A Deal with the Bossy Devil (Bad Billionaire Bosses, #1)

by Kyra Parsi

“Sorry,” he eventually said, amusement tilting his deep voice. “I didn’t hear him come out over the deafening sound of all the chemistry we don’t have.”

“You’re so fucking pretty it’s annoying,” he chided, his voice dropping to a low, molten gravel. “I hate how much I love looking at you. I hate it, Sanchez. And I can’t tell what I’m more angry about anymore, all the bullshit you put me through, or the fact that your lips are so fucking plump and pink.”

“Look at how pretty you are when you blush,” he murmured approvingly. “I never stood a fucking chance. It really is too bad that we don’t have any… chemistry.”

Adrien brushed the hair away from my ear and neck. My breath did not hitch when his fingers brushed against my skin. I did not shiver.

“You can touch me if you want,” he murmured softly. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on. Until you tell me to.”

“Make. Me.” Time stood still for exactly one heartbeat. And then his hands were on me, and the world went up in flames.

“You are aggravatingly, inconveniently… maddeningly beautiful, Ria.”

And just when it felt like I was going to burst from desperation, he sunk down to his knees in front of the bed, pulled my hips toward his face, and ruined my fucking life.

Because holy fuck. There was good sex, and then there was that.

“I can't think clearly anymore,” he said. “Every single thought that runs through my head seems to loop back to you. I can't get it to fucking stop, Ria. And the worst part is, I don't want to. Is that enough?”

“I want you. And the more I deny it, the worse it gets. I want to spoil you fucking rotten, Ria. I've become obsessed with the idea. I want to buy you pretty things, fuck you, praise you, play with you. I want to take you out on dates, I want to tell people you're mine for real. And you know what's fucked up? I've started to fucking fantasize about cuddling you. Literally just holding you in my arms all night. No fighting, no bickering. Is that enough for you, Sanchez? Or do you still need more of me?” I couldn't breathe. “More.”