Boss Love_Boss 3

by Victoria Quinn

  I set my clutch on the table and slipped off my heels. “How was your night?”

  “Just booze and work.” He held his glass over the back of the couch, an Old Fashioned. He’d probably been thinking of me the whole time I was gone.

  “Sounds like fun.” I walked to the back of the couch and took the glass from his hand. I took a drink, noting the way he used more whiskey in his drinks than I did. And he skipped the cherry.

  “How was your night?”

  “It was fun.” Thorn’s parents were the kind of people who didn’t act their age. They had a zest for life, loved to travel, and never saw themselves as people in their sixties. To them, age was just a number. They lived life to the fullest, like it could end at any moment. Thorn was close with his parents, something I liked about him. I didn’t have a family of my own, and it was nice to see someone cherish what they had. And one day, they would be my family too.

  “What did Thorn say about me?” he asked bluntly.

  At least the two men were honest about their feelings for one another. “The same things he’s already said.”

  Hunt turned his face back to the TV but didn’t really seem to be watching it. “Your party thing is tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I come along?”

  “You know I’m going with Thorn.” I returned the glass to his hand and made my own drink. I made an Old Fashioned, making sure there was a cherry in it. I moved into the living room and took the seat beside him.

  “I can go alone. It’s gonna be a big party, right?”

  “But it’s not like I can be with you.”

  “There’s a bathroom, isn’t there?” His eyes remained on the screen.

  “I told you I was busy this weekend. If you’re bored, you shouldn’t have come.” His arm moved around my shoulder, and he pulled me closer to him. “I’m definitely not bored.” He grabbed both of my legs and pulled them over his lap, pivoting my body so I was looking more at him than the TV. He curled his arm around my neck so he could take a drink, never taking his eyes off me.

  “You could get a lot of work done while I’m out.”

  “All I ever do is work. That’s the nice thing about having you around—you’re a distraction. You’re the solution to my workaholism.”

  “Anyone’s who’s successful is a workaholic.”

  “Thorn isn’t. He’s been fed with a silver spoon.”

  I didn’t mind when Hunt spoke his mind about Thorn, jealous of my relationship with him, but I wouldn’t let him talk about something he didn’t understand. “You don’t know him, Hunt. You’re in no position to talk about the things he has or hasn’t had.”

  Instead of being pushed away by the cold comment, he smiled. “My mistake.”

  I drank from my glass, letting the whiskey wet my mouth.

  “You’re loyal.”

  “Only good people are.”

  “It makes me wonder what you say about me when someone insults me.” He kept smiling. “I bet if anyone said the slightest mean thing about me, your eyes would burn black and your mouth wouldn’t stop moving. You would tell them off with that cool Tatum Titan temper.”

  “What makes you think I’m so loyal to you?”

  “Just a hunch,” he whispered as he nuzzled his face into my hair.

  We watched TV for the next hour, enjoying our glasses of whiskey without saying more than a few words to each other. It was one of the quiet times when we did something else besides screw. Like a couple who’d been together for years, we enjoyed the silence our companionship brought.

  Once it was past midnight, we turned off the TV and got into bed. Hunt removed his sweatpants and slid under the covers, sticking to his side of the invisible line. I took one of his cotton shirts out of his suitcase and pulled it over my body, letting it fall to the middle of my thighs.

  “I brought that just for you.”

  “You did?” I pulled the sheets back and got comfortable.

  “Yeah. It’s my gym shirt.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  His smile told me he was joking. “It’s soft and comfortable. I thought it was better than sleeping in my collared shirts.”

  “That was thoughtful.”

  “Not really. I just think you look sexy in my clothes.”

  “So this was entirely selfish?”

  He grinned. “Yep. Completely.”

  I turned on my side and faced him, surprised there wasn’t any movement toward sex. We’d fucked for hours before I had to start getting ready for dinner, and once in between, but that usually didn’t tame his arousal. He was like a sex machine that could go on forever. “No action tonight?”

  “I figured you were sore. I did fuck you in a million ways this afternoon.”

  “True.” I was a little sore. He stretched out every hole in my body.

  “I’m tired anyway…had too much to drink.”

  “You get drunk alone?”

  “I just get drunk when I’m depressed.”

  I studied the side of his face when his words melted into me. “Why are you depressed?”

  “You were out with Thorn…with his parents…”

  “That really bothers you?” I whispered.

  He shrugged it off and changed the subject. “How many partners have you had?”

  I didn’t answer. “That’s a sexist question.”

  “I don’t mean have many men you’ve slept with. How many arrangements have you had? I’m not asking out of jealousy or judgment. Why should I be jealous of men who have come and gone after me? When we’re together, I know I’m the only man you think about.”

  And even when we aren’t together. “Ten.”

  “Ten?” he asked. “I expected the number to be much higher than that.”

  “Finding the right partner takes some time.”

  “And how do you find them?”

  “Thorn usually helps.”

  His right eyebrow arched in surprise. “Why him?”

  “He knows people…”

  “Does he do these arrangements too?”

  Since it wasn’t my place to share Thorn’s personal life, I didn’t answer. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “So that’s a yes,” he said quietly. “Makes sense now.”

  I didn’t give him any kind of reaction. “How many women have you been with?”

  He shrugged as he released a deep sigh. “Damn…I honestly don’t know. I realize that’s a terrible thing to say…but I really don’t know.”

  “Not even an approximation?”

  “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman to be jealous of all the others before you.”

  “I’m not,” I said simply. “Just curious.”

  “Over a hundred. Probably one-fifty.”

  I couldn’t even wrap my brain around that. It didn’t surprise me considering how experienced he was. He didn’t just know where everything went…he knew how to make me see the moon and the stars. “You’ve never been in love?”

  “No.”

  “Not even close?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I’ve never had a connection with someone other than screwing. There’s flirting and laughing…but nothing substantial. Women only want me for my money or my fame. That’s it. No one has ever asked me what my favorite color is.”

  I smiled. “What’s your favorite color, Hunt?”

  He grinned as he stared up at the ceiling. “Blue. What’s yours?”

  “Pink.”

  He turned his head so he could look at me. “Really?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “It’s a girly color is all.”

  “Well, I am a girl…”

  “No, you’re a woman. I imagined your favorite color would be red…something bold and primal.”

  “I’m not a bull.”

  He chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

  “I like red…it’s nice.”

  “Anyway,” he said. “I’ve never been against relationships. I’ve just neve
r found anyone real. People think I’m some playboy that fucks around because I have money and fame. But I only do that because that’s how everyone treats me. They think that’s all I’m interested in.”

  “Why don’t you prove them wrong?”

  “How?”

  “Do charity work.”

  He laughed like I’d said something funny. “I’ve already founded three charity organizations, and I’m also involved with dozens of others. The media prints photos of me with a woman on each arm, but there’s never been a single article about my charity work. Because people don’t care. I’m much more interesting as an arrogant playboy. They feed on my feud with my father like it’s a soap opera.”

  I never found out what happened after Hunt beat out his father for Megaland. “Did your father say anything about that deal?”

  “No. But my brother called me about it.”

  “Brett?”

  “No. Jax.”

  He told me they hadn’t spoken in years. “Really? What did he say?”

  “Said my father was really pissed, and his pride was destroyed. So he warned me and said a war was coming.”

  That was disgusting. “Your father really is an asshole. How can someone be that petty?”

  He shook his head. “No idea.”

  “What kind of war is coming?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t really care. My dad can do his worst. I’m not scared of him.”

  When I looked at Hunt, I saw a hard-working, driven, and selfless man. He was aggressive and authoritative, but he was also gentle, considerate, and understanding. If he were my son, I’d be unbelievably proud. How a man could jealous of his son’s success baffled me. Every parent wanted their child to do better than them. At least, that’s how it should be. “You’re right. You have nothing to be scared of.”

  “Has your mother ever contacted you?”

  The question caught me by surprise. We were just talking about family so it wasn’t out of the blue, but his bluntness was still surprising. “Why?”

  “Once she figured out how rich you were, I assumed she asked to reconnect with you.”

  No, that never happened. “No.” There wasn’t enough money in the world to make my mom want to get to know me, unfortunately.

  “I’m surprised.”

  “I’m not. When she walked away, she wanted nothing to do with me. Doesn’t make any sense for her to change her mind about that.”

  “I’m sure she regretted it. Not right away, but eventually.”

  “I doubt that. But I don’t hate her for leaving.”

  “You don’t?” he asked quietly.

  “She left me in the care of my father, who was wonderful. She didn’t leave me on the street. And when she realized being a mom wasn’t for her, she did the right thing and left. If she didn’t want to be there, it was better for her to be gone. She would have resented me and acted out toward me. I would have been stuck with a mom who wasn’t affectionate or caring. Some people judge her for it, but in reality, she made the right decision for both of us.”

  Hunt stared at me in silence, his eyes not blinking.

  “Same thing with adoption. When a mother gives up her baby, people judge her for it. But if she knows she can’t give the child the life it deserves, then she’s doing the responsible thing. She’s giving her child a better life. That’s what love is.”

  His expression didn’t change. “You’re a lot more understanding than most people would be.”

  “I had my dad. And he was just as good as two parents. We didn’t have a lot of money and I didn’t have a lot of toys, but that didn’t matter. We had each other—we had love.”

  Hunt slowly smiled. “Very good point, Tatum.”

  He hardly ever called me by my first name. No one did.

  “And what if she came to you now? Said she regretted what happened all those years ago?”

  “I don’t know…” I’d never given it much thought. I didn’t hate her. I didn’t love her. I was indifferent toward her. I didn’t need a mother growing up, and I certainly didn’t need a mother now that I was a thirty-year-old woman. “It’ll probably never happen, so it’s not worth talking about.”

  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t.” I realized it was the most open we’d been with each other, talking just the way Thorn and I did. I talked about the mother who left me, and he explained that his father was still a heartless jackass. We didn’t share any of the same experiences, but we had a lot in common—heartbreak.

  “Do you have these arrangements because of what happened with that guy ten years ago?” He asked the question bluntly, probably taking advantage of the openness of our conversation. This was something he wanted to know about, had asked me about it before.

  I considered telling him.

  He watched me patiently, not asking another question until I finally gave an answer.

  “Yes.” He already suspected it, so I didn’t see the harm in confirming it.

  He turned his body on its side and looked at me, his eyes soft. “Did he hurt you?”

  I held his gaze without blinking, considering what my answer would be. I trusted Hunt not to tell anybody. I’d already trusted him with so much. But my tongue didn’t move, and the words didn’t form in my mouth. A part of me was afraid of what he would think of me. It was a stupid thing to be concerned about, considering Hunt was such a great man. He was never judgmental about anything. He was understanding and exceptionally sweet.

  I shouldn’t hesitate.

  But I still did.

  Hunt broke the silence. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I can wait. I’m a patient guy.”

  He let me off the hook. He recognized my unease, and instead of pushing me for answers, he just let it go. “Thanks… I guess I’m not ready.”

  “That’s fine. I’m here when you change your mind.”

  * * *

  When I woke up the next morning, I was on top of solid rock. Hunt’s chest was underneath me, and it rose and fell with every breath he took. His smell enveloped me, swallowed me whole in a big warm cocoon.

  My eyes opened, and I realized I’d crossed the line in the center of the bed.

  And I was all over him.

  He looked at me with a smile. “Morning.”

  I moved off his chest, aware of where I was and the fact that I shouldn’t be there. I pulled the hair out of my face and slowly retreated back to my side of the bed.

  Hunt’s smile disappeared as he watched me. “For the record, I woke up this morning like this—with you on top of me.”

  He could have dragged me across the bed when I was asleep, but any movement would have stirred me immediately. I knew the only reason why I was there was because I put myself there. “Sorry…” I moved back to my side, rustling the sheets as I slid away.

  “No need to apologize.” His strong arms let me go. “I liked it.”

  I returned to my pillow and pulled the sheets to my shoulder, cold on this side of the bed where there was no body heat. All the warmth and comfort were left on Hunt’s side.

  Hunt watched me with that handsome smile. “Now that you’re awake, why don’t you come back over here? You know you want to.”

  I did want to.

  He patted the mattress beside him, his hard chest calling my name. “Come on, baby. Don’t make me ask you again.”

  My mouth softened into a smile, and I slid back across the bed, back to the place I’d slipped away from. My body met his warm flesh, my hand went to his bare chest, and I rested my face in the crook of his arm. I hugged his waist and wrapped my leg in between his thighs.

  It was much more comfortable over here anyway.

  His lips brushed against my forehead, his kiss affectionate and soft. “I slept like a rock last night.”

  I didn’t wake up once. “Me too.”

  “My shirt feels even nicer when I’m not wearing it.” He smiled through his words.

  “It is comfy
.” I hadn’t slept with anyone for nearly a decade, and now I’d slept with Hunt every night for a week straight. Now I was used to his breathing, could tell the difference if he was asleep or awake. I was used to the sound of his alarm clock in the morning. I was used to those hot kisses on my neck.

  And I was used to getting laid first thing in the morning.

  That was a luxury I’d gone without.

  “I have an idea,” Hunt said. “How about we stay in this bed all day?”

  “I’m gonna have to pee.”

  He chuckled. “Except for peeing.”

  “And I need to eat.”

  “Room service.”

  “We still need to answer the door, and I don’t eat in bed.”

  “We’ll make an exception today—and I’ll answer the door.”

  “And what are we going to do in this big bed all day?” I asked.

  “You’re far too smart to play dumb, Tatum.”

  My hand moved up his chest, and I felt the hard muscles of his body. Nothing sexier than waking up to a man that felt like a brick wall. I wasn’t a damsel who needed to be protected, but I didn’t mind feeling protected by him.

  “We’re gonna fuck all day. And talk in between.”

  “What should we talk about?”

  “Sex.”

  I laughed because I knew he was being serious.

  “Stratosphere, cars, trips, your favorite things…”

  “My favorite things?” I asked.

  “Yeah. What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

  “Salmon and salad.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s a terrible answer. What would you eat every day if you were allowed to?”

  That wasn’t hard to figure out. “Pizza. You?”

  “Steak.”

  “You’re a red meat kinda man?”

  “I’m just a meat kinda man. What’s your favorite country?”

  “Hmm…France and Greece.”

  “Country is singular,” he teased.

  “Well, I can’t choose. What about yours?”

  “If you can’t choose, then you don’t have a favorite.”

  “Fine…Freece.”

  He looked down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion while a smile stretched across his mouth. “What the hell is that?”

  “Greece and France…get it?”