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

28. Nikki

The inklingthat I might be in over my head entered my mind as I sat in that boardroom, as horny as I’d ever been, trying to focus on the schedule projected on the far wall. The rasp of my underwear against my tender flesh was almost too much, especially when I glanced across the long table and found Rome’s gaze on me.

“…and Raphael Garcia has approved our initial storyboards, and he wants to take you out to dinner to talk through the new plan,” Clara explained. “He specifically asked for Nikki to be there. I’ve slotted that in for Thursday evening.”

Rome’s gaze left mine, and I felt like I could breathe. He nodded at Clara. “Good. Send me the names of the team members that got that over the line this weekend and I’ll head down to thank them in person.”

“Will do,” Clara said, fingers flying over her tablet. A chime sounded from Rome’s phone a moment later.

The woman was an efficiency machine. I tried to uncross my eyes to focus on what was going on. The perfume commercial. My idea. Right.

Minor tweaks were made to the schedule, and I jotted down some notes about events. I’d have to research some of the upcoming projects and clients and make sure I had the appropriate clothing to wear to a few of these formal events. There was one white-tie gala that would require a new dress, but I thought I could manage the rest on what I already had.

“That’s it, then,” Clara said. “Thanks for your time.”

Rome stood, straightening his tie. His gaze landed on me as I busied myself writing notes, and, fine, maybe avoiding his gaze.

“Jordan,” he said, voice sharp.

I looked up. “Yes?”

“Are you coming?”

I frowned, glancing at the page. “Coming where? I thought today was clear.”

“Down to thank the people who are going to make your idea for Garcia’s commercial a reality.”

“Oh,” I said softly, straightening. “Really?”

“You should see what they came up with,” he said. “You’re the one who understands what Garcia really wants.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my mouth. I slammed my notebook shut and tucked it into my purse. My heart thumped as Rome came closer, opening the conference room door for me. I followed in his wake as we cut to the elevators, my gaze tracing the broad line of his shoulders, his trim waist, his long legs.

It felt like I was floating. I couldn’t believe that one of my ideas would actually be useful, that I could be part of something bigger than myself. And when the elevator doors closed on the two of us, I knew there was something else that gave me that floaty, delicious feeling.

Rome watched me from the other side of the space, his gaze dark. One look was enough for lust to spark in my veins. I was desperate for him to touch me, to make good on his promises. But he just let one side of his lips kick up, then glanced at the changing numbers above the door. When the elevator slowed, he moved closer, his hand sliding across my lower back.

I shivered, tendrils of heat wrapping through my abdomen.

We stepped out of the elevator, and I wondered if my face was very red. It certainly felt flushed. But no one gave me any weird looks until we entered a section of the office that held a few cubicles and group-working desks. A few heads popped up above the cubicles to stare like meerkats looking out for danger.

On the other side of the room, a few people clustered around a white table. I recognized Ophelia when she glanced up from the papers they were poring over. She straightened at the sight of Rome, her wide-eyed expression turning slightly confused when it landed on me.

Rome’s shoulder brushed mine. He greeted most of the people around the table with a nod, then said, “Ophelia.”

She blinked away from me and beamed at him. “Hi, Mr. Blakely.”

“The client is pleased with the work you’ve done so far. Thank you for turning it around so quickly.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” she said, then turned to me, frowning slightly. “I thought you were fired.”

Now, one thing about me is that I’m a staunch member of the Women Supporting Women club. But the way her eyes sharpened on me made my hackles rise. I gave her a toothy smile. “I was,” I said.

Her brow wrinkled.

Rome’s hand slipped down the back of my arm to my elbow, and I resisted the urge to shiver. “Nikki’s the one who came up with the idea for the revised commercial,” Rome explained. “She’s the one who pitched it to Garcia.”

“Was she,” Ophelia said, and it sounded more like a statement than a question. “How wonderful.”

“Show us what you’ve got so far,” Rome said, and we were herded through to a conference room. Rome pulled out a chair for me, which Ophelia noted with a glance in our direction.

I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she was making it pretty hard. Maybe she had a crush on Rome, or she didn’t like the fact that I’d popped up somewhere she hadn’t expected. Either way, it seemed I didn’t have a friend in her. It probably didn’t help that neither Rome nor I had really explained the nature of our relationship. How could we, when we didn’t know ourselves?

I sat down on the creaky, faux leather chair, and Rome took a seat kitty-corner from me, rolling the chair back slightly so he could rest his elbows on his thighs. The lights were dimmed as Ophelia fired up the projector to take us through the work they’d done so far.

She was halfway through the storyboard when the touch of Rome’s bare hand on my knee nearly made me jump out of my chair. He squeezed, and I forced myself to relax.

I glared at him, and he didn’t even meet my gaze—but the edge of his lip twitched.

His fingers made tiny circles on the inside of my knee, and I forced myself to keep my breathing steady. On the other side of the table from me, Ophelia clicked through the slides to show what models they’d already booked for the shoot.

“Two of the models we used for the original shoot aren’t available, but we should still be able to use some of the footage we got with them if we need it,” she said.

Rome’s finger moved up an inch, drawing a complicated pattern on the inside of my thigh. He was barely above my knee, and my pulse pounded between my legs. This was torture and so, so inappropriate.

And for some insane reason, I loved it. I spread my legs the slightest bit, and Rome’s hand slid up another inch. As he stroked my skin, my chair creaked, making me jump.

“The only other thing is that the studio is booked out for the next month,” Ophelia said, glancing up.

Rome didn’t remove his hand from my leg as he studied the screen and said, “Delay the East Coast Candles shoot and slot this in at the end of the week. We want to get it over the line as soon as possible.” His voice was businesslike as his fingers were gentle, teasing the tender flesh miles away from where I wanted them.

Ophelia dropped her gaze to the screen with a nod. “Got it.”

Rome’s hand slipped higher up my leg, and I squeezed my thighs shut, glaring at him. He still didn’t meet my gaze—or move his hand.

I doubted Ophelia could see anything happening under the table. And even if she did, I found myself not caring. She was quick to throw me under the bus because of an honest accident that could have been prevented if I hadn’t been locked in a supply room for two hours.

“Done,” she said with a nod. “I’ve scheduled that in and will coordinate everything with the studio team.”

Rome nodded and stood, smoothly taking his hand away from my leg. Ophelia bundled her computer up, turned the lights on, and led us out into the main office. It took all my focus to keep my legs steady as we made our way back to the elevators, neither of us saying a word until the doors closed and locked us inside.

Rome crowded me against the wall, his hand pressing between my legs over my dress. I let out a whimper as he ground the heel of his hand against my clit.

“Are you wet?” he asked, voice a bare rasp.

I glared at him. “Find out for yourself.”

His smile was quick and blazing, made of pure delight. “I intend to.”

The doors opened, and he swept his arm—and the hand that moments ago had been pressed to my aching core—toward the open space beyond. I realized with a start that we weren’t on the top floor, but the lobby. I’d been so focused on the feel of his palm between my legs I hadn’t realized we were going down, and not up.

I needed to get my head checked. This was so bad. This was out of control. This was going to bite me in the ass.

Unfortunately, there was also a possibility that Rome would bite me in the ass—literally—and that possibility held more sway in my lust-addled, logic-abandoned mind. I followed him out of the lobby to the waiting car. The driver nodded to us as I slid inside, followed by Rome, and then closed the door.

The privacy screen was up. My heart rattled.

“Where are we going?” I asked as the car began to move.

“You’re coming right here,” he said, and wrapped his hands around my waist to pull me on top of him so I was straddling his thigh, my knees hanging in the air off the edge of the seat. I crossed my legs on top of his calf for balance, gripping his shoulders as I gasped at the pressure on my clit.

“Grab the seat behind my head,” he said in a dark voice, the one I was powerless to resist. “Good. Now make yourself come on my thigh like the good girl I know you are.”

The glare I gave him would wither leaves, and for some reason it made one of those delighted smiles bloom over his lips. He bounced his knee the tiniest bit, making me bite back a groan, and said, “You have”—he checked his watch and tilted his head from side to side—“about ten minutes.”

I think it was the sparkling look in his eyes that did me in. The expression on his face that was light and fizzy and just—just happy. That’s what made my heart swell in my chest. That’s what made me want to take this man’s hand and follow him wherever he led me.

I rocked my hips and heat immediately began to spiral through my core. Rome kept his hands off me, but he leaned forward to nuzzle at my neck, to lay soft kisses on my jaw and neck. “You’re doing so well, gorgeous,” he said, and I bit back a whimper. “You look so perfect when you’re about to come for me.”

“Rome—I—” I gasped and rocked harder. “This feels so good.”

“You like riding my thigh? Like making my pant leg wet so everyone will know what you did?”

No. But also yes. I whimpered and ground myself against him, using my arms for leverage as I rode his leg while he watched. He nibbled on my jaw and huffed when my movements became more frantic. The rasp of my panties against my core was too much and not enough. I felt so empty.

The car turned and I had to clamp my thighs around his to stay upright. Rome didn’t move a muscle to keep me there, but he did groan appreciatively, sending more sparks shooting through my veins.

I didn’t know how I’d gotten here. A few days ago, I was perfectly content to not have sex for long periods of time. Now one look, one touch, and this man had me rocking my core against his leg to get myself off.

I never should have bought him those cookies. Never should have started this.

“Need you,” I panted. With every rock of my hips, my nipples rasped against the fabric of my bra. I wanted him to wrench my dress off and suck my nipple into his mouth, and the fact that I knew he wouldn’t made them almost painfully sensitive.

“Keep going,” he replied softly, leaning his head back to watch me. “Keep rubbing that wet pussy on my leg like I told you to.”

“Please. Please, please. Touch me, Rome. Please.” My knuckles were striped white and red on the seat on either side of his head.

His smile turned a little wicked. “Love hearing you beg, gorgeous. Now come for me.”

I buried my face in his neck to muffle my cry. Pleasure detonated in my core, and my hands flew off the seat to wrap around his neck. When I came back to myself, Rome had his arms around me as he whispered sweet words of encouragement in my ear, peppering the sides of my face with kisses. He brought me back down to earth with soft strokes and murmured words, until I climbed off his lap and collapsed beside him.

We both stared at the little patch of wet on his thigh. His pants were a dark charcoal so it wasn’t too obvious, but it was plain to see once you knew it was there. My cheeks burned. Rome stroked the spot with his thumb, humming. “Good,” he said simply.

Then the car slowed, and Rome glanced at me. “We’re meeting Dean Garrett for lunch. The scuba diver, remember? He wants to go over a few details about the schedule for his project.”

I blinked. “What?” That wasn’t on the schedule.

“I know,” Rome said, eyes dark, “it could have been a phone call, but he insisted. I think he just wanted to see you again.” His lips curled in a satisfied smirk as he ran his finger down the center of my chest, where a thin sheen of moisture had coated my skin.

The glower I gave him was one of my best, and it made him throw his head back and laugh. I straightened my clothes and huffed. “Tell me you didn’t just make me ride your thigh as some alpha posturing bullshit with one of your business buddies. Tell me you’re not that much of an asshole, Rome.”

Rome leaned in and kissed my lips with more tenderness than I would have expected. “I made you ride my thigh because I’ve been desperate to make you come since the moment you walked into my office, Nikki. The fact that it might make Garrett wonder what put that pretty flush on your cheeks is just a bonus.”

The feminist in me should have been upset, but I found myself liking the fact that Rome wanted to stake his claim on me. I wasn’t just his plus-one today. I was just plain his.