Page 82 of Boss of Me

I bite my twitching lip. “You’re very possessive, aren’t you?”

“Only with you.” He flexes his hips, the broad head of his cock nudging my entrance. “Do we have an agreement?”

Pinned beneath him with my wrists bound in his hands and my body aching for his, there’s only one answer I can give: “Yes.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. Then he wraps my legs around his waist and slides into me, and everything else fades away . . . .

Chapter Nineteen

marlowe

Over the next three days, I find myself hyperaware of Gunner’s presence from the moment he arrives home until he leaves for work again. I don’t have to see him walk into a room—I can just tell by the way my body tingles that he’s somewhere near. Every time our eyes meet over a cup of coffee, my heart does a flutter flip. If we’re not alone and he just happens to brush up against me, I have to bite my inner cheek to keep from moaning. Even picking up his dry cleaning feels like an intimate act performed by a girlfriend rather than the help.

But Iamthe help, and I can’t afford to forget that. Despite his talent for giving me soul-shattering orgasms, despite the way he confided in me and claimed me as his, despite the fact that I can’t get him out of my head—despiteallthese things—I’d be crazy to let myself believe I could ever have something real with Gunner. He’s a billionaire, so far out of my league he might as well reside in another galaxy.

There’s a reason I felt so out of place at his lavish dinner party. I was like a fish out of water among his elite circle of friends, all those expensively garbed men and women who’d looked right through me as I served them champagne. No matter what Gunner says or expects of me, I don’t belong in his world. I never will.

The gloomy thought stays with me as I finish running his errands on Thursday and drive back to the estate. A dozen groundskeepers are hard at work mowing the lawn, weeding flower beds, and pruning hedges and trees. When I pull up in front of the house, Mrs. Calder stands outside talking to the gardener. They wave at me and I wave back.

As I turn off the engine, Mr. Leland comes out to retrieve Gunner’s dry cleaning from the backseat. I follow him inside and head upstairs to my room.

Walking through the door, I stop short at the sight of my cat sitting on the bed fastidiously licking her paws.

I gasp in shock. “Sansa!”

She hops down and races over to me, her tail waving high in the air. I scoop her up and hug her close, laughing joyously when she rubs her whiskered face against mine.

“How on earth did you get here?” I exclaim.

“Well, obviously, she teleported.”

I whirl around, my jaw dropping when Quinn emerges from her hiding spot and yells, “Surprise!”

“Oh, my God!”

We rush into each other’s arms and hug, squishing Sansa between us until she yowls in protest and leaps down from my arms.

“Sorry, sweet baby,” I tell her with a laugh before grabbing Quinn’s hands. “How long have you been here?”

“About half an hour.” She grins. “When I got home from work, your boss’s driver was waiting for me. He’s cute, by the way. Is he single?”

“Trace? No, he has a girlfriend.”

“Damn.” Quinn snaps her fingers.

I laugh. “Back to what you were saying.”

“Right. Where was I? Oh, yeah, he ambushed me in the parking lot?—”

“Ambushed?”

“I mean, he’s big and kind of scary looking. Getting approached by a guy like that can be sort of intimidating. Plus he was strapped. He’s obviously more than just a driver.”

“You’re right. He’s also my boss’s bodyguard.” When Quinn looks at me wide-eyed, I shrug. “Gunner is a billionaire CEO with lucrative government contracts. That makes him a prime target for kidnappers and terrorists. Trace is ex Special Forces, and he only drives Gunner around in bulletproof vehicles.”

“Wow.” Quinn shakes her head, looking fascinated. “The world you inhabit now . . .”

“Surreal, right? I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore.” I redirect our conversation back to the original topic. “So Trace approached you in the parking lot . . .”