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

by Kyra Parsi

and all I could think about was how dark and ominously green his eyes were. They made me think of the rainforest at night. Same color and petrifying vibe.

“Can you tell me what you want now?” He considered me briefly, almost like he was savoring the moment. Then he said, “Beg.”

“Keys to a two-bedroom apartment in my building, where you’ll be living for the next four weeks. Any other concerns?”

Amigooooo admite que lo tennias todo planeadoooooo

“But you are also aggravatingly, inconveniently… maddeningly beautiful, Ariana.”

Adrien’s hand moved to cup my jaw, his thumb caressing my cheek. “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.”

His mouth twitched. “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.”

“The things I would do to those plush lips if you were attracted to me.” He was so, so close. Just a few more millimeters and… “You can’t even begin to imagine. I’d devour you, Sanchez.” My eyelids kept fluttering, wanting to close. I couldn’t remember how to breathe. “And then I’d properly punish you for everything you’ve done. The investment; the glitter; the insults. For constantly running that smart, bratty little mouth of yours.” His grip on my hair tightened a touch. “I’d punish you for being so fucking pretty. For making me want you like this, against my better judgment—against my will.”

Adrien’s mouth twitched like he wanted to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. “What’s wrong?” I teased bitterly. “My pretty, plush lips got your tongue? Or do you just wish they did?”

Adrien tossed the boxes onto the counter and reached for me. He was going to strangle me. Right here, right now. I could see it in his feral eyes. He was going to wrap his fingers around my neck and squeeze until⁠— My breath caught, my heart jumping into my throat as his one hand slipped to my lower back, the other into my hair. And just as my life began to flash before my eyes, his mouth crashed into mine. It took a moment for things to click. For my neck to realize it was still attached to the rest of my body. For my heart to realize it was supposed to continue beating.

“No more of whatever… fucked up game this is. I can’t… you’re so deep in my head that I can’t… I can’t fucking think anymore, Sanchez. I can’t sleep… I spent all night…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

“I like looking at you. So much so that I actually hate it. You’re very pretty. It’s beyond outrageous.” Swoosh.

“You’re in my head, you’re under my skin, you’re fucking everywhere, Ria. I can’t think properly when you’re around, and I can’t trust that I’m not misreading the signs.”

“You only have to say it once,” he promised, his fingers squeezing my throat lightly. “Admit you want it, stop waging war, and I’ll fuck you until you’re nothing short of incoherent, Ria. I’ll bend you over my desk and eat you out for as many hours as I’ve spent torturing myself fantasizing about it, and then I’ll punish you for making me want to taste you so fucking bad.”

“When you’re good, I’ll want to reward you. I’ll buy you toys and play with you. I’ll bind your wrists and feed you my cock. I’ll praise you, lick you, and fuck you the way you need.” He bit my bottom lip, then licked it soothingly. “I’d spoil you absolutely rotten if you let me, Ria.”

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to suckle on my bottom lip. “How is it fair? How was I supposed to stand a chance?”

“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.

“You drive me fucking crazy. Everything about you makes me wild. Your personality, your sense of humor, your smart mouth. And you're so fucking pretty, baby. I'm so attracted to you, it… I don’t know how to handle it.

“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?”

You’re fucking perfect and worthy just the way you are, and I really need you to know that.

I couldn’t tell which one of us was more surprised to see the other, but the initial shock lasted for about two clumsy heartbeats, and then we were both moving, mouths grinning, hands reaching. “Knew it,” he breathed a second before my arms looped around his neck, my lips crushed against his, and I stopped being an idiot. Finally. Finally.

After a long, dense pause, he asked, “Do you still hate me?” What? He already knew I didn’t. He’d been telling me so since Victoria, even though I kept insisting—oh. I see. My fingers trailed across his kiss-swollen bottom lip as I shook my head. “No,” I said. His breath caught, his throat moving with a soft swallow. “Do you have feelings for me, Sanchez?” Th-thump th-thump th-thump. “Absolutely yes, Cloutier,” I whispered. A single dimple. “Do I give you butterflies?” “Yes.” Two dimples. And the man was full-on blushing now. Adorable. Infuriatingly adorable.

He grinned when he saw me, rising to his feet as I ran into the room and hurled myself into his open arms. “You crushed it,” he murmured into my hair. “Fucking crushed it.”