Breaking up with My Boss: An Enemies to Lovers, Office Romance (Love You Forever Book 4)

by Alexis Winter

  “Are you scared?” I lean in and whisper.

  “No,” she replies quickly. “Yes,” she admits soon after.

  “Want to hold my hand?” I ask in a teasing tone. I hold it up, but she scoots her body up, wedging herself between the back of the couch and my side. She rests her head on my shoulder and holds the blanket just below her eyes. Her heat sinks into me and warms me in ways I didn’t know I could be warmed. She smells sweet and delicious, nearly making my mouth water thinking about actually being able to taste her. Her breathing picks up and I turn to look at her. Her eyes meet mine and I can see the fear and excitement in them. I lose myself in her eyes, unable to tell if they’re darkening due to the darkness in the room or something else.

  Without thinking, I close the distance between us. My lips find hers and she sucks in a loud breath. All too quickly, she pushes me away.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, shocked.

  I let out a long breath, annoyed with myself. “I just thought . . .” I’m unable to finish.

  “Well, you thought wrong!” She stands up and starts pacing in front of me. “We can’t let this happen. This isn’t real, remember?” She motions between us.

  I’m suddenly too annoyed, so I stand up as well, with the coffee table between us. “I’m sorry. It just seemed like you were into me.”

  “And how did you draw that conclusion?” It’s easy to tell by her tone of voice that she’s mad—but whether mad at me or herself, I don’t know.

  “How?” I yell. “We danced last night and you didn’t act like you didn’t want me to touch you. Then today, we had a great day—we had fun together. Then when we got home, you suggested staying home, and then you put on that.” I motion toward her body.

  She looks down at herself then back up at me. “Are you saying that because I dressed like this, it’s the only excuse you needed to kiss me? That I was asking for it?”

  I roll my eyes. “Fuck, Poppy. I thought you were into me and giving me hints. I mean, what else is that outfit supposed to mean?”

  “It’s not an outfit. I’m wearing pajamas, and it means I’m not used to living with anyone else and it’s all I have to sleep in. God . . .” Her hands move up to tangle in her hair.

  “Then what’s with your eyes? Huh? The closer we’ve been getting lately, the darker they’ve been.”

  “They’re my eyes! I don’t control their color.”

  “I thought the color change meant you were . . . turned on or something,” I let the words fall from my mouth in a hushed tone.

  She laughs.

  “Look, if I have it all wrong, I’m sorry. But you have to admit you’ve been throwing me some pretty strong signals.”

  “What signals?” she yells.

  “Are you saying you don’t want me to kiss you?” I ask, stepping around the table. “Because if you tell me you don’t want me to kiss you, I won’t do it ever again. Is that what you want?” I ask, walking closer.

  “This thing we’re doing is confusing our bodies. I don’t want us getting lost in that,” she says, but I didn’t hear an answer in that.

  “Do you want me to kiss you? Yes or no?” I ask again.

  “Matthew, this shouldn’t happen.” Again with the deflecting.

  I step up to her and level my eyes on hers. They’re dark again with a hint of blue. “Yes or no?” I ask deeply, slowly.

  Her eyes stay locked on mine and her shoulders fall as she breathes out. “Yes.”

  That’s all I needed to hear. My arms wrap around her. I place one on her lower back, pulling her chest to mine. The other is on the back of her head, tangling in her hair and bringing her lips right where I need them. When our lips touch, it’s like a fire igniting—a flash burn. The heat consumes my lips then my face before quickly moving throughout my entire body. Her lips part and my tongue slides inside her mouth. When it brushes against hers, I pick her up against me and she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips.

  I step forward, pressing her against the wall so my hands are finally free to roam her body. I squeeze her ass, her hips, her thighs. All the while, our kiss never breaks; it only gains intensity. Her fingers thread into my hair, gently tugging against the roots as she nips my lower lip. I can feel the pinch between her teeth, but there’s no pain. All I can think about is sliding into her, owning her.

  I’m not sure how far she’ll let this go, though, so I want to take it slow and give her the time she needs to process what we’re doing, and what it could mean for us. Her arms fall from my neck, but I find them quickly pushing my shirt up my stomach and chest. I remove my hands from her for a moment—only long enough to rip the shirt over my head. Our kiss breaks, but the moment the shirt’s off, she moves right back in. She kisses me hard and fast, like she’s starving for air and I’m the only source.

  I kiss across her cheek, down to her jaw, and to her neck while my hands push up her little tank top. Apparently, I’m moving too slowly for her, so she reaches for it herself, tearing it up over her head and exposing her bouncing breasts to me. Fuck, they’re perfect. They’re full and round—the perfect handful. The skin of her breasts is slightly lighter than her neck and arms, which tells me she likes to get a lot of sun. The tan line is sexy as fuck, though, and I can’t help but stare at them, frozen. Her nipples are tiny, hard, and the perfect rose color that reminds me of raspberries.

  I move my lips to her collarbone, slowly making my way toward her exposed chest. As I kiss the swell of her breasts, my hands move up to cup and caress them. I kiss lower and lower until I can suck a hard nipple into my mouth. When I flick my tongue against her, she lets out a whimper that drives me mad.

  She doesn’t ask me to, but I quickly pull her away from the wall and carry her into my room. We collapse onto the mattress, still tangled up in each other. I kiss lower, to her toned stomach, then to her hips, where her shorts get in the way. Pulling my knees up underneath me, I begin tugging on the material, slowly yanking them down her hips. I don’t stop until they’re completely off, getting tossed on the floor.

  I pick up her knee and press a kiss to the inside, kissing my way up to the junction between her parted legs. I move to the other knee, starting the process all over again. This time, when I get to her core, I slide my fingers into the waistband of her panties and push them down. She’s finally fully exposed to me and I want to laugh at her lightning bolt, but I don’t. The only thing I can think about is tasting her—finding out if she’s as sweet as I’ve been imagining.

  “Beautiful,” I whisper, taking her in.

  I move my mouth to her center, running my tongue between her folds, and her sweetness hits me like I’ve just bitten into a luscious peach. When I flick my tongue against her clit, her hands turn into fists, the sheet balled up in them. She lets out a soft whimper, and her knees—which are on either side of my head—begin to tremble.

  If I’m honest, pleasuring a woman orally has never been my favorite part of a sexual experience, but watching her melt under my touch is driving me wild. These months of watching her, waiting for her, and wanting her, have only let me imagine this moment and the things I’d do to her given the chance. And I plan on checking off every damn item on my list tonight.

  As my mouth works her over, her breathing gets harder and louder. Her legs shake more violently and her back begins to arch upward. I hold her hips down where I need them and push her over the edge, enjoying every minute I have her honeyed sweetness on my tongue.

  When she goes limp beneath me, I remove myself from her, kissing my way back up her body as I work to free myself from my pajama bottoms. I’m on my knees, hovering over her, pushing my pants down my hips, but she places her hands on my chest and pushes me back. I lose my balance and topple over. I’m surprised and caught off guard, wondering if she’s finally seen the light. Did I finally push her too far? Is she going to run away from me now? But instead of getting up and running away from me, she moves between my legs. Perched on her knees befo
re me, her dark eyes lock on mine. I haven’t lost her yet.

  Fifteen

  Poppy

  I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t give myself a second to think about it. I don’t want to think about how this could complicate things for us tomorrow, or how this could affect the rest of the agreement we have in place. But deep down, I don’t care. I’ve seen more of the real Matthew than ever before. He’s bared his soul to me without even realizing it, and because of that, I see the man he is, and I need him more than ever.

  He seems surprised when I push him away from me. He’s wearing a panicked expression like he doesn’t know if I’m about to run off or break down and cry. But neither is the case. I’ve dreamed of this day for so long now that there’s no way I’m not getting what I want. And what I want is to feel him beneath me. I want to know how soft his skin is, how hard he can get, and what he tastes like. I reach out and wrap my hand around his massive length, slowly moving it up and down.

  He lets out a hushed breath and his head falls back against the pillows. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. Like me, he just looks to be enjoying something he’s thought about for so long now. I don’t give myself time to think about that, considering I thought he hated me most days. I lean forward, sliding his tip into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around it and his head pops up to watch me. I feel his muscles begin to harden—his thighs beneath my arms, and the stomach muscles I can see when I look up.

  Slowly, I take him deeper and deeper, all the way to the back of my throat. I suck and swirl and repeat the process, bobbing my head along his length. His breathing picks up and his hand flies to the back of my head, fingers tangling into my hair. He tugs slightly but not painfully. It’s just the hardened edge I need. His hips start to lift with my movements, like he can’t bear the thought of me removing myself from him. His breathing gets louder as his lips part, and even though his head is still up, his eyes are closed, blinded by too much passion to watch me.

  “Oh, fuck. You have to stop,” he says in a pleading tone. “Stop or I’m going to cum in that pretty mouth of yours.” His tone is one of a weak man, like he’s hanging on for dear life and suddenly asking for forgiveness for all of his past sins.

  I keep going, yearning to taste him on my tongue. “Fuck, Poppy,” he breathes out, his head finally falling back against the pillows. He lets out a moan that has my stomach muscles tightening, and soon after, he’s spilling himself. Hot ribbons fill my mouth, and I swallow them down as I continue to work for more. His hips are suddenly mad and have a mind of their own as they lift and fall and become erratic. I take every gush he gives me, not pulling away until there’s nothing left.

  When I pull away, I wipe my mouth as I look up at him. His chest is rising and falling quickly and his eyes are closed so tightly that wrinkles and creases are forming around them. While he recovers, I bend down, kissing the hard muscles of his six-pack, working my way up. By the time I reach his chest, he’s hard again. I lean over and open his bedside drawer. My assumptions are correct and I grab a condom. I tear it open and slide it down him. Finally, I climb on top of him and his hands find my hips as I position myself right where I need to be.

  Without warning, his hands pull me down and his cock slides into my wetness, connecting us as one. We both let out a sound of relief at finally being welded together. I go to lift myself up, but he holds me down. “Hold on,” he whispers, trying to get control of himself.

  I’m wound so tightly that my muscles begin to tighten and release around him. The hold he has on my hips begins to lighten and I start slowly moving up and down.

  “You’re so fucking amazing,” he breathes out, bringing his lips back to mine. Adding the kiss to the sensations already flooding my body has my hips moving more quickly. One hand leaves my hip to cup my breast, where he massages and kneads it, his thumb grazing back and forth over my hardened nipple.

  I feel my release building as I grind against him, his pubic hair adding sensation to my needy clit. I moan into his mouth and his hands are back on my hips, tightening as they move me faster. My release builds high and shatters, raining down on me like hot lava—thick, fast, and unrelenting. I ride out every last wave of pleasure, and just as I collapse, he rolls us over and picks up the slack.

  My legs open wide, giving him the room he needs to thrust into me as hard as he can. Every single one of his muscles is tight and hard, rippling with his movements. He pushes forward and the headboard bangs off the wall with a loud thud, but that doesn’t stop him from doing it again and again. His thrusts become harder, pushing me up the bed with each one, and even though his size is enough to cause pain, the added pressure mixes with my release and creates a delicious cocktail, and I’m suddenly parched, ready to consume it.

  “You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes out, not missing a beat. It only takes a few more minutes before we’re both completely lost in each other.

  My eyes flutter open in the morning and I look around the room. I see a dark wooden bedside table, the entrance to a bathroom that doesn’t look familiar, and a pressed suit hanging on the closet door. This isn’t my room. I try to move but feel stiff and sore. That’s when the night before comes flooding back to me. I remember every touch, every kiss, every heavy breath. I remember the sensations that flooded my body—the blinding passion and need. Everything was amazing in that moment, but how will today go?

  Will he pretend that nothing happened? Will our arrangement be over now that he’s gotten what I didn’t even know he wanted? Will this be some kind of turning point for our relationship? I don’t know and I’m suddenly nervous, waiting to find out. I roll to my back and look up at the white ceiling. I turn my head to the side and see his sleeping form: his thick, dark hair, his strong, muscular back, the top of his toned ass before the sheet cuts it off from my view.

  I roll to my side to face his back, and something inside me is begging for more. I want to run my fingertips down his spine and move over to those little dimples on either side of it. I want to scoot closer and press my naked chest to his bare back, then wrap my arm around his waist and let it fall beneath the sheet to see how excited he is to be waking up. I want him to roll into my touch, onto his back with his sleepy smile in place. I want to climb on top of him again and relive last night and make sure it wasn’t a dream.

  The stiffness in my body tells me it wasn’t a dream, but it was so perfect that it must have been. Everything about last night is what dreams are made of. The way he touched me, the way he seemed to sense what I needed before I had to ask, the way he kissed me full of passion and need and want. I want to hear all of the words he said: “perfect, amazing, beautiful.”

  My skin flushes when I think about last night. It burns with need again. I scoot myself to his back and wrap my arm around his waist, my hand finding his silky-soft cock. I wrap my hand around it, slowly moving it up and down. He lets out a sleepy moan and his breathing picks up, no longer deep and rhythmic. He rolls to his back and his dark eyes open. They find mine and the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. Instead of saying anything, he just pulls my mouth to his and allows me to take my place on top of him. His hands tour my body—touching my breasts and hips, then running a finger between my folds to spread my wetness. He knows exactly when I need a firm grab and a soft caress, and before I know it, he’s filling me again. This time, it’s much slower, more teasing.

  He sits up and wraps one arm around my waist, lifting me up and dropping me down again while his mouth never leaves mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him like he’s the air I need to breathe. His dark hair is a mess from my hands running through it, and he has a dark shadow on his angular jaw. His hooded eyes are filled with lust, and just looking at him has me ready to fall apart again. It doesn’t take long before we’re both falling over the edge together.

  We both collapse back onto the bed and he has an arm under my head, keeping me close to his side. Our breathing is hard as we try to regain control of our bodies.
Suddenly, he lifts his head and looks at the clock on the table.

  “Shit,” he breathes out.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, not ready to part just yet.

  “Brunch.”

  “So your dad’s going to be there?” I ask as we’re in the car, driving over to his grandmother’s house.

  He nods. “Yep, good ol’ dad himself.”

  “Sound I be worried? Is he going to hate me?”

  He shrugs. “He hates everyone . . . even me. So don’t let it bother you.” He turns into the gated driveway and puts in the code. The gates open and he hits the gas.

  We’re greeted in much the same fashion as we were the last time I was here, then led into the lounge area. His grandmother is already sitting with a champagne flute in hand.

  “Good morning. Please sit and have a drink with me.”

  Matthew bends down and takes two flutes, handing one off to me as we take our seats.

  I look down at my glass, suddenly wondering what’s inside. It looks to be orange juice. I guess rich people have to make every ordinary thing look fancy. I lift it to my lips and take a sip. I don’t know what else is in there, but it’s delicious. Maybe just some sparkling water? Maybe another kind of juice?

  “How was your weekend?” his grandmother asks him.

  He nods. “Very good. We went out on Lake Michigan on a yacht. We had dinner and danced.”

  “And then we went paintballing,” I add on, but suddenly have no idea why.

  Her face blanches. “Paintballing? What on earth?”

  I shouldn’t have said anything, but now I feel as if I need to explain. “It’s where you go through an obstacle course, shooting each other with little balls of paint.”

  She lets out a laugh. “Oh, be serious. You’re a funny one, aren’t you?”