Page 43 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

Slowly, I raise up onto my toes. Elliot swallows, watching, not moving away.

When I wrap my arms around his neck, he winds an arm around the small of my back. It’s like we’re each giving the other person endless opportunities to step back, to stop this — but neither of us does.

Elliot finally breaks through the slow motion, hauling me up against him with a breathy moan. He’s hard, and the pressure of it sends azingthrough me, the memory of that night, of what he feels like, coursing down to every one of my fingers.

In one smooth movement, the combination of two strong bodies, Elliot is lifting me up and I’m wrapping my legs around his waist. He carries me over to the desk. Lightning flashes outside the window, illuminating the space, showing the shadow of the plants outside my window over the inside of the room.

“The door,” I breathe. Even though I’m fairly certain he and I are the only ones here this late, and in the middle of a storm, the last thing I want is for a custodian to come walking through.

Elliot pulls away from me hesitantly, then turns and locks the door.

The clickingsound echoes through the room, like an acknowledgment from the two of us that we know what we’re doing. That we arenotfriendly colleagues.

He steps back between my legs, his palm on the tops of my thigh, his fingers splaying out over the bare skin. I’m wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top today, and with his other hand, he draws the strap of my tank down my shoulder, the scrape of the fabric far too sensual.

“Sophie,” Elliot starts, his voice sounding pained. “About what I said?—”

I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want him to write this off before it even happens. So, instead, I rise up and kiss him again, shaking my head and reaching for his belt buckle.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, my lips brushing against his when I speak. I flick my gaze up, meet his eyes, hope I look as nonchalant as I want. “Let’s just… have fun.”

He swallows, and I track the movement with my eyes. My fingers are still working, and when I get his pants loose, I push them down his hips, a breath rushing out of me when I palm him, already hard.

“Okay,” he chokes, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and shimmying them down my legs. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 21

ELLIOT

All night, I dream about Sophie Kendall.

When we finished in her office, I wanted to take her home with me. Get something to eat — but it was late, and Sophie was already moving toward her car, waving to me, acting like it wasn’t a big deal.

But I wanted it to last longer. I want to have more time with her, not just be limited to hotel rooms and office quickies.

When I wake up, just a minute before my alarm, I know one thing with complete certainty: I don’t want to justhave funwith Sophie Kendall.

I have to talk to her, to take back what I said. Figure out a way to make this work. I’ve never seen a woman for more than a few weeks at a time before, but I’ve also never met a woman like Sophie Kendall.

But I can’t talk to her about it today. Because the San Francisco Fahrenheit arrived in Dallas last night, and the game today determines whether or not the Bolts will be heading to the playoffs.

When I open the wardrobe to grab my outfit for today, I skip the suit and pull on a jersey — a Dallas Bolts jersey with no number on the back. For a moment, I’d thought about adding Sophie’s old number to it, but decided against it.

I dress, jump on a quick video call with Skylar, take a few more meetings, then make my way to the car to head to the stadium.

The win today will be huge for the Bolts. It won’t matter for Clark one way or another — San Francisco has already secured their spot — but it would still be nice to beat them.

When I arrive, fans are already milling about, smoke pumping from the concession stand, the smell of barbecue floating through the air.

“Sir.” I turn to find Skylar waiting for me just after the ticket-taker, wearing a jersey with one of the goalie’s numbers on it and a sparkling tattoo on her cheek. “Did you want to go over the?—”

“Not now,” I say, waving my hand and shaking my head. “Come on, let’s go find our seats.”

Skylar doesn’t argue, looking even more excited than I am, and we climb through the stands together, finding Rhett and Steven right where I saw them last time.

“Suit and tie!” Rhett says, standing and clapping his hand into mine, doing that bro-hug thing where you get pulled in for a half-hug. “You made it! And without the business attire.”

“Big one today.” I sit down, situate myself on the bench. Below, down on the field, players from both teams are milling around.