Foreplay with the Boss: Billionaires of Boston

22. Jameson

Myattempt to distance myself from Kat went to shit when I saw her name on my phone screen. I told myself I needed to talk to her for work, so I would just keep it professional, no harm, no foul.

I’d started out strong, but I was exhausted, and she’d made that joke about firing Rob over coffee, and I was a goner. When I told her it was good to hear her voice, I was telling the truth. There was something calming about her sweet voice. The innocence of it made me want to do not-so-innocent things to her, and once those thoughts rushed in, my self-control crumbled faster than a gambler at the races.

I’d flinched when she called me out for not returning her sexy voicemail, but pride had also filled me—she hadn’t held back. By the end of the call, there was no holding back, just her taking the reins and working me up into a sexual frenzy that refused to be alleviated with cheap imitations. What I needed was her body under mine, my name spilling from her lips as she begged for release. I’d give it to her, too, but not until I’d teased and tortured out every last drop of pleasure.

For the next two days, I worked my ass off and scared every employee working with me to get the account to where it should’ve already been. My patience wore thin and I despised the fact that I’d had to fly over and do everything myself. Usually I wouldn’t have minded. I liked to travel and the challenge of my job.

But now that I only had limited time with a woman who had driven me into the obsessed range, it was a nuisance. For the first few days here, I’d tried to deny the way thoughts of her consumed me, but I didn’t bother anymore. I was obsessed with her body and all the things I wanted to do with it. Obsessed with her voice, and last night, when I’d finally reached my hotel room, I called her just to hear it. Her sleep-roughened rasp made it clear I’d woken her up, and as I climbed into bed, we talked about our days, falling easily into conversation. One thing led to another, and I demanded she show me what she was wearing.

After teasing me for a moment, she’d given in, and once I caught sight of her hard nipples in that silky peach nightgown, the dirty talk started.

I showed her mine, she showed me hers, and I instructed her to demonstrate exactly how she liked to be touched. Then I took over, telling her what I’d do if I was there. It was so fucking hot watching her come apart at my words that I came right along with her, but it made me hate the distance between us that much more. I was still thinking about it as I walked through the airport on Wednesday evening, my thoughts on getting home so I could get to do all the deliciously depraved things to Kat that I promised I would.

I was a man of my word, after all.

Or maybe not, because I noticed my flight now had the word “delayed” next to it.

You’vegottobefuckingkiddingme.

But they weren’t kidding, and the universe clearly hated me.

Two and a half hours of waiting at the gate later, the airline informed the rest of the passengers and me that they were canceling the flight due to mechanical problems and that the next flight out was at six am tomorrow morning.

Which meant that I wasn’t going to show up at Kat’s door in a few hours, the way I’d promised her I would last night.

Not that I was one to usually gamble with mechanical problems, but I thought of Kat waiting for me in bed, wearing something lacy and tiny, and I was ready to climb onboard and risk it anyway.