Page 3 of Forbidden Boss

He doesn’t slow until we slip down a darker hallway near the back of the club. Away from the main lights, the shadows wrap around us, muffling the music. The second we’re out of sight, he presses me against the wall, his mouth crashing back to mine.

I gasp against his lips when he trails kisses down my jaw to my throat, biting lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue. My fingers clutch at the lapels of his jacket, needing something to hold onto as his intensity drowns out every thought but one.

When he finally speaks again, his breath is hot against my skin. “There’s a hotel across the street. I have a room.”

The words are raw, stripped of anything but intent.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the cautious part of me screams. This is reckless and dangerous. I don’t even know this man’s name, for God’s sake. Part of my brain tells me notto follow him to another location, but a stronger part of me screams at that part to shut up and enjoy this.

It has been so long since anyone worthy has given me any attention, and he is everything I had just told Susie I wanted.

I push against his chest, just enough to get a breath of space, my eyes searching his. “You didn’t tell me your name,” I remind him.

“You can call me whatever you like,” he says, and nothing more.

He doesn’t ask for my name in return. Instead, he takes my hand, pulling me toward the back exit that leads straight to the street.

The cool night air hits my flushed skin as we step out into the alley behind the club. My pulse races, but not from fear. For once in my life, I’m not analyzing every angle, not calculating the risks.

Maybe I’ll regret this tomorrow, but tonight, I’m free.

2

LEV

The woman is hooked. I feel it in the way her hand clutches mine, in how her body yielded when I kissed her in that hallway. She could have walked away at any moment or shoved me back and told me no. She didn’t. That’s enough for me to know to go forward.

The city’s night air wraps around us as we step out of the back exit of the club. A black SUV idles at the curb, one of mine. The driver straightens the moment he sees me, but I wave him off. I don’t need a car. The hotel is across the street, and I prefer the short walk, the way it draws curious stares and makes others scatter.

She keeps pace beside me, her short dress riding high on her thighs, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. There’s a spark in her eyes, a defiance I don’t usually see in the women who follow me. They want the money, the power, the name. She wants something else. I don’t know what yet, but I intend to find out.

The hotel’s facade gleams under the city lights, polished marble and glass that reflect the neon glow of the street. My nameisn’t on the building, but it doesn’t need to be. Levcon’s shell companies own it outright. Everyone on staff knows exactly whose property this is.

The doorman opens the glass doors before I reach them. Inside, the lobby hums with quiet activity: businessmen on late check-ins, tourists dragging luggage, a couple waiting by the elevator. The front desk clerk looks up, sees me, and immediately pales.

He doesn’t ask for identification or check the system. His hands move fast, fumbling a little as he slides a keycard across the counter. “Penthouse suite, sir,” he says, his voice unsteady.

I don’t thank him. I never do. Power doesn’t require pleasantries.

The woman glances at me as I take the key. Her lips curve into something between disbelief and amusement, but she doesn’t ask questions. She’s smart enough to keep them to herself.

I guide her toward the elevators, my hand at the small of her back. It’s not a gentle touch. It’s possessive and claiming. For tonight, at least, she’s mine, and I want her to know it. The elevator doors open without delay, and we step inside.

The doors slide shut, cutting off the murmur of the lobby, leaving only the soft hum of the motor and the two of us. She leans against the mirrored wall, her eyes on me, daring me to make the next move. I don’t waste any time.

One step closes the distance between us. My hand curls around her jaw, tilting her face up to me. Her lips part on a quick inhale before I crush my mouth to hers. The kiss is hard and all-consuming.

She tastes like sugar and alcohol, but beneath it is something sweeter, something unspoiled. Her hands press against my chest, and I brace my palm beside her head, pinning her with my body.

The elevator climbs, slow and steady, and I use every second. My tongue slides against hers. She arches into me, her curves soft against the rigid line of my suit. When I drag my mouth down her throat, her pulse jumps against my lips. I bite lightly, savoring the sound of her gasp, the way her nails dig into my chest through the fabric.

The elevator chimes, the doors sliding open onto the private hall of the penthouse floor. I pull back, catch her hand, and tug her after me. Her heels click against the marble as she hurries to keep up.

Inside the suite, the city spreads out beyond floor-to-ceiling windows, lights glittering against the Hudson. The room is polished, expensive, designed for indulgence. I barely pay attention to any of it.

I press her against the closed door before she can take any of it in. My mouth claims hers again, my hands already sliding up her thighs. She gasps into me, breathless, and I take advantage, devouring her.

“Take this off,” I order, my fingers tugging at the hem of her dress.