One Bossy Date: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

His tongue is a feather wrapped in a growl.

It flicks against me, traces down my opening and back up again, tormenting me with the most exquisite touch I’ve ever felt.

And when he finds my clit and starts circling—

I’m gone.

“Brock,” I whimper for the hundredth time, the only word my brain can process.

He only stops to press a finger against my clit, applying this devilish pressure as his tongue circles the very tip.

He starts kissing down my opening without moving away from the magic spot, dragging me to the brink of madness.

My hips are begging with every desperate switch of my hips. I don’t care.

I need him.

I need him to stop teasing and—

Oh! His tongue thrusts inside me.

I’m a gasping mess, my body pulling tense like a cord.

I’m not sure what I was expecting.

Definitely not this burn, this sweeping pressure, this sweetness as he shoves his mouth against me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Holy hell.

He holds me in place with one hand and a growl while his finger works at my clit, his tongue sweeping in and out of me.

“Oh. Oh, Brock! God!”

Right now, I’m blasphemous.

I can’t tell where heaven ends and this man begins when they’re one and the same.

And his whole face presses into me as he shoves my legs apart.

Everything intensifies.

I’m not sure when he sold his soul for this black magic spell he’s working on me, but I love it.

Every rumble.

Every lick.

Every punishing tongue thrust.

Everything goes black for a minute before all I see is red with swirling pinpricks of light.

All the stars.

A wave of pure euphoria erupts in my belly, hurling me higher and slamming me down. Shaking, panting, gasping, I’m—

Coming!

And I come so hard for him I wonder if I’ll ever find my way home.

I’m still a spinning mess when my senses finish short-circuiting. I feel his light kisses on my inner thighs and I look down.

Brock pulls away from me, still sucking his fingers.

“Sweet Jesus. I need a minute.”

“You have two,” he says, explaining why as he grabs a very angry pulsing cock. “Catch your breath, Sunshine. Keep your legs open. I can’t fucking wait much longer.”

He sits next to me impatiently, waiting for me to re-enter my own body.

I swallow as I give him a look that tells him I’m ready. He reaches for a condom I didn’t know he had, tears it open, and rolls it over his enormous length.

I’m still petrified every time I stare at his dick.

The man is a walking cudgel with an ego attached—and soon there’ll be nothing left between me and every brutal stroke.

“Breathe, Piper,” he growls, moving so his swollen shaft touches my clit.

Oh, God.

His eyes close and his teeth appear as he beats the tip of his cock against me.

Then he cranes his neck, pressing a sultry kiss to my forehead, and I feel his weight shifting between my legs.

He’s at my entrance now, slowly pushing forward.

He bares his teeth as he enters me, an animal glint in his eyes.

Even through the nerves, he almost sets me off again.

“K-keep going,” I whisper, raking my nails down his shoulders.

“You’re okay so far?”

“I’m burning up. You’re the only thing that can put this fire out,” I confess. “But please go slow.”

I can tell he doesn’t want to.

The beast in his lightning-blue eyes protests, but I trust him to restrain the monster I hope to tame soon.

And now I understand.

I moan as he sinks in slowly, one inch at a time, bringing my knees up to force us closer together—I don’t want to know where I end and he begins—but also to deepen this sweet insanity.

His arms tighten around me as he pushes on.

Deeper.

Deeper.

I don’t expect it when he bottoms out with a low grunt, his eyes searching mine to check for anything broken.

Nope. Only in my head since I’m having fever sex with my boss.

“I’m fine,” I force out.

He moves so slowly, caressing my face, looking down on his work with blue-eyed pride.

We ride this timeless moment where I adjust to him, and he tries so hard not to tear me apart.

He leans his head down and brushes my lips.

I open my mouth and our tongues move together.

The kiss becomes more frantic—desperate—and even though he’s fully in me, I still need more.

He breaks away, gasping for air and raising me with him.

Just when I think he’s going to pull out, though, he thrusts, this time faster.

My whole body stretches, taking the impossible.

Heaven.

And then he does it again and we’re moving together, finding our rhythm, all jousting breaths and mad desire.

His hips switch up and down several times before he kisses me again, shoving his tongue against mine with a fury like never before.

I’m so close.

So agonizingly close to the end.

And I push my face as close to him as I can with the way he’s frantically moving, sucking at his tongue, becoming this sex-starved thing I don’t even recognize.

Another growl explodes in my mouth as he takes me.

We’re connected in the wildest ways, my body tightening around him with each stroke.

Nerves I never knew I had ignite.

Pleasure grabs me by the throat and reaches up inside me, impatient, insisting I come on this bull charging my depths.

But his eyes demand a thousand times more when he pulls back and stares down at me.

Two midnight-blue flames bore through me, demanding my ruin, screaming let go.

“Fucking. Come. For. Me,” he grinds out each word. “Pippa, I need to feel you.”

Holy unholy.

And my vision blurs as we become two leaping torches of white-hot ecstasy made flesh.

I come just a split second ahead of him, and the way his cock swells and releases catalyzes my explosion.

We melt into the release, fully surrendered to pleasure.

And through the haze, I watch him as his head snaps back, chest heaving, teeth bared as he empties himself, using me so sweetly to give up the one thing that might be his religion.

Control. Precious control.

It feels like an entire age passes before I blink my eyes open and realize he’s next to me.

I giggle softly as his mouth closes around mine again, taking me into his arms.

“I hope it’s not my performance. No man cares to be laughed at after that.”

But I’m still laughing. “Sorry. It’s just—holy shit—I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I just loved that.”

He strokes his hand down my side. “Can I ask you something?”

“We’ve just shared skin. So, yeah, shoot,” I say.

“Was that your first time?”

My whole body grows even hotter than it already is.

“Was I—I mean—did it not—”

He chuckles, low and confident and combing his hand through my hair. “It was the hottest fuck of my life. Without question. That made me wonder.”

“…because I didn’t know what to do?” I squeak.

“You were so worried it would hurt.”

“You know you’re huge, right?” The smirk curling across his lips is a big fat yes. “I may have tried it once or twice with other guys, but it was never like this.”

“Like what, Piper?”

“Um. Never a human earthquake.”

His smirk blooms into a real smile.

Good Lord, it’s glorious.

Seeing this man sincerely happy feels as rare as a double rainbow, and I’m grateful I had a lot to do with it.

I’m about to bury my head on his chest, but he cups my face and kisses me again before I can.

“Is that nerdy? To tell you I totally lost control—”

“It’s fucking adorable. And if you still have a brain after that, I haven’t done my job well enough.” He runs a hand down my back.

“Let’s hit the shower. Together,” he adds when I don’t immediately follow.

Somehow, it’s even more intimate with three waterfall showerheads blasting down on us than the gravity-defying sex we just had.

That’s where I notice a huge faded scar crossing Brock’s shoulder down his chest.

I didn’t see it earlier when I was so preoccupied.

“What happened here?” I trace my finger over the thin red line as he kisses my neck.

“Old combat wound. Nothing serious.”

I nod. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not for years.” He smiles at me. “Hell, when you’re touching it, the damn thing feels pretty good.”

I laugh, even if I get the impression he doesn’t want to say much about it.

He washes my hair and my back before his hands find the rest of me. I sink into his fingers as he rubs this apricot-scented body wash all over my skin, focusing on my breasts.

Soon, he’s ready for me again, and I’m so flushed and aching I grab the base of his shaft, greedily pulling him in.

“Against the wall, Sunshine,” he commands, grabbing my ass for extra support.

Our second time in under an hour throws me into a whole new realm of crazy.

This time, there’s no warm-up.

Just Brock buried to the hilt, crashing into me again and again, his hips driving like a hammer on an anvil.

His teeth sink into my shoulder, alternating love bites with low curses.

“Jesus. You keep that up and everyone is going to know,” I whisper. “I’m going to need a turtleneck up to my face if you—”

His next thrust cuts me off.

“Let them. In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m trying to fucking mark you. I want you wearing me for the next week after we get back,” he rasps in my ear.

Fair is fair.

I rake my nails down his back, playing his game, marking him up just as intently as he claims me with more lunging strokes and animalistic bites.

I don’t think it lasts another five minutes before we’re breathless dust in the wind.

His wall of a body bows and explodes with a guttural, “Fuck!”

I cling to him for dear life, the storm of his release battering my own, dangerously in love with all of this except that condom.

I can feel his raging heat through it.

In the crazy moment, I wonder what it would be like to feel him skin on skin, to be left leaking him for hours.

But we ride out our last wave together, two hot messes thrown together.

Deliciously ruined.

Sated—for now.

The hot water brings me out of the trance as I dig my nails into his shoulder and whisper, “Brock, don’t move. Not yet.”

He presses a rough kiss to my forehead, the first of several sticky sweet kisses for the next minute.

“Where the hell have you been all my life?” he whispers before attacking my mouth again.

I don’t know how to answer.

With the hot water running thin and exhaustion setting in, we finish showering, towel off, and head back to bed.

“I should probably go back to my room,” I say a few minutes later. “Just so…you know. So no one sees us walking out together and there isn’t anything else to worry about.”

“We have the private entrance. We’ll time it so there’s nothing to explain,” he says gruffly.

“But—”

“Piper, stay.”

My heart jumps in my chest.

That settles it.

My legs turn to mush and I start to actually relax.

When his arms reach out and pull me closer, spooning me against him, I’m floating.

And that’s how I drift off to a deep sleep to an orchid-scented night bright with stars and pretty bird calls.

I don’t wake up until a faint chiming sound bleeds into my dreams.

Huh? My phone?

I lift the overly fluffy blanket stretched over my naked body.

The bear next to me makes me smile. I’m a little glad he can sleep through the incessant noise, at least.

Is it morning?

Probably Jenn wanting to go downstairs for brunch.

Damn, can’t she just go by herself today?

I’d like to just bask in Brock flipping Winthrope sleeping next to me and still snoring before life gets too real again—before I have to deal with the glaring fact that I just slept with my boss.

Big yikes.

But where is my phone, anyway? My eyes scan the darkness.

I gave it to Brock last night before we left my room. He put it in his jacket, I think.

So, where’s his jacket?

I start replaying last night in my head. The suite is so huge it has a large sitting room and a fireplace outside the bedroom.

Even though he’s sleeping, I’m suddenly shy again. I think I only survived being naked with him last night because I was so lust-drunk.

In the faint blue morning light, without the adrenaline rush, I’d be mortified.

So I creep to the edge of the bed and stand up slowly.

Damn, it’s cold.

I snatch the throw blanket from the bed and pull it around me for warmth. As I move around the bed, it comes off Brock.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

I’ll put it back in a minute.

He starts to stir, and I really don’t want him to wake up before I’m dressed.

I grab the robe I left on the floor before our last round and throw it on before I toss the blanket over him.

Somewhere in the distance, my phone goes off again.

He’s still asleep. Thank God.

I scurry through the open door, searching.

Where is his fricking jacket?

He draped it over me in the elevator. I survey the floor, but I don’t find it, even with the ringtone getting louder and not stopping.

A lump builds in my throat.

What if it’s not just Jenn pestering me at the crack of dawn?

Where is that stupid coat?

I stoop over, but there’s only one thing on the floor.

A shiny white keycard. I pick it up, open the door, and laugh.

There’s a grey pile on the floor between the elevator and the suite.

Bingo.

In all the excitement last night, it must have fallen off before we got inside and neither of us noticed.

I lift the jacket and find a black heel under it. Oh, I lost a shoe last night too?

That wine must have been good—or maybe it was all boss snarlypants and his sexy whispers.

Heat throbs through me.

I grab the heel and slide the jacket over my shoulders just to have a free hand before I dig the phone out of the pocket.

A number I don’t recognize flashes across the screen. I swipe the green icon.

“Hello?”

“Oh my God! Finally!” Maisy screams. “Pippa, where are you? Can you come home early?”

“We’re leaving tonight. What’s wrong?”

“We’re…we’re at the hospital and they’re asking if Dad has a DNR, and I don’t know what that means, and—”

I fall back and bang the wall.

Everything starts spinning. My heart tries to beat right out of my chest and I’m instantly nauseous.

“Why would they ask you that?”

“Because he needs emergency surgery! And with his meds and the anesthesia—”

“He doesn’t have a DNR, Maisy. Go tell them.” I’m trying not to scream. “Jesus, what happened? Have they cut him open? Is it his heart?”

“No. Nothing like that yet.”

“The medications again? I swear to God, if that quack didn’t give him the right dosage—”

“He had a fall. An accident,” she says quickly, sniffing back tears. “I woke up really early and must’ve made too much noise, so he got up too. He went out there when it was still dark for the morning paper. I was making coffee when I noticed he was gone too long… I found him on the sidewalk. Banged up and barely breathing. Those stupid stairs, I told him we should have gotten the railing fixed and so did you.”

“Yeah,” I say weakly. “So he’s still in one piece, though?”

“He broke a rib, I think, and passed out from the shock. They said a lot. Something about muscle damage too, I dunno. They had to look through a lot of records and sort out his meds before they could do anything.”

My hand flutters over my mouth.

God, I knew this trip was a bad idea.

I should have stayed home, Brock Winthrope and his caveman charms be damned.

And there I was in bed—waking up from the time of my life with my boss—while my dad was flat on the cold ground suffering.

I’m a craptacular daughter and a fail of a sister.

Maisy bursts into tears I know she’s barely held in then, rubbing salt in the wound.

“Mais, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she lies. But she starts crying harder, turning my heart into gravel. “Pippa, I’m just scared.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I should have told Winthrope to go to hell and stayed home. I knew something would happen if I wasn’t there—”

“What would you have done that I didn’t? I did the best I could!”

Shit. She’s right.

I sigh.

“Maisy, this isn’t your fault, and you shouldn’t be alone. Can you call Trina and her mom? I’m sorry. I’ll get home ASAP. Let me pack and check my flight options.”

“I thought you weren’t coming back until later?”

“I’ll find a commercial flight if I have to.”

“Are you sneaking out on me?” a masculine voice says behind me.

“Who’s that?” Maisy asks.

I whip around and see Brock’s silhouette in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, yawning like the tiger of a man he is.

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay? Just make sure they know he doesn’t have a DNR.”

“DNR?” Brock says sharply.

I sigh. My life is a cosmic joke.

“I have to go. Just make sure he’s okay.”

“Piper, what the hell is going on?” Brock demands, scratching his chin.

I turn around to face my executioner, who’s dressed in nothing but boxers.

If it were any other morning, I’d be at his total mercy. But now…

“Good, you’re awake. I think I forgot my keycard last night—”

“What?”

“And I’m not sure where my other shoe is.”

“It’s in the bedroom doorway—but what’s happening?”

“Would it be a problem if I took a regular flight home soon? And can you call someone about my room key? I just need to get a new one ASAP so I can—”

He closes the space between us and snatches my hand so quickly I gasp.

“Piper, what the fuck? Who were you just on the phone with? And who do you need them to take care of?”

“My little sister,” I say distantly.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah. But…but my dad isn’t.” My throat stings when I say it.

He closes his arms around me, all bright-blue eyes searching mine.

“What happened?”

“He had a fall. He’s in the hospital now. He has some issues—a lot of medications—so they asked Maisy if he has a DNR. She understandably freaked, assuming the worst, but I’m hoping it’s just standard procedure. But I can’t be here—”

I stop, watching him tear away and march through the room. He picks up the phone on the table and calls the front desk.

“This is Brock Winthrope. Have Piper Renee’s room packed and her belongings brought to my suite immediately.”

Someone on the other end must say something he doesn’t like.

“Just do it, I said. Don’t make me ask twice. I’ll expect everything in ten minutes. Move your asses.” He slams the phone down and guides me over to the couch.

“Um, there goes our cover,” I point out.

“We’ve found what we needed to here. And I’ll need to make a few more calls. Do you want to wait here?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I just need to get home.”

“I’m going to get you there. Your belongings probably won’t be here for a few, so come sit.” He motions to the couch and disappears into the bedroom suite.

I collapse on it under the weight of my own dark thoughts.

Will I ever see my dad alive again?

I totally get why Maisy was having a nervous breakdown.

Hot tears come pouring down my cheeks and I’m not a seventeen-year-old kid.

I can’t believe I did this.

Any of it!

If something happens to him, she’ll hate me forever.

And she should.

I let my selfishness take over. I let them talk me into thinking it would all just be peachy.

Oh, I can tell myself I left Maisy home for the weekend because I had to work. But that’s a cop-out.

If I’d just been honest with Brock, he would have let me stay in Seattle.

He’s not the dragon everyone thinks he is. And if I hadn’t come here, maybe I would have thought a lot harder before we upset our working relationship forever.

…I don’t even know how to process that in the middle of this crisis.

I’m still trying when he comes out of his room in khakis and a pale-green shirt that offsets his sapphire eyes.

“Green looks good on you,” I say numbly, as if he could choose the wrong color.

He walks up to me and wipes my tears away with his hand.

“Did something else happen while I was out of the room?” he asks.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just—yeah.”

He sits down beside me and wraps an arm around me. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re right to be worried.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I say miserably.

“You mean in my room?”

“In Chicago.”

He levels a sympathetic look on me. “I’m sorry. If I’d known about your problem—”

“I know! You gave me all the chances and I blew it. I’m so stupid!” I hiss.

“Stop it,” he growls, grabbing my face gently with both hands. “You would have heard her calling sooner if I hadn’t dropped my jacket in the damn hallway. This clusterfuck is nobody’s fault.”

“Okay,” I say weakly.

He taps his phone and presses it to his ear. “I need my jet ready ASAP. Change of plans. How soon can we leave?” He’s quiet for a minute. “And that’s the earliest there’s a runway?” He pauses. “Whatever, I’ll take it. Personal emergency. Yes, I’ll make plans for the rest of the team. I’ll be returning alone plus one person. Just be sure you have the plane restocked with coffee and a couple of those giant cinnamon rolls from the Sweeter Grind in town.”

A colossal cinnamon roll can’t fix this, but I’m smiling inside, even if it doesn’t show on my face.

He looks at me.

“We’ll leave in two hours. Is that fast enough?”

Before I can thank him, there’s a knock at the door, and he’s calling someone else.

I walk to the door and open it.

Two uniformed employees stomp in. One carries my duffel bag, and the other has a Winthrope-branded suitcase.

“Everything in your room has been packed, ma’am. We checked under the bed, and all the closets and drawers for good measure.” Thing Two hands me a black folder. “We just need you to sign acknowledging receipt.”

I do and watch them walk out immediately.

I should be happy as I stare at the luggage and the man pacing the room, making frantic conversation with someone—probably Keenan.

He’s surprised me again, charging to my rescue when I didn’t ask him to.

If there was ever any question about him earning my trust, it’s been answered with a shout.

But now that he has it, after all this is over, what will that mean?