Page 401 of Manhattan Bossholes

“And…you’re giving it to me?” she asked, understanding dawning.

I nodded, the movement jerky. I was torn between wishing she’d put a shirt on and praying she wouldn’t. “I’ll give you anything you want, Olivia.”

“Well,” Olivia said, her voice husky. “Suddenly I’m not feeling so tired.” She crawled to the edge of the bed, hooked her fingers in my waistband, and tugged me close enough so she could free my aching cock. She leaned in, her eyes never leaving mine, and placed a kiss on the tip.

“God, Oliva,” I said, my hands in her hair. She smiled up at me with wicked promise.

“Yes?” she purred, but gave me no time to say anything. She rolled her lips down my hard length, the warmth of her mouth enough to make me to lose my sanity. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the feeling of her lips, tongue, and fingers on my flesh.

It was heaven.

But it wasn’t enough.

I tightened my fingers around her hair and drew her back, my length slipping from between her lips with a wet sound. “You come here,” I demanded, throwing her on top of the mattress.

“I’m right here,” she whispered.

“Yes,” I breathed out, already climbing on top of her, “yes, you are.”

I lost all track of time for hours. I only looked up and realized it was midnight when Olivia nudged me out of a pleasant doze as she lay, cozy and sated, nestled in my arms. “Your phone’s buzzing,” she said sleepily.

I reached for my discarded tracksuit bottoms and tugged them over so I could silence my phone. That’s when I saw the text message from Thomas.

O’Rourke gave up on selling the second property. Too much red tape. He’s moving on to another option. Not the mansion yet, but if we can find a way to delay this sale too, we’ll have him.

I sat bolt upright in bed, a thrill of adrenaline shooting through me. This was it. We almost had him. Go at him with everything you’ve got, I responded. Spare no expense.

“Who’s that?” Olivia asked. “Don’t they know how late it is?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her, when I remembered how our last conversation about the O’Rourkes had ended. “No one. Work stuff.”

“Being a billionaire cannot possibly be worth it,” Olivia joked, but the joke didn’t quite reach her eyes. She could tell I was keeping her distanced from this on purpose.

I tossed the phone aside and reached for her. “It wasn’t until I started sleeping with the staff.”

Olivia laughed as I covered her body with mine and proceeded to distract us both.

I woke up with a pounding in my head, then I realized the pounding was on the door.

“Miss Olivia?” Catie called through the door. “I can’t find Uncle Declan.”

Olivia glanced at the clock and swore. “We overslept,” she hissed. “Quick, get behind the bed.”

“I’m not going to hide like a teenager⁠—”

“Yes you are, Declan Byrne. I swear to God…” Olivia shoved me off the side of the bed, and I hit the ground with a thump.

“Your door is locked,” Catie informed Olivia, like it might have been an oversight.

“One second, sweetheart,” Olivia said, hastily pulling clothes on and motioning me to scoot out of sight.

I grumbled but acquiesced, sliding under her bed.

At least there were no dust bunnies. I’d have to give my cleaning crew a raise.

I heard the door open and saw Catie’s stocking feet burst into the room.

“Let’s go get you breakfast, hon,” Olivia said, trying to usher Catie back out of the room.