And for the first time, I don’t want to run.
CHAPTER7
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
Lety
I’m dating my boss. Me, the woman who swore off all men, is dating the man who signs my checks. I haven’t decided if I’m the luckiest or dumbest woman alive. I’m still uncertain if this is a good idea, or if this is a dream I’ll be waking up from soon enough. Either way, I can’t regret my decision to stop running from César and let him pursue me.
When I left his office that evening he ravished my pussy, I expected eyes on me. Surely my face and slightly wrinkled clothing were a dead giveaway I had the boss on his knees. Except, no one paid me any attention. Not even when César walked me out to my car, walking far closer than appropriate, and kissed me in the middle of the parking garage.
Since then, I can’t quite shake the tension in my body, like I’m waiting for the second shoe to drop.
It’s been three days since our tryst in his office—and over a week since I’ve been back to work. He asked to take me out over the weekend, but I needed time alone to truly sober up and make sure I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. I’m so damn tired of being lonely, and César seems like he truly wants this. Wants me. I would be foolish not to give us a shot, right?
I tell myself I’m ready to fall back into my usual routine, to find comfort in the rhythm of the workday. But the truth is, my nerves are shot to hell. My stomach flips with every step closer to the building, and anticipation is wound tight in my chest like a coil ready to snap.
I feel like a teenager sneaking around with the older boy her parents warned her about—thrilled by the danger but constantly glancing over her shoulder. The memory of his mouth on my skin, the way he said my name like it belonged to him, is still fresh and electric in my mind. It’s exhilarating…and terrifying. I’m walking a fine line between excitement and anxiety, and my body doesn’t know how to respond.
I’m nearly at the front entrance to the office, an hour early to work, when something darkens the entrance and I feel a presence behind me. A moment later, two muscular arms wrap around my center, pulling me back against a firm, hard body. My body relaxes against his, knowing it’s César before he speaks.
“Good morning, Ms. Zavala.” His lips brush against my neck, placing soft kisses that send a shiver racing down my spine.
“Morning, Mr. Estrada. Has anyone told you it’s highly inappropriate to sneak up and kiss your employees?”
He chuckles, his breath tickling my neck. “I assure you, mi reina, my thoughts are much more inappropriate than my actions.”
My body heats in response and wetness pools between my thighs. “Oh?” I manage to squeak out, too turned on to be embarrassed by my breathy tone.
“Mm-hmm. Come with me,” he murmurs and wraps his hand around my wrist, gently tugging me. “Work can wait.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmur. I half expect him to take me to his office, but he leads me back to the parking garage. “Where are you taking me?”
“Do you not like surprises?” He smirks, leading me toward a large, black Ford. The truck towers over the other cars in the garage by several feet. César touches the door handle and there’s an audible click. The headlights flicker, and he opens the back door. “Get that pretty ass back there.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Even as I say it, I find myself crawling into the back seat of his truck. The air is still cool from the AC, not having warmed up in the unusually warm morning air.
“No, I didn’t,” is all he says. He doesn’t move until I climb into the truck, and only then does he follow, sliding into the seat beside me. The doors shut with a heavythunk, and the dark tint of the windows turns the space into a private cocoon that shields us from curious eyes and the world outside.
He turns to me, gaze steady, as he says, “I’m not taking you anywhere.” The finality in his tone hangs between us like a closed door.
“Then what?—”
He kisses me. He has a habit of cutting off my questions with panty-soaking kisses and I can’t bring myself to be mad about it. His hand moves to cup my jaw, while the other tangles in my hair, pulling my head back just enough that I have no choice but to submit to his will.
“It’s going to be torture working next to you all day and not being able to touch you,” he growls against me. “So, I’m indulging now. I’m burying my cock into that sweet pussy, savoring every fucking second of it, mi reina. Going to fill you with my cum, so you’ll feel me inside of you all day.”
“Fuck, yes. César, I need you.” I claw at his clothes with ravenous intent, wanting them gone.
His cocky laugh makes me snarl. “So fucking needy, Lety.”
“Shut up.”
This time, I’m the one who kisses him. It’s rough, furious, and starved, like I haven’t kissed him in years. There’s no softness, no hesitation. Just teeth, tongue, and frustration. It’s because I am angry—angry that he makes me feel this wild, desperate, and out of control. No man should have that much power over me, yet César does.
My hands go straight for his pants, fingers fumbling with the zipper like I’ve lost all patience. When I brush over the hard line of his dick, he groans. The sound is deep and guttural, like it is being ripped from his throat, is toe-curling.
It unleashes something in both of us.
