Boss Unavowed: A Love On the Rocks Romance (The Boss Series Book 2), Page 2

  “I'm tired, Rogan,” she said, hoping he would get the message, but also hoping he wouldn't.

  Still, she shifted to lie on her stomach and faced away from him.

  “I know you're tired, baby,” he acknowledged in his smooth, deep voice, but his hands weren't through with her yet.

  He stroked the palm of one hand down the curves of her back, then softly back up. The next downward stroke offered a little more pressure to her sensitive muscles, and she couldn't contain the groan that escaped her lips at the feel of his hands.

  The groaning was all the validation he needed, and he shifted so that both hands were now massaging her, pressing into her and kneading her taut muscles with his strong, masculine hands.

  There was no protest left in her. His hands dipped lower, kneading the soft flesh of her butt cheeks, rubbing and massaging, teasing her as his hands moved up her spine, then back down again.

  As his fingers worked, her body began to hum with a hunger for more of him. She had resisted this for weeks now, afraid of a painful experience after giving birth, but then worried that childbirth would have left her too… stretched… to offer him any pleasure. So many insecurities and rationalizations had kept her at bay, not to mention the sheer exhaustion.

  She lay motionless, but the more his hands pressed over her, the more turned on she was getting, and the more tension she could feel rising inside her body. Why was she fighting this, again? It was getting harder and harder to remember.

  When his hands made their way down to her thighs, she could feel the wetness begin to pool between her legs, and the intensity of her longing only grew as she continued to lay flat and unmoving on her stomach, trying to deny the overpowering sensations.

  He dipped his hand between her legs, cupping her sex over her cotton pajama pants, and she realized a moan had escaped her lips of its own volition. Any ideas she’d had of declining were out the window at that point, and suddenly she was wide awake, her body at full attention.

  He continued massaging one of her butt cheeks with his left hand, and his right hand remained between her legs as he began massaging his fingers against her clit with the heel of his palm pressing directly onto her opening.

  “Are you sure you’re too tired, baby?” he crooned, knowing exactly the effect he had on her body, even as she lay unmoving beneath him.

  “Yes, I'm-” She gasped as his hand began a slow circular motion. “-So tired,” she squeaked.

  “Then don't mind me. I'm just going to enjoy this beautiful body for a little bit before I go to bed,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he said the words.

  He grazed his left hand over her, dipping it below the thin fabric of her pants and panties, and tracing his fingers down into the crack of her ass, he began circling her pussy, wetting his finger in her flowing juices. Then he pressed his fingers flat against her hole and vibrated them until she cried out.

  “Ah, yes!”

  He hadn't even entered her body yet and she was quaking with need. If she gave into him, she knew the nearness she would feel that she had been desperately craving from him.

  When he moved up her body, pressing his hardened length against her ass, his firm chest against her back, he pulled her hair aside to take her lips in a languid, seductive kiss, and there was no denying him any longer.

  Their tongues danced in a passionate rhythm and he began rubbing his length against her, making her ache for him to be inside her. She turned to indicate she wanted to roll over, so he moved from atop her and let her roll beneath him. He rested himself back between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist and pulled him in.

  “Rogan, I want to feel close to you,” she admitted, feeling so vulnerable in his penetrating gaze.

  He pressed his forehead to hers and cupped her face in both hands. “Then let me in,” he replied.

  She nodded, and then accepted his kiss as he pushed off her to caress both hands all the way down the sides of her body, tugging her pajama pants down in the process. As he did, she removed her tank top and freed her breasts with the cover of night to give him immediate access.

  When he inched his way back up her body, he nestled his hips into hers, and her legs locked around him once more. He claimed her lips as his fingers wove into her hair. He moved his hips, letting his tip press slightly in and then stilling as he let her get acclimated to the feel of him, little by little.

  Ready for more of him, she wriggled her hips to help work him in further, and he gently eased into her a little more. He repeated this process until he was all the way in, taking his time and making sure she felt comfortable.

  God, how she loved this man, who somehow always knew exactly what she needed, giving her an unending supply of pleasure while asking for little of his own in return. She wanted to please him and feel him lose himself inside her.

  She pushed her hips into him, letting him slide in and out of her, and she reveled in his sharp intake of breath. Just the sound alone sent pleasure spiraling through her.

  “More,” she begged, granting him the permission he needed, and he worked his cock inside her until she screamed out his name, until pleasure exploded through her whole body and her inner walls convulsed around him, sending him over the edge along with her.

  FOUR

  When Farren walked toward the lounge the following morning to get her first fix of coffee, she stopped just short of the door. The sound of hushed whispers talking on the other side of the wall may have piqued her interest, but it was the recognition of Edith's sharp voice that gave her pause. Something told her to give it a minute to see what she might hear.

  “Yeah, but they're not married, are they?” Edith asked in a hushed tone.

  Then another, more skeptical voice answered. “Well, no, but...”

  “Exactly! In my book, that makes him free game,” Edith said, her voice still low and secretive.

  The other voice, who Farren recognized as Cameron’s, the woman who had initially been hired instead of her for a tech support position, said, “Just be careful Edith. You don’t want to get on Mr. Rayner’s bad side.”

  Edith laughed at full volume. “Oh honey, that's so cute, you're concerned. But sugar, I got this. I know exactly what a man like him wants, and unlike that little girl he's been toying with, I've got just the skill set to give it to him.”

  Farren stood frozen in place. A mixture of warring emotions fired within her all at once. Her initial reaction was anger - how dare Edith to talk about Rogan like that, about her like that?

  Then there was fear. What if Edith was right? What if she was just a toy Rogan was playing with until something better came along? Things were so different now, and though he'd never said it, she had saddled him with a lot more than he had bargained for.

  What if it was too much, or worse, not enough?

  About that time, Rita's overly cheerful voice came echoing through the corridor. “Well, good morning, little mama! What are you doing out here?”

  Farren cringed, hoping she hadn't been caught eavesdropping on Edith and Cameron's conversation.

  “Oh, hey Rita, I was just on my way in to grab some coffee,” Farren said, turning the corner to walk through the lounge door.

  “At the rate we go through coffee around here, we're gonna need an industrial-sized upgrade to the coffee maker. I'll be sure to ask the boss about that later,” Rita teased, walking in behind Farren.

  Farren chuckled with a nervous edge. When she looked in Edith and Cameron's direction, she gave them a smile, hoping if she acted normal they wouldn't know she'd overheard them.

  “Morning, Cam. Edith,” she said, trying not to grit her teeth together on the second name as she poured herself a cup of Italian Roast.

  “Farren, don't you just look... lovely today!” Edith said with exaggerated friendliness.

  Really? No offhand comment about the bags under her eyes or how her split ends needed some exotic oil treatment? She really was trying to stab Farren in the back, was
n't she?

  “Thanks...”

  One of the employees, Marcus, poked his head in and scanned the room, zeroing in on Farren.

  “Miss Fields, hey, I could use some help in the security room. It looks like one of our clients has a hack attack, and Ron isn't here yet to get into the account. Do you have a minute?” he asked, grasping the edge of the door frame.

  “Sure, Marcus, lead the way. And please, call me Farren,” she said.

  She waved to Rita and Cameron on her way out, trying her best to give Edith a half-hearted smile, but the conversation she’d just overheard was already starting to burn a simmering hole inside her.

  She went up to the security floor to check out what was going on. It was still early, and none of the team had arrived yet. She made quick work of securing the client server and set it up for the team to track the source of the attack before heading back down to her office.

  When she got to her desk, she could hear a muffled conversation through the wall coming from Rogan's office. Edith hadn't wasted any time, and Farren found herself standing just outside the door that separated her office from his, trying to get a better listen.

  “They really want you there, Rogan. It'll give the company a sense of assurance to see you there personally. It makes them feel like they're important enough to us to offer only the best. And Rogan, you are the best,” Edith was heard saying.

  “It's not necessary to sell me on the reasons I should be there. I'm well aware,” Rogan answered in a self-assured tone.

  “Great! So I can plan on you being there, then?” she asked.

  A pause of silence came, and Farren held her breath without realizing. Would he agree to go? She silently begged him to say no and feared the worst if he said yes.

  He verbalized a frustrated sigh. “I'm afraid I have to. It would give me a chance to handle some other business while I'm there.”

  “Excellent! I'll have my assistant book the hotel, along with a meeting room. I trust we’ll take the company plane?”

  “That will be fine.”

  Farren could hear Edith's heels clicking across the floor, then stop.

  “Looking good today, by the way, Rogan. Blue is a good color on you,” she said, and then Farren could hear the door to his office open and Edith's footsteps trail off down the hall.

  Farren sunk her back against the door. He was going on a trip to New York with Edith Underwood, a woman who had her sights set on him and believed she had everything Farren didn't to satisfy him.

  What was worse, she knew what varied interests he’d had in women. She wouldn't soon forget the parade of beauties he used to bring around, even right there in the office.

  Then things had shifted. There had been an unspoken attraction between them for quite some time before things had heated up on a business trip to Italy last year. That was when she had unexpectedly gotten pregnant with Harley.

  Now, he'd be going on a business trip with Edith. He hadn't given her any reason to doubt his devotion to her, but she also felt the emotional distance that had wedged between them since Harley was born. Last night had been their first time being intimate since she’d given birth, and she hadn’t even been in the mood for that at first.

  She reached to pull the side door open, and he looked up, taking notice of her as she did.

  “Hey baby,” he greeted her, but he seemed distracted with his eyes quickly returning to the screens of his computer.

  “Hey,” she replied in a meek, timid voice.

  “Did you need something?” he asked, still focused on the screens.

  Her heart sank. It wasn't that long ago he'd have dropped everything to reach for her when she came in.

  “No, I just wanted to see if you knew what time you'd be home tonight. I was thinking of spending some time with Gramma when I go pick up Harley.”

  He nodded and spared a quick glance at her.

  “It'll probably be late, so go ahead. Tell her hello for me,” he said, then turned back to his work.

  “Okay,” she mumbled, pulling the door closed.

  She was at a loss with all the questions going through her mind, but they all boiled down to one: was she losing him?

  FIVE

  11 Years Earlier

  “We ride tonight, brothers,” Hugo’s gruff voice called to the men all standing in the large bay of the garage.

  The four of them, Craigan, Rogan, Dean, and Bull, each voiced their collective agreements in response to their leader, Hugo’s directive, standing among the grease, car and bike parts, and the heavy machinery of bikes they each leaned against.

  They’d been watching Tommy the Tank for months now, and they’d finally gotten the dirt on his sorry, low-life ass they’d been working hard to dig up and uncover. They’d suspected the shit he was playing in, but they had to get cold, hard proof before they rallied and took him down. Waiting for the proof they needed wasn’t ideal under these circumstances, not with what they were dealing with, but it was the only way.

  This made it all the more imminent, and now, it was time to do something about it.

  Craigan shrugged into his leather jacket, the BACA patch showing prominently on his shoulder nearest Rogan, and he tipped his head back to signal to his chosen brother that it was time to go. Rogan lifted a heavy boot up and over his mid-sized Harley-Davidson and mounted the bike, firing it up.

  “You men be careful out there tonight. This is no pussy son-of-a-bitch we’re after. Don’t underestimate your opponent. Stick together, and let’s get this piece of shit,” Hugo said through his graying, handle-bar mustache from over his shoulder, yelling above the roar of the hogs before toeing his bike into gear and pulling out of the bay.

  Bull and Dean took off next, following suit.

  A young Rogan looked to Craigan and bared his teeth with a devious grin. “Let’s do this,” he said, and the two men rode into formation.

  Tommy the Tank was a real piece of work. They’d suspected him of a great many things, but worst of all was the one thing BACA wouldn’t stand for. Bikers Against Child Abuse - sure, there was honor among thieves, so to speak. Even the hardest of criminals made no concessions for child abusers. It’s not like these men were saints themselves. They were some of the most feared men in Houston, the ones people knew not to fuck with, not without being made an example.

  This made it a no-brainer for Rogan and Craigan to step right in and join the crew. They were young compared to most of the other men in the club, only in their mid-twenties, but ruthless and experienced from the hard, unforgiving lives they’d each led so far, nonetheless. BACA gave them the focus they needed where they hadn’t had it before, not to mention a brotherhood, a belonging.

  Rogan had been on his own for several years at that point, and Craigan had been the only family he’d had. They weren’t even blood-related, just two rebel, kindred spirits that had crossed paths, in the right place at the right time. Craigan had only had his younger sister, Elaina, and his little brother, Dallas, to tend to before that himself.

  Rogan and Craigan both had done what they had to do to survive in the dog-eat-dog world they lived in. They were exactly what the other needed, whether they knew it or not. Both liked to tinker around, Craigan with cars and bikes, and Rogan with computers. Craigan had teased him at first until he realized what Rogan had been capable of and just what he could do.

  They pulled in line behind Hugo and the guys. Adrenaline pumped through their veins in anticipation of the night ahead of them. Rogan lived for that feeling, and Craigan wasn’t much different, though Craigan tended to temper his a hair more, knowing he had his brother and sister to take care of. It was important that he come home at the end of the day. Rogan hadn’t had the same purpose in life to live for like Craigan had, and his actions showed it.

  People feared them both, but especially Rogan. They had earned respect in that town, and they’d come by it the hard way.

  Rogan looked over to his brother as they cruised down the highway toward the ol
d, run-down side of town, where an old, ratty trailer park was tucked away in a secluded neighborhood. Craigan looked over to meet his glare and gave him a toothy grin. That was the look that said he felt alive, Rogan thought, feeling the same thing deep in his bones. He was alive.

  They slowed to a stop as they approached a jack-knifed semi-trailer that had traffic starting to back up down the congested freeway. It stalled them for only a moment before they maneuvered around the stopped cars to take an unexpected detour, exiting from the main road and riding the business road a few miles down before getting back on track.

  Nothing could stop them from coming for Tommy the Tank tonight. Nothing.

  SIX

  Farren pulled her Chevy spark into a parking space outside the apartment building she used to share with Gramma. It had been a tough decision to move out, leaving Gramma here on her own, when one of the main reasons she had moved Gramma in to begin with was to be around to take her to appointments and such.

  Gramma had assured her that she could still do all of that living elsewhere, since she was just a car ride away. Gramma also took care of Harley during the day while Farren went to work. It was the only way Farren felt comfortable leaving Harley in the hands of anyone but herself, since she trusted Gramma with her life, and that was exactly what Harley was now.

  Farren knocked before opening the door to Gramma's apartment and felt the weight of her day dissipate as her face lit up at the sight of her little angel, awake in a Pack ‘N Play in the middle of the small living room floor. For a moment, all of her cares disappeared, and all that mattered was holding this little bundle of warmth and wiggles.

  Gramma stood from her recliner where she had been working a word search puzzle and hugged Farren.

  “Hello, honey. How was your day?” Gramma asked, bringing Farren back to the real world.