I take her face in my hands and kiss her perfect mouth, then I laugh as she grabs the front of my shirt and greedily pulls me on top of her.
“Is it your turn now?” I ask, laying a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.
She nods as she flashes me a cheeky grin.
I trace my finger along her bottom lip and smile. “Okay, but can you do one thing for me?”
“Anything!” she replies excitedly.
I gaze into her eyes for a moment before I speak. “Can you stop taking those ruddy pills?”
Her eyes widen at my blunt delivery. “My birth control? Are you saying you want to put a bun in my oven?”
I nod without hesitation. “Four or five buns, if I’m being perfectly honest.”
“Oh, well, when you put it that way,” she says, tapping her chin as if she’s thinking about my proposal, “of course.”
“Really?”
She nods enthusiastically. “My oven is your oven. I’ll stop taking the ruddy pills tomorrow.”
I laugh as I think I finally understand what it feels like when someone says they feel positively giddy. “Drop those knickers, love. You’re in for the rogering of your life.”
She giggles as she begins to undress. I watch her intently, helping her when she needs it, giving her space when she doesn’t. As her exquisite body lies before me, I take time to compliment her gorgeousness as I devour and pleasure every inch of her.
Like a fine wine or a perfectly cooked steak, a woman’s beauty must be savored. And all women are beautiful in their own way; even when they rip your heart out, there’s beauty in the lessons they offer. So, take your time. Appreciate the subtle flavors. And never let your twin have a single bite.
The End.
Want more boss romance? Turn the page to learn more about the Beastly Bosses series.
Coming soon!
RAISE YOUR GLASS
A Fake Fiancé Office Romance coming spring 2021!
How to plan your boss’s wedding:
1. Pretend to be engaged to your irresistible beast of a boss.
2. Let the media—and your parents!—believe the lie.
3. Let your fake wedding plans snowball out of control.
4. Move in with your fake groom to maintain appearances.
5. Fall in love with your fake groom?
More info at cassialeo.com/beastly
Coming soon!
LIKE HONEY
A Slow-Burn Stand-Alone Romance coming late summer 2021!
I meet sexy, enigmatic Jacob Maxwell the day my sister dies. He turns the worst day of my life into the best one-night stand of my life.
And through the years, that one night becomes years. Our chance encounters turn into amazing sex. And our potent chemistry sparks many failed attempts at monogamy, which are always sabotaged by Jake’s need to push me away.
Despite the intensity of our attraction, I’ve never been able to make him stay. The mystery of his reluctance to get close to me hangs between us like a giant question mark, the answer just out of my reach.
But neither of us can let go. Until, after our most recent and dramatic breakup, Jake leaves Seattle without a word.
No goodbye.
No forwarding address.
No more question mark.
I have my answer now.
Or so I think.
I soon find our story doesn’t end there. Our mystery has yet to unfurl.
Because the love we share is slow…like honey.
Preorder Like Honey now!
PREVIEW OF BREAK
CHARLEY
Then
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I would say a picture is worth a lifetime of words, since a single photograph can change your entire life.
When I was fourteen, a chubby girl in my freshman Spanish class attempted suicide after her former boyfriend posted a naked photo of her on MySpace. It was the scandal of the school year. I publicly expressed my disappointment with the way my fellow classmates were body-shaming her. Privately, though, I judged that girl. I couldn’t help but wonder… Who would be foolish enough to trust a teenage boy with nudes?
Just ten more minutes. Don’t pass out yet. Just hold on for ten more minutes.
I repeat the words over and over in my mind, like a mantra. Just ten more minutes and I can go home, drink a gallon of NyQuil, and sleep away this dreadful flu.
The art gallery just off the Sonoma State campus is small, but not quaint. Situated in the middle of 4th Street in Santa Rosa, among an eclectic mix of upscale and fair trade shops, the gallery has a wall of windows facing south. This wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t eighty-two degrees outside and the gallery’s air conditioning wasn’t working.
I loosen my black scarf and swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth as the urge to vomit begins to overtake me again. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths as I attempt to quell the sensation.
“I’m sorry. I just need a minute,” I say to my professor as we move onto the next photograph in the exhibit.
If I knew, when I chose to be an art major, that I’d have to do my final exam — a solo show using selected pieces from my photography portfolio to tell a story — in an overheated art gallery, while secretly popping Tylenol every time my professor turns his back on me, I might have seriously reconsidered my dream of being the next Annie Leibovitz. Or I might have chosen a major where I could take my final exam in an air-conditioned lecture hall. At the very least, I’d rethink my brilliant idea to wear a scarf today.
My attempt to look like an artsy-fartsy ballerina — in my lucky black scarf, baby-pink bateau-neck top, black skinny jeans, and pink ballerina flats — and my refusal to request a postponement of the solo show the moment I came down with the flu, will be my downfall. No matter how hot it gets in this gallery, I can’t take off my lucky scarf. Therefore, I predict, if I don’t get high marks on this final, I’m going to
