Page 48 of Claimed By the Boss

“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping closer, hands still balled at my sides.

She nods slowly, then faster. “Yeah. I think so.”

I reach out, and she steps into me on instinct. Her arms go around my middle, and she presses her face into my chest.

“I didn’t know he followed me,” she mumbles. “He just came out of nowhere.”

I rest my chin on top of her head, still trying to get my breathing under control.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur. “You’re safe now.”

A door creaks open down the hall, then another. Someone sticks their head out.

Lyra looks up at me and gives a shaky laugh. “We probably shouldn’t do this out here.”

Her voice is softer now, more grounded.

She brushes her hair back and motions toward her apartment. “Come inside. Becca’s still at work.”

I follow her in, only now realizing my hands are still trembling from how close that came to turning bloody. I take a minute to message my driver and tell him I’ll be staying here for the night. Then I put my phone away and turn to her.

Lyra is standing just inside the apartment, hands still trembling slightly, her back against the locked door. Her breathing comes in quick little bursts, but her eyes are steady, locked on me like I’m the only thing in the room she trusts to make sense. That’s exactly what I need to be right now.

I cross to her slowly, reaching for her hand without saying a word. She doesn’t flinch when I take it. She just steps into me, letting her body melt against mine like she’s been waiting for it all day.

I kiss her before I can stop myself. There’s no hesitation this time. My mouth finds hers and everything else disappears. Allthat fury I had when I saw Rick touch her, when I heard her scream, when I imagined what could have happened, is gone now, transformed into something else. Something sharp, urgent, and focused entirely on her.

She leans into me, kissing me back with the same hunger I feel in every inch of my body. Her hands pull at my jacket, then my shirt, and I can feel her pulse racing against my chest.

“I need to feel something good,” she whispers into my mouth. “After that. I need?—”

“You will,” I say, already pulling her closer. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t rush. I won’t. Not tonight. Tonight is about her.

I pick her up easily, feeling her legs wrap around me, her arms around my shoulders. She kisses along my jaw, her breath warm against my skin, and I carry her to the bedroom without breaking stride.

Her room is dim, quiet, faintly scented with vanilla. I set her down carefully on the bed and slide my jacket off. She’s already working at the buttons of her top, but I stop her with a gentle touch.

“Let me.”

She goes still, watching me, trusting me. I ease her blouse off one button at a time, sliding it off her shoulders and down her arms. Her bra follows. The moment our bare skin touches again, her breath catches.

I kiss her again, softer and slower this time. I want to hear every sound she makes and feel very shift of her body. Her legs tighten around me as I slide my hands down her sides, memorizing the curves, the warmth of her skin, the way she arches up into me.

She lifts her hips so I can take off her jeans, and I do it slowly, pressing kisses to her stomach, then her thighs. I trail one kiss down the inside of her thigh and feel her tremble under me.

“You’re shaking,” I murmur.

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just need you.”

“You have me.”

I don’t say the rest. That she’s had me since the moment I first saw her.

I strip down fully, then pull the blanket over us as I slide back onto the bed beside her. I don’t rush the rest. I want to learn her body the way I’ve already learned her laugh and her voice, her hesitation when she’s unsure of something but brave enough to keep going anyway.

I run my hands along her waist, kissing the line of her neck to her collarbone and then to her breast. She moans softly and threads her fingers through my hair. I keep going, tasting her skin, touching her like the privilege it is.