is? The thought distracts me, slows me down.

  But Jilly’s not having any part of that. She digs her wildcat claws into my backside, demanding action.

  I fit myself against her opening, drink in her fevered mewl, and surge inside, burying myself to the hilt. She’s hot and she’s tight, and I’m gonna lose what little of my mind is still functioning.

  Fuck, that feels good.

  “Jack,” she sighs, clenching me with her inner muscles.

  Feeling her adjusting to me, testing my size and strength, sampling what I have to give her, I’m a growling beast.

  The urge to thrust is blinding me. I press deeper. Her legs lift to circle my waist, a welcome lariat, roping me in.

  It’s like she’s put spurs to me. I thrust hard and fast, setting a relentless rhythm. She meets me, grinding against me every time I bottom out inside her.

  “You’re getting bigger,” she whispers in my ear and licks my neck before tugging on the lobe with teeth just sharp enough to keep my beast ravenous.

  “You feel even better than I dreamed you would.” I slide my arms around under her shoulders, and fold her tighter into me. It’s like we’re merging our whole bodies.

  I want to live here forever. Die in just this position, feeling this close, this connected, this absorbed by someone else.

  Something expands in my chest, and I squeeze her harder, trying to contain it. I’ve never felt this before. It’s…unnerving. My chest is about to explode into a thousand pieces, and I don’t want to stop it.

  Her hands clutch at my backside, holding me in against her. “I’m close. I’m close.”

  She’s strong. I feel the power building in her. I have her pinned to the bed, skewered, yet she’s taken charge, signaling me to still. She’s controlling us, working hard, reaching for her finish. Her walls begin to flutter around my hard length, and I have to move. A small, deep thrust, with a long, hard grind against her clit. Like she’s masturbating herself with my pelvis. She’s so tight around me, I can barely move.

  Suddenly, she’s there, pulsing her orgasm. I bury my nose against her neck and ride it out with her, letting her use my body however she needs. My own climax hits while she’s still coming. She whimpers as I let loose inside her in bursts of welcome relief, emptying me while filling her.

  The sensations roll through me like shock waves. We hold on to each other to the end, fused in the tumult.

  I couldn’t let go of my girl right now if I wanted to.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Seven Days to Deadline

  Please don’t move off me. I love the way you curl around me in bed like you did on the dance floor. Let me bask in this amazing afterglow. I’ve never felt so cherished.

  Suddenly, his body goes slack around me. It takes a couple of minutes for me to realize what’s happened.

  He’s fallen asleep.

  On top of me.

  Still inside me.

  His breathing is soft and slow in my ear, head buried in my neck.

  This man. A big kid who’s played so hard he collapses where he is, too tired to get up and go to bed. This man I shouldn’t let myself feel anything for, because he’s going to be gone in a week.

  My hand drifts up, gently stroking the muscles lying in thick pads over his shoulder. He doesn’t stir.

  How tired he must be. And how relaxed he is right now. He deserves it. He works hard. Provides livelihoods. He might even revolutionize greening in the energy business. No small feat for anyone, much less someone still in his twenties, with his own obscure company, taking enormous risks. If he can find rest and a moment’s peace with me, then that’s a good thing.

  My heart swells, and it’s all I can do to keep from squeezing him tight.

  But I don’t want to wake him. Because when he wakes up, things will be different. The way we see each other will have changed. This wasn’t just a quick hook-up after a pool party. At least not for me.

  I want us to stay right where we are. I want to memorize the feel of his weight on me, his warm, hard body draped on mine, his musky man smell filling my senses. Memorize everything from his head to the feet all tangled up with mine right now.

  I want to analyze and tuck away how I feel, cocooned and cozy. Loose-limbed and glowing. Our hearts beating together, like they belong that way.

  What am I saying? I don’t know Jack DePaul. I have no business feeling anything about him. I’m just intrigued. Suffering from the new-guy-in-town syndrome.

  He’s certainly different from other men I’ve met close to my age. Look at Felix. He’s almost the same age as Jack. But Felix is still a kid, figuring out who to be.

  My brother, Rafe, the same age as Jack, runs the cattle herd for the family b
usiness. But he doesn’t carry the responsibility alone. Neither does Chaz with the grapefruit groves. We all have Dad to fall back on. We all answer to him.

  But Jack? Jack’s his own man.

  I stroke down his sides, fingers hungry to touch more. He’s so vulnerable right now, cuddled against me. Letting me see a side of him he holds back. A side I doubt he shows others very often. That’ll definitely be gone when we go back to work.

  When it’s just us, though? Will he show me this tender side of himself again?

  I sure hope so. I get enough of men’s confident swagger at home. Men who think tenderness and vulnerability are signs of weakness.

  Who store it inside themselves until they forget to share it at all.

  Jack’s on his way. Tight-lipped. Closed off.

  Whispers of sensation trail over my back. I come to consciousness through a haze of marshmallow fluff—everything all sweet and tantalizing and definitely delicious.

  Damn. My first time with Jillian, and I pounce on her like she’s Thanksgiving dinner. Complete with passing out after the meal.

  Way to make a woman feel special. The least I could have done was push away from the table first. My weight must be crushing her.

  But everything feels so good right now. If either of us moves, the spell will break. And I’m not ready for that. The way she’s stroking my back, it’s like she’s peeling away layers of weight and worry.

  She must feel it, too, because when I do attempt to rise, her fingers dig into my sides. But instead of urging me to sink back into oblivion, they’re gouging me with reality.

  There’s never been a time I was so wrapped up in lust for a girl that I couldn’t walk away from her. Certainly no woman has ever come close to making me lose focus on my business.

  But Jillian Vickers? I wanted her with white-hot hunger the first time I saw her. When I held her close on the dance floor, felt the way our bodies melded, I knew right then something was different about this woman. If I’d had the sense God gave a flea, I should’ve said my polite goodnights and left her right then.

 

‹ Prev