Bossy(25)

I try not to think too much about how I’d like to be the one to lick that off instead. “No, but a hi would’ve been nice.”

“Oh. Hi.” He shrugs and disappears into his office, closing the door behind him.

He’s been more bearable since our meeting with Cooper, but maybe that’s just because we’ve been too busy to bother each other as much. I still can’t tell if he’s a nice guy with moments of jerk, or a jerk with moments of nice.

My phone buzzes. I don’t even bother to look. Messages have been ticking in from Michael all morning.

Forgive me.

I <3 u.

I miss you.

Please call me.

I can’t let you go.

More and more of the same, and all of it’s too little, too late. The day after, he might’ve gotten me to listen. Two days after, and it was already getting iffy. Four months later... well, now it’s just sad.

What does he think is going to happen? That after all he’s done, he can just send a couple of sappy messages and I’ll take him back? He’s got to be out of his freaking mind.

My phone buzzes again. I can’t help it. My eyes flit over to see the preview.

I’m so sorry, babe. :(

With a sigh, I flip my phone over, so I can’t see the screen. I don’t have time for this. He’s the idiot who chose to throw away three years of our relationship over some big-breasted blonde. There’s no way I’m letting him back in, and good riddance.

Why do all the men in my life have to be such idiots?





Declan


Why do all the women in my life have to be so much fucking trouble?

Outside my door, one of them sits there, reminding me of why I have my one night rule. More than that, and suddenly you have to worry about feelings and shit. They expect things. Things that don’t just include a good solid fuck.

Because we did that already, and yet here we are, still going in circles.

We’re dancing around each other like horny teenagers, afraid to make the first move. Every day I’m tempted to put my finger on the intercom and call her into my office.

In my fantasies, she kicks off her shoes and loosens her top before asking me what she can do for me in that husky voice she gets when she’s turned on. I roll my chair back, and she kneels between my legs, licking those sexy lips. Leaning forward, unbuttoning my pants. Opening her pretty mouth. Sticking out her tongue while looking up at me with those big brown eyes.

My pants grow uncomfortably tight at the thought.

I sigh. I can totally imagine how it’d go down for real, and going down wouldn’t actually be part of it.

I should ask to have her moved to some other case, but then she wouldn’t be here anymore, and that sounds just as bad. She thinks I’m a jackass, but I’m not letting her go yet. Not while she’s still this ripe, succulent forbidden fruit hanging just out of reach. A fruit I want to pluck.

And then something that rhymes with pluck.

There’s talking outside my door. It’s too muffled to hear what they’re saying, but it’s Claire and some guy. She laughs, relaxed and easy. Not pissed off and throwing shit, like she does with me. Not knowing what they’re talking about annoys me. I haven’t seen anyone—other than me that is—sniffing around her, but a sexy little intern who’s about to be related to one of the partners? It wouldn’t surprise me if it wasn’t just the donuts attracting attention.

She’s vulnerable; bad breakup, emotional case, asshole boss. If anyone hurts her, I’ll have to smash their face in. The idea of someone else getting in there and taking advantage of her bothers me more than it should.

What the hell? I’m not actually starting to like her, am I?

If it was just Claire, I could deal. Being friends—preferably with benefits—wouldn’t be the end of the world.

But it’s not just her. There’s her goddamn mother.

Annette drives me up the fucking wall. I’ve promised Dad to stop giving her a hard time, but she’s taking over his home. My home until I went to college. New paint, new furniture, new rugs, new paintings, new fucking everything. All being rushed in to get ready for their damn wedding. Every new thing pushes something else out, and I’m watching her erase every trace of Mom we have left, while Dad just smiles like the sun rises and sets in her pussy.

What is it with these women? How have they managed to wrap both of us around their delicate little fingers?

I check my email, not surprised to see a note from my father. He finally heard about my trouble with Cooper. It drives me crazy to have him watching over my shoulder the whole time. Dad knows I’m one of his best. If there’s anyone who’s made him more money this last quarter, I’d like to know who the fuck it is. No one, that’s who. But apparently we care about decorum and not acting like a kid.