Page 144 of Unmanageable

“Cash,” she breathes. “The boxes… we have to move the…”

“The boxes aren’t going anywhere,” I mutter against her collarbone. “And neither am I.”

I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist with a familiarity that sets my nerves on fire. Her boots thud against the side of a crate marked FRAGILE, but I don’t slow down.

We don’t make it to the bedroom.

We don’t even make it past the kitchen island.

I set her down on the cold granite of the counter, and the sudden chill makes her let out a sharp gasp. She wraps her arms around my neck and yanks me flush against her.

“You’re very aggressive for someone who just moved in,” she pants, her eyes narrowing. “Is this how you treat all your landlords?”

“I carried three boxes of your ridiculous shoe collection halfway across the building,” I say. “I think I’ve earned the right to skip the pleasantries.”

My hands are everywhere, unbuttoning her blouse with a frantic energy. She’s just as desperate, her fingers fisting in the fabric of my shirt and yanking it over my head, tossing it somewhere near the toaster with a triumphant little smirk.

I kick a heavy box of books out of the way to get between her legs, the sound of cardboard sliding across wood echoing through the empty space.

“I thought we were… negotiating… the floor plan,” she says. “You’re deviating from the plan, Cash.”

“Negotiations are closed, Scottie.”

I slide my hands under her thighs, my fingers splaying wide as I lift her hips, tilting her pelvis up until she’s arched perfectly toward me.

As I find her clit, she lets out a broken, high-pitched moan that echoes off the bare kitchen walls. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her nails biting deep, leaving marks that will definitely bloom into bruises by morning.

“Cash, please.”

I don’t give her what she wants. Not yet. I lean in, my mouth grazing the shell of her ear, letting out a low chuckle.

“Please what, Scottie? You’re the one who constantly reminds me that you’re still the boss. So tell me… is this how you usually handle your star talents? Spreading yourself out for them on a Tuesday afternoon?”

She lets out a choked, desperate sound, her hips bucking instinctively against my hand. Even completely undone, she finds her teeth.

“You’re an arrogant prick. Seriously. Just stop talking and do your job. That’s an order.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I sink into her in one deep thrust that stretches her until she’s gasping for air. She’s tight, her pussy clenching around me in desperate, involuntary pulses as she tries to stifle a cry, her teeth grazing the skin of my shoulder.

“Still think you’re the one calling the shots here?” I drive into her harder, my chest slamming against hers.

She looks exposed, her lips swollen and parted, but she stares right back at me, her eyes fierce. “You’re doing exactly what I want you to do, Cash. You’re completely under my control right now and you don’t even know it.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “Now shut up and move faster.”

She cries out my name and I follow her a heartbeat later, my vision blurring as I lose myself completely. When I pull out, the sound is wet and heavy in the quiet room. I pull her head into my chest, my hand stroking her hair as the adrenaline slowly ebbs away.

“So,” I clear my throat. “About that bookshelf placement?”

She lets out a weak, breathless laugh against my skin, her fingers tracing the marks she left on my back. “I think… I think we can leave it for tomorrow. I can’t feel my legs anyway.”

The boxes remain unpacked.

The “flow” of the room is a total disaster.