His Revenge In My Bed

1. Josie

Outside, the world was moving, it was one in the afternoon, people were grabbing coffee, probably walking right past the tinted glass but inside, it was just the sound of my own ragged breathing. I shoved my knuckles into my mouth, biting down hard enough to break skin.

Anything to stop the sounds trying to claw their way out of my throat.

He didn't care about the risk. He liked it.

He was shoved between my legs, his shoulders taking up every inch of space I had left.

His tongue was torture, dragging over me like he had all the time in the world, even though my lunch break ended in ten minutes.

Every time he flicked against that one spot, my hips bucked off the leather seat.

I tried to lock my thighs around his head.

"Stop," I choked out, but my hands were buried in his hair, pulling him closer.

His hand slid up, fumbling under my blouse. When his palm hit my breast, I flinched. The sound of my work shirt crinkling made me snap a little back into reality.

I slapped at his wrist, "Don't-not now," I hissed, "I have to go back in. I can't have... wrinkles on my shirt."

My mom would kill me.

He simply looked up, his face slick with me, eyes looking at me with mischief. He gave me a mean little grin that told me he knew exactly how much I wanted this.

He grabbed the front of my shirt, then slowly started to unbutton my shirt, giving way to my bare skin. He shoved the fabric aside, baring my lace bra to the air-conditioned air.

And then he reached out, pinched my nipple through the lace, rolling it hard between his thumb and forefinger. A jolt of heat shot straight to my gut, making my toes curl. I forgot about the office. I forgot about the people outside. I just arched my back, my fingers digging into his scalp.

I arched my back, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer, unable to hold back any longer, "Please," I breathed, my voice breaking with need.

His response was to intensify his efforts, his tongue getting deeper, his lips sucking harder. I was on the edge, my body tensing, every nerve alight with pleasure.

"Yes," I hissed, my hips slamming against his mouth, "Right there. Right there."

He knew exactly what he was doing. He caught my gaze for a split second and then he gave me one last, heavy flick.

I didn't just shatter. I broke. My head hit the headrest and a loud sob of a moan ripped out of me, echoing off the car windows.

I couldn't breathe, I could only feel the waves of heat crashing through my thighs, making my muscles twitch and fail.

I was shaking so hard I thought I'd get sick, my fingers still white-knuckled in his hair as he stayed right there, catching every drop of my release.

He took his time, making sure I felt every lingering bit of it until I was a limp, useless mess on the leather seat. When he finally sat back, he looked like a wreck, hair ruined, face wet and shining with me, and that same arrogant, twisted smirk on his lips.

I stayed there for a minute, staring at the gray fabric of the car ceiling, my chest heaving like I'd just run a mile.

"God, I needed this," I managed to get out, and immediately tried to pull my shirt together, but my hands were shaking too much to fix the buttons.

He just grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him, and kissed me hard enough that I tasted myself on his tongue.

Pulling away, I scrambled to get my reflection in the rearview mirror, and fixed my hair. My face was flushed. I glanced down at the obvious tent in his pants and felt a flicker of guilt, but the clock on the dash was mocking me.

"I'd return the favor, seriously," I muttered, wiping a smudge of lipstick from my chin with my thumb, "But if I'm late to this meeting, I'm dead. My mom will actually skin me alive."

He sat there, chest heaving, watching me struggle with my buttons, "She still holding out on you? She still won't give you the promotion?"

"She thinks I'm 'distracted.' That I need to 'focus on the vision' or whatever corporate bullshit she's spewing today," I reached over, cupping his jaw, "But how do I tell her that I've got a boyfriend who thinks pulling over in a parking lot to wreck me is a better use of my time?

Look at me. I'm literally going to walk in there smelling like you. "

He let out a low, dark chuckle and pulled me in, his mouth crashing against mine one more time, "I don't care who smells me on your skin. I want them to know you're mine. I'm so obsessed with you that even a lifetime of moments like this wouldn't be enough."

I pulled back just an inch, my nose brushing his, my eyes narrowing, "You better mean that, Harrison.

Because I'm the 'forever' kind of crazy.

If you ever mess this up, if you even think about looking at someone else, I won't just leave you.

I'll ruin your life. I'll make sure you never sleep a full night again," I let a tiny smile touch my lips, "And I'm not being cute.

I will actually hunt you down and kill you. "

He stared at me for a beat, I saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. A strange look flashed in his eyes for a second before he hid it.

"Only a moron would walk away from this," he rasped.

"Yeah," I said, "Keep that in mind. Because all morning, while I was supposed to be rehearsing my slides, I was just thinking about what your mouth felt like. You're ruining my career, Harrison. Seriously."

He grinned then, "Maybe you should just quit. Work from my place. Naked. I'll give you all the 'breaks' you need."

"Yeah, because that'll definitely help me get ahead," I rolled my eyes, giving his shoulder a hard shove, "The second I get home tonight, you're paying for this. I'm finishing what you started."

"Definitely counting on it," he said as leaned over, popping the door lock for me, "Now go. Go crush that meeting so your mom gets off your back. I don't need a sad girlfriend haunting my apartment because she got fired for being late."

I grabbed my bag, took one last deep breath, "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck," he muttered, his eyes raking over me one last time, "Go knock 'em dead, Josie. I'll be waiting."

I slipped out of the car, adjusting my clothes one last time. I walked away, feeling his eyes on me, and I couldn't help but smile.

Harrison Brown was going to be my husband.

My forever.

My heart had been shattered back in college by a scumbag who cheated on me with my best friend, right in my own dorm bed. That betrayal used to haunt me, but Harrison had finally cleared my mind of the wreckage.

Harrison and I were a match made in heaven. It was as if God had found my perfect boyfriend checklist and handed me Harrison Brown. He was successful, he was obsessed with me, and he made me feel like the center of his world.

With my influence and his ambition, we would be unstoppable.

Thinking of him, I walked into the office and nodded at the staff. I stepped into the shiny, mirrored elevator, the metal doors slid shut behind me, and the ride to the top floor was smooth.

The elevator made a soft ding, and the doors opened to the main floor of Van Alen Dynamics Inc.

The white marble floors were shiny and clean under the bright lights.

The air smelled like fresh flowers from the vases around the room.

Expensive, modern art hung on the walls, making the office look fancy and rich, exactly the way my mother liked it.

I walked past the receptionist on this floor. She gave me a quick nod as her fingers moved fast over the keyboard. I kept walking down the wide hallway.

I reached the corner office at the very end. It was the biggest and most expensive room in the building. This was my mother's office. Helena Van Alen was a powerful woman who always got what she wanted.

She is a force to be reckoned with.

I paused for a moment before entering, taking a deep breath to calm myself. My mother was a proud woman, and living up to her expectations had been a lifelong goal. She demanded nothing short of excellence, and today I was determined to meet those standards.

"She's tied up for a few minutes," her secretary said without looking up, her voice as dry as the air-con, "She'll be in shortly."

I nodded, pushed the door open, and walked in. I went to her desk and looked out at the view for a moment before turning around. My eyes landed on a framed family photo, and I couldn't help but smile.

I picked it up. It was a picture of my family, but I only really saw one person.

My fingers touched the glass over the face of my father, Desmond Van Alen.

He was the man who had built this entire empire from nothing.

He worked with his bare hands until he was at the very top.

Everything I wanted to prove and everything I worked for started with him.

I could still see his face so clearly. Even though he died when I was a little girl, it felt like he had only been gone for one day.

Most people forget things as time passes, but not me.

I still felt like he was watching over everything he had built.

I leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the glass over his face.

Then, I carefully put the frame back on the desk in the exact same spot.

I did not like to sit still while I waited for my mother. I started looking through her things, letting my fingers slide over her papers and files. Each item felt like a piece of the great future I was born to take over.

One day, all of this would be mine. Josephine Van Alen, the youngest CEO in the history of Van Alen Inc. That was the future I envisioned, the goal I was determined to achieve within the next two years.

My eyes drifted to the TV, and a pang of sadness gripped my heart. I grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume. Matt's face filled the screen. I squeezed my eyes shut and sighed deeply.

Matthias Nicholson, the former Superintendent of the New York State Police, was also my mother's fiancé. He was the most powerful cop in the state, the man who controlled every officer from the city to the mountains. The news reporter announced that he had been missing for five months now.

Five months...

The stress of Matthias disappearance was wearing her down. My mother was tough, but this was different. You could see it in the way she walked. The spark in her eyes had gone dim, and whenever she tried to smile, it looked like it hurt.

Matthias and my mother had been friends for a very long time before they finally fell in love and decided to get married. He was my father's best friend, and he had always been there for me. He treated me like I was his own daughter, and he was the closest thing to a father I had left.

Every time I thought about him being gone, I felt a heavy knot of worry twisting in my stomach. I wanted to cry, but I kept my face blank and calm. I had to stay strong. If I showed any weakness, I was afraid my mother would finally fall apart.

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the tight feeling in my body. I turned the sound down, but Matt's smiling face was still there on the screen. I prayed that wherever he was, he was safe and alive. I wished I could do something to bring him back and stop my mother's pain, but no one could help.

I sat down in my mother's chair and opened her desk drawer. All the files were in perfect order. I pulled out the folder on one of the board members and started to read. My mom always checked the background of every person we did business with. She never missed a single detail.

I finished reading the file and put it away. But then, another folder caught my eye. It said "Brown, Harrison" on the front. I let out a quick breath of surprise.

What was this? Had my mother run a background check on Harrison? I grabbed the file and opened it. My heart started to beat fast against my ribs.

The first page made me stop completely. There was a photo of Harrison wearing a jacket with the word "Security" written on it. My stomach dropped. I blinked, hoping I was wrong, but the word was still there. I read it again and again, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

It wasn't a background check; it was an employment document. He was a security protection agent hired to protect Ms. Josephine Van Alen.

My eyes zeroed in on the words:

"Employed"

"Must remain undercover"

"Josephine's likes and dislikes"

"Must keep an eye on her at all times unless she is in her home or at the office"

"Don't let anyone get close"

"Break off friendships with certain girls"

And underneath that... there was a list.

My friends' names.

I stared at it, blinking like maybe the letters would change if I looked long enough. They didn't.

Harrison.

My mother hired him two years ago. As my security.

Two years.

My chest tightened. My heart started beating so hard it hurt. I read it again, slower this time, like maybe I misunderstood.

I didn't.

Harrison wasn't in love with me.

He was there because she put him there.

My throat burned. My hands began to shake.

They knew.

They planned it.

A hollow feeling spread through my stomach, heavy and sick. I felt stupid. Small.

Then the hurt cracked.

And something hot rushed in to take its place.

They played me.

My own mother, my boyfriend... they played me.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I turned the pages. Every sheet had more notes about Harrison. More rules. More orders.

"She likes Italian and Mexican food. She hates seafood."

"End any close relationships. Do not let another man get close."

It was all written so neatly. So cold, nothing was left to chance. Every look he gave me. Every late-night talk about our future. Every touch I thought meant something.

Planned.

Watched.

I used to think he was a miracle. A man who showed up at the right time. A gift from heaven.

He wasn't a miracle. He was paperwork. A task. A job from my mother's office.

My chest hurt. I wanted to scream, to let it rip out of me so loud it shattered the windows. But I swallowed it down. It burned all the way to my lungs. How could she do this to me? How could she treat me like a child who couldn't even choose her own boyfriend?

And Harrison...

How could he look at me like that? Hold me like that? Tell me he loved me?

Was he just following instructions?

Checking boxes?

The room started to spin. I felt sick. My blood was boiling, hot and heavy under my skin.

I slammed the file shut and shoved it back into the desk so hard the wood creaked in protest.

I couldn't tell what hurt more.

That my mother didn't trust me.

Or that Harrison never chose me at all.

Every memory of us shattered. The late nights. The laughing. The way he touched me in the car like it meant something.

I clung to those moments. I believed in them. Now they felt like lies pressed into my skin. None of it was real, not one second of it.

He wasn't my boyfriend. He was hired. Bought. Assigned.

The door flew open. My mother's heels struck the floor, her voice light as she spoke to her secretary, like the world hadn't just ended for me.

Then she saw me.

I stood up so fast the chair scraped behind me. The papers were clenched in my fist, crumpled from how hard I'd been holding them.

Her face went white.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking, breaking, burning all at once.

I held the papers up between us.

"Explain this," I snapped, "Why," I yelled, my words cracking, "why are you paying my boyfriend to be my fucking boyfriend?!"