Page 12 of Hitched to my Boss (Viva Las… Oh, Sh!t #2)

JASON

T he drive from Vegas back to Whisper Vale feels different than the one that took us there three days ago.

Natalia sits beside me in the rental car as we wind up the mountain road toward Whisper Vale, her hand resting on my thigh in a gesture that's become natural despite being new.

She's changed out of the business attire she'd worn to the breakfast meeting and into jeans and a soft sweater that makes her look more approachable, more like someone who could actually belong in my mountain sanctuary.

"It's beautiful," she says as we round the curve that reveals the full vista of mountains stretching to the horizon. "I was so nervous the first time I drove up here that I didn't really appreciate the view."

"You were nervous about meeting me?"

"I was nervous about everything. The whole situation. You were a new client in a remote location. I was stepping way outside my comfort zone." She turns to look at me, her expression soft. "I never imagined it would lead to this."

"Accidentally marrying your difficult client?"

"Finding myself married to someone I actually want to be married to," she says quietly.

The simple statement sends warmth through my chest. It's the first time either of us has admitted that this might be more than damage control, more than a business arrangement that got complicated.

"Even though you've only been to the cabin once before?"

"Even though." She squeezes my thigh gently. "Jason, I've lived in a dozen different cities, stayed in hundreds of hotels, and worked in countless offices. None of them ever felt like home. But something about your cabin, about this place, feels right in a way I can't explain."

I turn into my driveway, the familiar sight of my cabin coming into view through the trees. But seeing it through Natalia's eyes, it looks different somehow. Less like a hiding place and more like the foundation for something bigger.

"Second thoughts?" I ask as I park beside the front porch.

"About staying married to you? About moving in with a man I've known for three weeks? Or about completely rearranging my life for someone who might decide he's not ready for this level of commitment?" She grins at my expression. "None whatsoever."

I laugh, relieved by her humor and honesty. "You know, most people would consider those pretty significant concerns."

"Most people don't wake up married to someone they were already falling for."

"Already falling for?" The words catch me off guard.

"Too much?" She looks suddenly uncertain. "I know it's fast, but Jason, what I felt for you before we got drunk and did something crazy doesn't feel new. It feels like recognition. Like I've been waiting to find you without knowing that's what I was doing."

The admission hits me square in the chest because I understand exactly what she means. From that first day when she'd appeared on my doorstep, competent and beautiful and completely unintimidated by my reputation, something had clicked into place that I hadn't even known was missing.

"Not too much," I tell her, bringing her hand to my lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Perfect amount."

"Good. Because I plan on saying it frequently."

We sit in the car for another moment, both of us seeming to realize that walking through that front door together represents a significant step. This isn't a business meeting or a temporary arrangement anymore. This is the beginning of trying to make an accidental marriage into something real.

"Ready?" I ask finally.

"Ready."

I carry both our bags to the front door, fumbling slightly with the keys because I'm acutely aware of Natalia beside me, her presence making everything feel ceremonial and important.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Wallace," I say as I push open the door.

She steps inside, and I watch her take in the space with new eyes. The cabin looks exactly the same as when we left, but somehow it feels different. More welcoming, like it's been waiting for her to return and claim her place here.

She turns to face me, and there's something almost reverent in her expression. "Mrs. Wallace. I’m starting to like the sound of that."

"So am I." I set our bags by the stairs, suddenly uncertain about the logistics of this next phase. "Should I show you where everything is? Help you get settled?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with practical implications we haven't discussed. Where will she sleep? How do we navigate sharing a space when we're still figuring out what we are to each other?

"I'd like that. But first..." She steps closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume and see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. "Now that we're finally alone, and we're both sober and making conscious choices, I think my husband should properly kiss his wife."

The request sends heat racing through my veins. Our kiss at the conference had been protective, claiming, driven by adrenaline. This would be different. Intentional.

"Are you sure?" I ask, because once I kiss her like I want to, there's no going back to professional boundaries.

"I'm sure." She reaches up to touch my face, her fingertips tracing along my jaw. "Jason, I want this. I want you. I want to see if what we felt in Vegas was real or just Vegas magic."

Her request is my undoing. I pull her to me, and she launches herself into my arms with a wild, passionate kiss that takes my breath away. Her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat of her body through our clothes.

I back her against the wall, my mouth on hers like it’s the only thing keeping me alive. Her fingers roam over my back, urgent, possessive. When she nips at my lip, I groan, lifting her off her feet so she’s pressed between me and the cabin wall, exactly where she belongs.

Her legs wrap around my waist, and I slide my hands beneath her sweater, desperate to touch her, to feel her skin against mine. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the sensation of her, the way her body fits against me like it was made for this, for us.

She’s gasping my name, her hips moving against me, and I don’t think I can last if she keeps doing that. I cup her breast, wild and reckless, and she arches into my touch, her nails digging into my shoulders.

“Jason,” she breathes, her voice full of everything I’ve been trying not to admit I want.

I carry her to the couch, not willing to go a second without her in my arms. We tumble onto the cushions, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses, and I think that this, right here, might be the best decision I’ve ever made.

She pushes me onto my back, straddling me with confidence that leaves me dizzy, and I know I’m lost. Lost in her, in us, in a future I never let myself hope for.

I pull her down to me, capturing her mouth again, and she’s everywhere, my world narrowed to the feel of her hands and the taste of her lips and the soft sounds she makes when I touch her just right.

“We’re really doing this,” I say, just to hear it, just to make sure it’s real.

“We really are.” She pulls back slightly, her eyes dark and full of promise. “All in, remember?”

“All in,” I agree, and I kiss her again, pouring everything I have into it, everything I am.

I push her sweater over her head, my mouth moving to her breasts, feasting on the taste of her skin.

I suck and lick her nipples until she whimpers, her hands in my hair, her body arching into my mouth.

I stand, my pulse quickening, and grab a cube of ice from the kitchen.

She watches me, breathless, as I return with it in my mouth, kissing my way back down her body.

When the ice hits her nipple, she jumps, then moans, her fingers clutching my shoulders.

I trail the ice down her stomach, watching the water bead on her skin.

When I reach the waistband of her pants, I yank them off, leaving her in nothing but panties and my ring.

I drag the ice along her inner thigh, savoring the way her breath hitches, the way her legs part for me.

Then I move the ice back up, over her panties, and leave it there, soaking her clit and pussy with ice-cold water.

She gasps, a wild sound that makes me want her even more.

I slide her panties off, and the cube falls between her legs, melting against her heat.

The sight of it undoes me, and when I press my mouth to her, she's already shuddering beneath my tongue.

My tongue swirls over her clit, slow and teasing, savoring every sweet shiver of her body.

She tastes incredible, like something I’ve been craving my entire life.

I suck her clit hard, feeling it pulse against my lips, and she bucks underneath me, her fingers twisting in my hair as she moans my name.

I move lower, plunging my tongue deep into her pussy, fucking her with it until she’s panting and writhing.

I can feel her getting closer, her muscles tightening, her breath coming faster.

I flick her clit again, sucking it into my mouth, and she gasps, arching off the couch with a cry that drives me insane.

“Jason,” she breathes, her voice high and trembling. “Wait.”

I pull back, my lips wet and greedy. “What is it?”

“If you’re going to feast on me like that, you need to strip so I can have your cock in my mouth,” she says, her eyes dark with need. “I believe in a fully equal marriage.”

I stand immediately and yank off my clothes, my dick hard and aching for her. The look she gives me is pure hunger, and I know I’m going to lose my mind when she touches me.

She rises, taking my hand, and leads me into the bedroom. I'm still dizzy from the feeling of her under my mouth, the taste of her on my tongue. I can't believe she wants this, wants me, and I can't believe how desperately I want her.

“Lie down,” she instructs, her voice filled with urgency. “I want to taste you.”

I do as she says, stretching out on the bed, my pulse thundering. She climbs on top of me in the opposite direction, her pussy right above my face, and I groan at the sight of her.