Leo Page 11

  Heat melts in my core as I consider this. “Maybe we should visit some time,” I suggest, with a smile.

  His hand slides over my thigh and I suck in a sharp breath as his fingers circle higher and higher. “Maybe.”

  “Sweetie,” I gasp. “I love you, but if you keep that up, I may not be able to keep the car on the road.”

  He nudges the wheel, gently but firmly, then gestures with his chin towards a turning up ahead. I have no idea where it leads, but with the heat pooling in my belly, I don’t really care. I’m sure he’ll make it worth my while when we get wherever we’re going.

  The thought has me squirming in my seat as I guide the car over the single track road in the fading light. The road becomes steeper and rougher, rock slicing up to one side, and I flick on the headlights. They blaze to life, lighting up the mountain to one side and falling into darkness on the other. Up ahead is a turnout, a familiar spot, and my core tightens as I remember what happened the first time I stopped here.

  The second time was pretty memorable, too. That bolt fit perfectly.

  “Why don’t we park for a minute?” he suggests, his low voice tugging at my pussy. Anticipation has moisture pooling between my thighs. Yeah, I can handle parking with Leo, and everything that comes with it.

  I put the car in park, and he gets out, then comes around the car to open my door and help me out. My knees are trembling, but I’m not sure I feel right about fooling around on the hood of his dad’s car, and I say so.

  He grins, and my blood melts into something hot and demanding, sizzling under my skin. Dammit. He can get me to do anything with that grin.

  “I appreciate your concern for the car, but that’s not why I brought you up here.”

  “It’s not?” I try, and fail, to keep my disappointment out of my voice.

  “I wanted to enjoy this view with you,” he says, and now I feel like a sex addict, and a profoundly ungrateful one, too. I turn and look out over the valley. He’s right, it’s a pretty view, and it’s even prettier for his big, strong, warm hand folded around mine.

  I feel him move and turn to look, only for my mouth to fall open as he drops to one knee.

  “The last time I was here with you, I told you I’d never give up on you, and I’d never let you go. There’s something else I wanted to say then, but it was too soon and I knew it. So I’m saying it now. Charlie Steele, mechanic extraordinaire and high beam of my life, will you marry me?”

  I stare down at him as he opens a ring box to reveal a brilliant flash of diamonds, gleaming in the last light of the sun.

  He gave me a job, then he gave me his heart, and then he gave me a bolt so rare it should have been impossible to find. Until this moment, I didn’t think he could give me anything more. I was wrong.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I’ll marry you.”

  He slides the ring onto my finger and kisses it, then turns my hand over and kisses my palm, before rising to his feet, skimming his hands over my body as he goes, and kissing my lips. My skin lights up in the wake of his touch and I throw my arms around his neck and fall into his kiss, his slick tongue dominating my mouth. His hands slide down over my ass, then lift me against him and I wrap my legs around his waist as he leans forward to press my back against the hood of the Superbird.

  “Do you really not want to fool around on my dad’s car?” he asks, his voice rough as a dirt road, his hips flexing, pressing his hardness against the ache between my thighs, making me gasp.

  “I think I can get over it,” I tell him, in between moans.

  “Good,” he says, his hand sliding under my shirt to cover my breast. As the light fades, the world falls away, until it’s only us and the car, just as it was in the beginning. It was never about his money, or my job, or even the cars. It’s just us. Leo is all I’ll ever need, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.

  The End

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  Jackson: Her Dominant Boss #4

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  Jackson

  I wave the hovering waitress away. My whiskey on the rocks sits untouched on the low glass table in front of me. I learned a long time ago not to drink when I’m having an off day, and today is an off day.

  More like an off week, though, or even an off month, if I’m going to be perfectly honest with myself, and I try to be. You don’t get to my position by lying to yourself. It’s the quickest way to get taken for a ride, and I’m never the chump. So I can admit to myself, as I look around my flagship club, the first one I owned, the first of a chain of fifteen across the nation, that I’m bored.

  Bodies gyrate on the dance floor below, or writhe in the shadows like snakes in the dark. Women and men alike search me out from below, casting come hither looks from eyes as hard as the floor they dance on. Flirtation long since ceased to be of interest to me. These people only want one thing, or two. Sex and money. My money. The sex, well, I have a certain reputation after all these years, and yeah, I have very specific tastes, but it’s been a long time since I indulged them.

  There’s nothing new here, nothing fresh. Everything is old and dark and dirty, including me. Oh, not physically. I can afford a different bespoke Italian suit for every day of the year if I want it, and personal hygiene has always been a part of my routine. But mentally, I feel old. Jaded. And I don’t like it. It’s dangerous for a man like me, a man with the money and power to indulge any whim he likes, no matter how wrong, how perverted.

  “Dane, old man, you look sad. How can I help?”

  I barely restrain myself from sneering Tarquin Carruthers, a British asshole who personifies everything I don’t want to become. He’s an object lesson on legs, a man to whom nothing is off limits, and no one is safe. Oh, he looks the perfect elegant aristocrat, but I’ve been to his parties. Well, one of them. Never again. Not that he’d have me. Some people take exception to being punched out in front of all their upper crust guests, and even more so to losing their ‘playthings’, as he calls them.

  I call them women. Or rather, girls. Girls too young to be doing what he was making them do.

  “Who do I have to fire for letting you in?” I drawl at him. It doesn’t pay to let someone like Carruthers know when he’s hit a nerve. He’ll slide a fire poker against the spot over and over, and he’d love to make me lose control. It gives me great pleasure to deny him the satisfaction, which is why he’s still allowed into my clubs, but only if I’m there.

  “Oh, dear boy, it’s always possible to get in, even when someone says something’s off-limits. Just a matter of offering the appropriate motivation to the other party.”

  I force myself not to react. Anyone would think he was referring to the club, bribing my staff. He’s not. He’s reminding me why I hate him.

  “Where’s the fun in hanging out where you’re not wanted?” I ask him, lifting my drink to my lips. “Are you really that hard up for company? I thought you could afford the best.”

  His eyes glitter and I smile at him, glad to see I landed a blow this time. It’s a little frustrating, having to trade words instead of punches, but I have a reputation as an upstanding businessman to maintain. My company and my employees won’t be helped by me losing my shit, even if it is over this excuse for a shitstain standing in front of me wearing an honest to God pocket watch.

  “Still pissed I closed the deal on that property in London, huh?” I ask him, knowing full well he is. The property in question is a prime piece of real estate, just off Leicester Square. The sixteenth Carnal Sin location will be a hit in London, but I’m almost as pleased about preventing him from securing it for himself. No one needs more Carruthers clubs in the world.

  Except Tarquin Carruthers, that is.

&nb
sp; “I suppose life is getting rather boring for you now,” he drawls. “All you’ve got is property and employees. You really need some companionship, my dear man. Maybe something new, a palate cleanser, as it were. Maybe I can help. I’m always acquiring new...toys. They really do make life so much interesting.”

  I can’t hide the narrowing of my eyes. Is this asshole for real? Walking into my club and offering me...whatever the fuck it is he’s offering me? I don’t even want to know.

  “When I want to shop out of the bargain bin, I know where to find you,” I tell him, and I smirk as his knuckles white on the end of his ridiculous cane. The man’s only five years younger than I am.

  Of course, it’s not for walking. The distinctive shape of the head is reminiscent of something else altogether, and there’s a reason for that.

  He looks past me and for the briefest second, something flickers across his face. I turn to look out over the dance floor and catch my breath.

  A vision in white stands near the bar, holding her friend’s hand, looking around with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, like she truly fell from Heaven and now has no idea where she is. A man steps up to her and takes her hand, kissing her palm, and my gut tightens. He’s standing too damn close for my liking. No one stands that close unless they’ve got the right, and having only just spotted this woman, I don’t want to believe she’s with anyone else.

  Her hair is a rich, soft blond, cascading around her neck in lazy curls. Her curves make something else tighten, besides my gut, and her legs are showcased by spike heels, those lush lines disappearing under the hem of a dress which hugs her like a second skin. I want to pull the guy off her, and I shove the impulse away. Has it really been so long since I was attracted to a woman that I’m ready to do violence to someone just for standing too close? They’re clearly together—

  Looking closer, I realize something else is going on here. The blonde isn’t holding her friend’s hand, her friend is holding her. My angel is very discreetly trying to twist free, but her friend isn’t having any of it. The guy also seems to have a tight grip on my winged goddess. Maybe her friend is trying to keep her from leaving with him? She doesn’t need my protection. She’s got her friends. And if she’s here, in this club, she probably doesn’t need anyone’s protection, least of all mine. People come here to get in trouble. That’s the whole point. We’ve got a dozen private rooms all kitted out for every kind of trouble you could possibly desire.

  She doesn’t need my protection, I repeat to myself. Maybe if I say if often enough, even if only inside my head, I’ll actually believe it.

  “How refreshing,” says Carruthers in my ear. “Such innocence. I’m sure she could use some instruction on the finer points of life.”

  Something in his voice makes my flesh crawl. It’s not his words, exactly, but something underneath them. A hint of laughter, of smug satisfaction.

  And then the man turns his head, just a fraction, but it’s enough. I recognize Simon.

  Son of a bitch.

  I lift the radio to my lips. “Connaughey, get on the dance floor. Guy with the angel, boot him. Now.”

  Carruthers is openly laughing at me now. “Are you going to evict his little friend, too?”

  I put an arm around his shoulders. The angle is just right that no one can see my hand close around his throat. “Send your boy in here again for fresh meat and he’ll come back to you missing body parts. And you know where I’ll start cutting.”

  I turn away, unable to take even a little satisfaction from the fact that he’s gone pale. I have somewhere else to be.

  Connaughey gets to the blonde about the same time as I do, and I reach forward and put my arm around her shoulders, now high and stiff with tension. “Darling, what a pleasure to see you. I’m so glad you came.”

  I turn to Simon. “You know better. Ask your boss what’ll happen the next time I see you in any of my clubs.”

  I gesture to Connaughey with my chin and he grips the back of Simon’s neck, making him wince, and leads him away.

  “That’s our friend,” snaps the girl who’s still holding onto Angel’s wrist.

  “He’s barred. If he’s your friend, so are you,” I tell her, sliding my hand down Angel’s arm to wrap around this harpy’s wrist and press down on a certain pressure point. She gasps and lets go. “Goodbye.”

  And then I bear my prize away, both revelling in the feel of her sweet, soft curves pressed against my side, and torn up inside at the way she’s shaking. I pull her into the darkness of an alcove, semi-private spaces divided from the main floor with curtains, and turn her to face me.

  “Are you okay?”

  ***

  Summer

  I have no idea what’s going on, but I think maybe I’ve just been rescued? One minute Simon’s telling me his favorite game is Simon Says and I had a terrible feeling growing in the pit of my stomach, and the next a huge man has swooped in like my guardian angel and had Simon, Dana and Karen kicked out of the club.

  I think.

  It’s hard to focus right now because everywhere this stranger touches me, electricity flickers over my skin, like a thousand tiny bolts of lightning. I don’t know his name, I don’t know anything about him, except that he’s huge and dressed in black.

  I look up at him and blink as brilliant golden eyes stare down at me. He’s so big, he fills the width of the alcove he pushed me into, and he’s well over six foot tall. I know I should be intimidated as hell. I should be freaking out, pushing him aside, if I even could, or screaming for help, or just...leaving. I should be trying to get back to my friends, and getting the hell away from this strange man who appeared out of nowhere just as I was getting a really bad feeling about Simon, and about Dana and Karen, too.

  But instead, I’m just standing here, staring up at him. I’m not scared of him at all. He looks like he could break me in half with one hand, but his touch is gentle. The hard lines of his face are etched with anger, but his eyes are full of concern.

  “Are you okay?” He asks, his voice gentle, for all it’s so deep.

  I nod.

  “Are you sure?” His hand skims up my arm and over my shoulder to brush against my cheek. So big, so hard, so strong, and yet such a careful, almost delicate touch.

  “Y-Yes,” I stammer, then pull myself together. “I mean, yes. Thank you.”

  The faintest suggestion of a smile drags at the corner of his mouth, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to kiss that finely sculpted twitch. Belatedly I realize I’m just standing here, staring at him, and I finally remember my manners.

  “Summer Keene,” I tell him, holding out my hand. “Thanks for coming along when you did. I was...getting a bad feeling.”

  His eyes flicker from my face to my hand, then back to my face. “So formal,” he says, in a voice as dark and rough as a drunk tank. He takes my hand, but instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his mouth and kisses the back. I gasp as the heat of his lips sears my skin, sending heat rolling through me, a tingly warmth that makes me itch in hidden places.

  “Jackson Dane,” he says, and I jump at the sound of his voice. His kiss somehow deafened me to the club noise roaring just a few feet away, made me forget where we are, who I am, and that I’ve only just met this guy.

  I blink, then realize he’s just told me his name. Jackson Dane. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it and soon stop trying. “I-It’s a pleasure to m-meet you,” I stutter, wanting to punch myself in the mouth. Why can’t I even string a sentence together around this guy? He’s going to think I’m a total loser, and it’s been a long time since I cared as much as I do now that this guy not think I’m a loser.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I gasp, speaking as fast as possible so as to minimise the stammer. It works! And then that lip quirks again and I want to slap him. He’s laughing at me, the oaf. “What’s so funny?”

  He sobers, staring down at me. “Nothing,” he says. “I simply didn’t expect to meet someone
like you here.”

  Something in his tone has my hackles rising. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

  Without warning, he steps towards me and I automatically back away, gasping as my back hits the wall. His hands meet the wall to either side of my head and he leans in. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he slides his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling deeply. My eyes roll back in my head as his breath skims over my skin, making me shudder.

  “Someone so fresh, so sweet, so...untouched.”

  My mouth falls open. “How do you—?” I cut myself off. He can’t possibly know I’m a virgin, and I’m not about to announce it to him. If I play my cards right, maybe...maybe…

  Jesus, am I really considering sleeping with this guy?