Page 104 of Manhattan Bossholes

“I’m sorry,” I panted.

“What are you sorry about?” Vincent asked incredulously.

“That was the worst excuse for a sixty-nine ever. Call it a thirty-four-point-five.”

“Well, I’ll let you fuck your way to any number you want,” he said as he stood up. “C’mere.”

Vincent pulled me off the couch, then turned to grab a condom from his wallet. I took in his perfect body as he rolled it on. The well-defined chest with a scatter of dark hair, the two perfect cuts at his waist that dipped down, the thick thighs, and of course, the gorgeous cock.

We were still totally exposed if Darcy walked through the door, but I didn’t care. Vincent wrapped one arm around my back and bounced me up into his arms, then walked us to the wall by the kitchen.

“Wait,” I said. “Are you…”

“Screwing you against the wall? Yes. Yes, I am.”

I laughed when he pushed me flush against it. It was ridiculous and impossible, and I loved it.

He pressed his mouth against mine as his hands cupped my breasts, and every thought blurred into one single craving—I needed him, inside me, filling me. I dropped one leg down as we shifted, bodies aligning, and then Vincent was there, pushing deep inside with the most delicious, aching pressure.

I wasn’t even sure how the physics of the whole thing worked, but I was suspended against the wall with Vincent driving into me. I bit my lip as the pressure started building again, but when Vincent dropped his head to take my nipple in his mouth, it all came to a peak.

I threw my head back, unable to hold it in any longer, and let out a shriek of pure, unfiltered pleasure. Moments later, Vincent followed, his release ripping through him as he let out a roar of satisfaction against the curve of my neck.

We came to a gradual stop, laughing, sweaty, and satisfied.

Vincent hugged me close to his body as he started walking toward the bedrooms. “Let me guess, the messy one is yours.”

I giggled. “Maybe.”

He kicked the door all the way open, and he dropped me onto my bed. It was nothing like the opulence Vincent was used to, but the modesty of my little space didn’t seem to bother him.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said as he headed for the bathroom.

He was back in my arms a few minutes later, kissing my forehead, the tip of my nose, my neck.

“I’m so lucky,” he sighed as he nestled even closer to me.

“We’re so lucky,” I corrected him.

We fell asleep that way—entwined, bodies relaxed, hearts finally at ease.

My dreams had never been sweeter.

31

VINCENT

“Idon’t know why he suggested a hotel restaurant for lunch,” I said to Piper as we strolled into the Mandarin Oriental. “Something’s up.”

“Like what?” she asked as she tripped along beside me, holding my hand tightly. “Wanting to try something different is bad?”

I frowned at her. “Not at all, it just isn’t the sort of thing he’d normally do. He has his favorite spots around the city, and he sticks to them. This is unusual.”

I felt uneasy as I tried to guess what his reason might be. Did my father want a neutral space for delivering his latest bombshell? He’d been more grounded than usual since the bike messenger accident, both physically and emotionally, but I still didn’t trust that his adrenaline junkie days were over.

We threaded through the crowds of tourists and travelers in the lobby to the elevators, where we mercifully managed to catch one with just the two of us. I pulled Piper into my arms once the doors closed.

“Did I mention that you look beautiful?”