Forbidden Boss (Nikki and Rome's Story) (Manhattan Billionaires)

27. Rome

My skin itchedwith her absence. I focused on work as best I could for the morning, but my eyes kept drifting to the time, then to the door and the elevator beyond.

Cursing myself, I turned back to the screen in front of me and tried to focus on the latest numbers my finance team had sent through. But the numbers on the screen blurred as I thought of the way Nikki had looked wrapped in my shirt, splayed out on my desk yesterday morning.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed my glasses up to my forehead and rubbed my eyes. This was exactly why I never got involved with a woman—not truly. Not to the point where I was stroking her stomach while I fucked her, thinking that I wouldn’t mind seeing it swollen with my child.

Wasn’t that some kind of messed-up, lust-induced delusion? But it’d crossed my mind. More than just crossed it, actually. The thought of breeding her had made me come so hard I couldn’t see straight for a full three minutes.

And I was hard now while I thought about it. What was wrong with me?

“Rome, I’ve got a message from Garrett. He wants to go over the schedule. I slotted him in for lunch—” Clara poked her head through the door and frowned at me. “Are you okay?”

“What?” I rolled forward, thankful my desk was solid oak. “I’m fine.”

“You look—did the weekend go okay?”

“The weekend?” My voice sounded weird.

Clara stared at me for a beat. “With Garcia?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah, yeah, it was good.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. What’s that about Garrett?”

“I emailed you the details. Do you want me to get you a coffee or something? Sparkling water? Aspirin?”

“I’m fine, Clara. That’ll be all.”

She was still frowning when she closed the door, and I let out a soft curse. This had gone too far. I needed to get rid of Nikki, because she was intruding on my ability to do my job. And how could I be surprised about that? Letting people in meant weakening yourself. If I wanted to continue being successful, I needed to stay sharp. I needed to stay alone.

Anger burned off the remnants of my lust. Anger at myself, at Nikki, at Clara for noticing something was off. I glared at my computer screen and sent my notes back to the finance department, then attended to the email Clara had sent about Dean Garrett, grimacing. The man was a time-waster, but I couldn’t afford to turn him away right now. I’d have to meet with him to go over details that we’d already clarified.

I scowled at the full schedule of events she’d dropped on my desk this morning for approval.

Pulling the paper closer, I uncapped a red pen and slashed two-thirds of the events. I needed to start cutting down the amount of time I spent with Nikki. She was distracting me from what truly mattered. She was making me think about things that would never be mine. A relationship. A child.

Who was I to think I was capable of caring for a child? What would I do with a kid? The best thing for it would be to be far away from me, in the care of someone who would take care of it properly.

And why was I thinking about this again?

Squinting at the sheet, I narrowed my eyes at the Thanksgiving dinner I had to attend at my parents’ estate. Could I get away with going alone, or would that cause too many problems? The following week was—the Nutcracker ballet?

Was Clara out of her mind?

“Clara!”

She poked her head back in. “Yes?”

“Why am I going to the ballet?”

“Wilbur Monk gifted you his private box. Apparently at that luncheon a couple of weeks ago, Nikki got in a conversation with Roseanne about doing ballet for a year as a child but never having the opportunity to go see professionals. They sent over the tickets last week.” She pushed the door open a little wider, leaning against the frame as she frowned at me. “If you don’t want to go, I can come up with an excuse, but it was a thoughtful gift, and I think?—”

“I have to go, otherwise they might take offense.”

Clara pinched her lips and nodded.

“Fine,” I said. “Thank you.”

The door closed gently behind her, and my heart thumped uncomfortably. A few of these upcoming events I could reasonably attend alone. But if I went to too many on my own, people would begin to notice, especially with how many of them had taken to Nikki.

Why did she have to be so damn likable? Why did she have to be so perfect for me—for the job?

“Knock, knock,” a voice said, and my anger evaporated. Nikki smiled at me in the doorway, then lifted a familiar white bakery bag, dangling it between nails painted a fresh, bright red. “I made a pit stop on the way here,” she said.

She’d brought me cookies. I sat here and cursed her existence, and she’d gone and done something thoughtful for me.

This woman would be the death of me, and I wouldn’t even complain about it. How could I push her away when she was so damn perfect?

I leaned back in my chair and watched her approach. Her hips swayed with every step, her camel-colored dress peeking through from between the lapels of her wool pea coat. Her shoes were impractical red heels that matched her nails and lips to perfection.

She propped herself on the edge of my desk and I didn’t have the strength of will to tell her to get down. Instead, I watched the way her dress lifted to reveal a delicious length of leg while she put the bakery bag down on top of my red-marked schedule, digging inside for a warm chocolate-chip cookie.

My mouth watered, and it wasn’t because of the cookie. Nikki broke off a piece, chocolate dripping over her finger, and brought it to my lips. I kept my mouth closed as I watched her, wanting to kiss that impertinent smile off her red lips.

She rubbed the melted chocolate edge of the cookie on my lip and sing-songed, “You know you want it.”

I did want it, and I wanted her. I wanted a whole lot of things I couldn’t have, and apparently I was weak, because I opened my lips and accepted the bite. When Nikki went to pull away, I wrapped my hand around her wrist and pulled her fingers into my mouth.

A soft moan sounded through her closed lips as I ran my tongue over her fingers.

Every thought I’d had before she walked in was forgotten. It was easy to think about distancing myself from her when she wasn’t here, dark-haired, intoxicating, moaning at the pull of my mouth on her skin. How could I resist a woman like this? How could I go back to the infrequent, impersonal trysts I’d had before? How could I possibly give her up? Why would I?

“Delicious,” I said, relishing the rise and fall of her chest. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” she replied, breathless.

I glanced at the bag, then at her. My brows arched meaningfully.

Her teeth dug into that plush lower lip I loved so much, eyes darting to my office door.

“Worried someone will walk in?” I said, my fingers dancing up her calf.

“Rome…”

“I’ll have the rest of that cookie now,” I said, noticing the way she squirmed ever so slightly on my desk, the way her fingers trembled as she reached into the bag.

My girl loved being told what to do. She loved the risk of this moment. Hell, I loved it too. Being with her was the only time I felt alive.

Another piece of cookie appeared at my lips, and I frowned at her. “Bite-size pieces, Nikki,” I chastised.

A gust of breath escaped her as she broke the piece in two before presenting it to me again. I caught her fingers in my mouth once more. Her breaths became ragged. I smiled at the way she squeezed her thighs together while I watched.

No, I wasn’t going to let her go. And I wasn’t attending these boring events on my own. And I also wasn’t going to deny her the chance to attend the ballet if that’s what she wanted to do. Hell, I was mostly mad at myself that I hadn’t thought of it first—that I hadn’t even known she’d want to.

This girl was mine to cherish. Mine to spoil. Mine to keep.

It was easy to remember that when a flush was draped across her cheeks from the simple brush of my tongue on her fingertips.

We finished the cookie. I stood, and she spread her knees to give me space between them. Perfect, willing woman. Her gaze was heavy-lidded as she watched me, chin tilted up like she needed my kiss.

She needed something else too. I slid my hand up under her skirt, cupping the warm, wet heat of her. When I squeezed, she let out a whimper. “Is this what you want?” I asked, and the gravel in my voice made it almost unrecognizable. “You want me to make you come?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s why you came in here teasing me with cookies, with that dress and those shoes?”

Her lips kicked, a sassy arch lifting her brow. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to make you feel good. Thank you for a nice weekend.”

I massaged her core and let out a huff. “I bet you did.”

When I pulled my hand away, she moved her hips to chase me. Greedy woman. I smacked her lightly on the gusset of her wet panties, and her lips fell open on a breath, hips rolling to meet my hand. My cock was so hard it ached.

“We have a meeting to go to,” I told her, and I twitched her skirt back into place. Her pout made me laugh, and I brushed my lips against hers. I pulled her off the desk and steadied her as she stood. “And Nikki,” I said, “you’re not allowed to touch yourself until I say so. Not allowed to ease that ache between your legs until I do it for you.”

She glared at me. “This is the last time I’m ever doing something nice for you.”

I grinned. “I doubt that very much.”