Taking Liberties (Like a Boss Book 3) Read online

  “No. Harry and Gaby are having a party. They got married a month ago in Florence, and they wanted to celebrate with their friends back home.”

  She nods and finishes off her beer.

  “Another?” I ask.

  She gestures to the bartender. “Can I have a Jim Beam, please? And make it a double.”

  “Make that two,” I tell him. I fish out my credit card, but she’s already passing over her own. I don’t argue with her, even though I probably make five or ten times what she earns in the mailroom. She looks like the kind of girl who’d be offended by me insisting on paying for her.

  We have a swallow of our whiskey, and it enters my bloodstream immediately, racing around my body and sending heat shooting up my spine.

  I don’t understand why this girl fascinates me, but she does. There’s an energy about her—I feel excited just being around her. She’s dangerous, feral. I realize with some surprise that I’ve never been with a girl like this. Even through school and university, I dated nice girls, or ones who looked nice on the outside, anyway—they’d often had more experience than initial impressions suggested, and not all of them were nice. In fact, a good proportion of them—including my vitriolic ex—were less than beautiful on the inside, so I suppose I shouldn’t judge a book by its black-haired, scarlet-lipped cover. Perhaps Roxie doesn’t have one-night stands. She could even be a virgin, for all I know.

  I watch her run her tongue around the lip of her whiskey glass, collecting the drops. She catches me watching her and smirks. Yeah, probably not a virgin.

  Not that I’m expecting anything tonight. She looks like the kind of young woman who’s able to handle herself, and I doubt I’ll be able to talk her into anything she doesn’t want to do in the first place.

  “Roxie!”

  She glances across at the rhythm guitarist and singer. He gestures to the door, and she shakes her head. He glances at me, then back at her, and nods slowly. He holds up her guitar, and she nods, watching him as he makes his way out of the bar with it.

  “Your boyfriend?” I ask, not wanting to turn around and find his fist in my face.

  “My brother,” she says with a grin. “It’s his band. Their lead guitarist left a few weeks ago, so I’ve been filling in.” Finishing off her whiskey, Roxie slides the glass across the bar, then turns to face me. She meets my eyes and considers me thoughtfully. “So. What now?”

  I knock back the last of my drink and slide my glass next to hers. I haven’t done this for a while, and I feel out of practice. “I’m hesitant to suggest anything in case you carry out some Jiu Jitsu on me.”

  She laughs. Her eyes are wild, excited. “My place is only a block away.” She shrugs, trying not to look too eager. “If you want. Whatever.”

  She’s eight years younger than me, but that’s old enough, and I want this girl more than anything I’ve wanted for a long time. Fuck it. We’re both consenting adults, and I’m not breaking any laws. Her strange blend of sassy confidence and vulnerability intrigue me.

  “Come on,” I say, and, taking her hand, I lead her out of the bar.

  Chapter Four

  Roxie

  Because it’s summer, I didn’t think I’d need a jacket, but the night air is on the cool side, running icy fingers up my arms, and I shiver.

  “Here.” Caleb slips off his jacket and puts it around my shoulders.

  I stare at him. “Seriously?”

  He gives me a puzzled look. “What?”

  I just shake my head, and we start walking. I pull the edges of the jacket close around me. No man has ever offered me his coat before. I feel like Queen Elizabeth the First from merry olde England. Would he lay it over a puddle for me?

  He slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunches his shoulders.

  “It’s not far,” I promise. He just smiles, which sends tingles all through me. Jeez, this man is sexy. He’s classy and a gentleman, and yet I have a feeling he’s going to be hot as sin in the sack.

  We walk fast, and we don’t talk again. It seems stupid to make small talk, although he was easy to chat away to in the pub. I can’t believe he also plays the guitar. I wonder whether he owns any nice ones? I’d like to ask him, but I feel oddly tongue-tied, something I haven’t felt since high school. He’s quite a bit older than me, and for the first time I feel a flicker of nervousness at the notion of asking him back to my place. He probably thinks I do this all the time, but I don’t make a habit of it. I mean, I’m no simpering virgin or anything, but I don’t ask just any old guy back—I’m fairly choosy.

  I tell myself not to worry. Technically, he’s my boss, and Colette told me he’s one of the good guys, so I don’t think I have anything to stress about.

  Unless you count the idea of getting down and dirty. My heart doubles its pace at the thought of having sex with him, and I feel the last remnants of caution drift away in the wind. I’ve probably had a bit too much to drink—maybe I’d be a bit more cautious if I was stone-cold sober—but right now I don’t care. I’m feeling hot and horny, and Caleb seems like the perfect choice to scratch my itch.

  We reach my apartment block, and I open the door with my key and let him in. He closes the door behind. Where he’s lifted his hand, his tee stretches across his biceps—wow, talk about muscles a girl can hang onto. Moistening my lips, I lead him up the first flight of stairs to my door, and we go inside.

  I hadn’t expected to pull tonight, but luckily, I’m fairly tidy, and the apartment is neat enough. Suddenly, though, I see it through his eyes; it’s small because I can’t afford much and don’t want to waste money, so it’s just a living room with a miniscule kitchen, and a tiny bedroom out the back. I bet my apartment would fit into his ten times over.

  “Nice place,” he says, though, and I smile at him as I slip off his jacket, liking how polite he is, the same way I liked how he didn’t comment on my guitar. He has style—I’m not used to that. I could get to like it.

  “Whiskey?” I ask, and when he nods I go into the kitchen and take out a bottle. “It’s only the cheap stuff,” I say, conscious that he probably has one-hundred-year-old malts aged in oak barrels made only from trees planted in leap years.

  “I’m used to cheap whiskey,” he advises with a wry smile. “I wasn’t always a director of my own firm. Seb, Harry, and I lived not far from here when we left university, and we learned to live on a budget.”

  “I bet your idea of a budget is a lot different to mine.” I pour two large shots of the whiskey. “When you left home, did Daddy warn you he’d only pay off the first two thousand of your credit card every month?” I bring the glasses over.

  He takes one, his smile fading a little. “You think I come from a privileged background.”

  “Don’t you? What was your last girlfriend’s name? Poppy? Autumn? Clara?”

  His lips twitch. “Felicity.”

  “See! There you go. I bet the women you’re used to are all vegetarians or vegans. I bet they do Pilates and play tennis and refuse to have their kids vaccinated.”

  He tips his head to the side, and his eyelids lower halfway, which gives him a hot, sultry look. “So why am I here?”

  “You fancy a bit of rough?”

  A frown flickers on his brow. “That’s what you think of me?”

  “Caleb, it’s okay. I get why you’re here. I bet when the other girls you sleep with are in bed they’re checking their reflection over your shoulder to make sure their hair is still in place. I bet when they come—if they do come, because that means being out of control, which women like that don’t like, so they probably fake it—they go, Oh!” I make a little French-like squeak.

  He studies my face, but doesn’t say anything.

  I move closer to him, my heart racing. “You’re here because you think I’m different. You think I’m going to be loud, and dirty, and that I like it rough. You think I don’t care what my hair looks like, and that I’m going to scream your name and claw your back. You think you’ll
be able to do anything you want to me, and that I’ll lie back and let you, or give you a few ideas of my own.”

  I stand in front of him, take another mouthful of whiskey, and then lick my lips. “And you know what? You’re right.”

  Caleb stares at me. For a second, I think I’ve frightened him off, and he’s going to grab his jacket and leg it out of the door.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he moves closer, slides a hand to cup my cheek, and bends his head to kiss me.

  His lips are cool and surprisingly soft. After my little speech, I half expected him to stick his tongue down my throat, throw me onto the bed, and just take his pleasure from me. But to my surprise, he kisses me gently, pressing his lips against mine as tenderly as if we’re teenagers on a first date.

  I resist the urge to turn up the dial, close my eyes, and give myself over to the kiss. He smells amazing, expensive, the way I’d imagine James Bond smells. Mmm, I could eat this guy on a waffle for breakfast. He’s like warm caramel, all sweet, salty goodness, rich and smooth, and oh-so-bad for you, but you don’t give a damn because he tastes so good.

  We open our mouths at the same time, and I welcome the slide of his tongue against mine. I lift a hand and place it on his upper arm—oh yeah, those biceps are as hard as I thought, firm enough to dig your teeth into.

  I bend briefly to place my glass on the table and he does the same, and then I return to him and kiss him while I slip my hands beneath his sweater. Yowza, he has a six pack, every muscle defined like on an old Hollywood version of a Roman breastplate. I skate my hands across his ribs up to his flat nipples, and circle them with my fingers. He shudders and exhales against my lips.

  He wants me, I don’t know why, but clearly, he’s as turned on as I am, as ready for me as I am for him. If he’s half as good as I’m hoping, I’m in for a terrific evening. I’m going to fuck this guy senseless, give him thirty minutes, then fuck him again. And possibly again, if we can manage it before he has to go.

  Opportunities like these don’t come around very often, and I’m determined to make the most of this one.

  Chapter Five

  Caleb

  Roxie’s hands are cool on my skin, and the feel of her fingers exploring my ribs and muscles makes me shiver. When she tugs at the bottom of my tee, I take a handful at the back of my neck and pull it off. She blows out a breath and spends a moment admiring my torso. I’m happy to let her, because I’m hoping to do some admiring myself in a minute.

  She’s like a firecracker—a ton of sizzle packed into a tiny container, exploding into my world with a burst of colorful sparkles. She’s so… alive. And she makes me feel alive, too, which is nothing short of a miracle after the last few months.

  I want to rip off her clothes, throw her onto the sofa, and thrust her into next week, but I rest my hands on her hips and take a moment to question whether I’m doing the right thing. We’re supposed to have a policy at work of no banging the temps, and I know it’s not great business sense to get involved with someone at the office. But both Harry and Sebastian got to know their partners there, and I work so hard that the only women I get to meet are at functions, where they gather together and survey the room to see which eligible bachelor they can cast their net at next. Being with Felicity has scarred me for life. I don’t know that I ever want to go out with another woman like her. And that’s one reason why I tell myself to fuck caution, and lower my lips to Roxie’s scarlet ones again.

  She slides her hands up my chest and around my neck, lifting onto her tiptoes to press against me. Aaahhh, this girl tastes good. I thought she might smell of stale cigarette smoke and beer, but all I can smell is her fresh, flowery perfume, warmed through by her body as she performed.

  My hands are on her hips, but I slip them around her waist and up to her ribs as we kiss. She feels tiny—she’s a lot shorter than I am, and slender with it. I know I’ll be able to pick her up easily. She runs her hands over my biceps and across my shoulders, so I think she’s enjoying the difference between us too. I span her waist with my hands, tempted to touch her breasts, but I make myself wait.

  Moving back, she gives a short laugh. “Man, you work slow!”

  “A gentleman doesn’t rush things,” I tell her.

  “You might not have noticed, but I’m no lady.” Her eyes are feverish, and she’s breathing heavily. She takes the bottom of her vest in her hands and peels it off, then undoes the catch of her bra behind her back and pulls the straps down her arms to reveal a pair of gorgeous breasts.

  Moving out of my reach, keeping her eyes on mine, she grins and unbuttons her jeans, then peels them down her legs, standing on them and turning them inside out as she struggles to get them off. When she’s done, she kicks them away, then takes off her black panties.

  Now naked, she takes my hand and pulls me over to the sofa. She pushes me down onto it. And then she straddles me, sliding down my thighs until her mouth is inches from mine.

  “There,” she says, her breath whispering over my lips. “That’s better.”

  I laugh and cup her breasts, enjoying their softness, and brush my thumbs over her nipples. “Impatient little madam, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t see any point in wasting time.” She kisses me, and I lean back on the sofa and revel in the feel of this naked girl in my arms. I run my hands over her baby-soft skin while she slides her tongue against mine and teases my lips with her teeth.

  “Mmm.” She rubs her nose against mine. “I like how you look at me.”

  “With my tongue hanging out, you mean?”

  She laughs. “No. With… I don’t know… admiration, I guess.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You have a fantastic body.” I palm her breasts again, which are fuller than I would have expected for her frame.

  She shrugs. “I’m not used to it, that’s all. Most guys are all ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am.’” She kisses me again, threading her hands into my hair.

  I think I understand. I doubt that many of the men she meets have the time or inclination for foreplay. She’s young, and it’s possible she’s not even been in a serious relationship yet. If most of her encounters have been short and sweet, I wouldn’t imagine she’s had many lazy Sunday mornings in bed, the kind where you take hours exploring each other.

  That’s not what this is, either, but that doesn’t mean we have to set the timer. I kiss down her neck to her breasts, and with the tip of my tongue I draw a circle around the edge of her nipple several times before taking it in my mouth. The breath hisses through her teeth, and she clutches her hands in my hair, but I continue to take it slow, teasing both her nipples at my own pace.

  Roxie holds her breath each time I suck, and when I glance up, I see her eyes closed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I smile and reach around her for my glass of whiskey. I take the ice cube in my mouth, crunch it up, and then before she can guess what I’m going to do, I close my mouth over her nipple.

  She squeals, but I stay there and suck until it peaks in my mouth, feeling like a long, hard bead. When I finally lift my head, her eyes are dazed, and she gives me a helpless look. “Mmm, Caleb…”

  Heat floods through me—Jesus, this girl is so fucking hot. There’s a fraction of whiskey left in the glass. I tip it up and pour it across her collarbone, and it trails down over her breasts in gleaming amber streams.

  “Fuck,” she says, but I put the glass down and then lick up the drops, running my tongue over her skin, lapping up the liquid and teasing her in the process.

  She sighs and drops back her head, rocking her hips against mine. I’d like to take hours over this, but I’m only human, and I’m already rock hard and ready. I slide my hands up her thighs, then brush my thumb over her velvet skin and down into her folds. She’s wet, and I glide through her swollen skin, gather up some moisture, and smooth it over her clit. When I circle the pad of my thumb over the button, she moans against my lips and thrusts her tongue in my mouth.

  I slip an arm around her and
hold her tightly while I arouse her, because I know if I don’t, she’s going to be on me in seconds. She lifts her head, and I look deep into her eyes while I stroke her, still refusing to let her go. Her teeth tear at her bottom lip, but she doesn’t fight me—she succumbs to my touch, kissing me, dipping her tongue into my mouth, then moving back to watch me. Her eyes are full of emotion that she refuses to express—I can see her vulnerability there, her awe, even, that I’m taking time like this to make sure she’s ready.

  I’m hardly the greatest lover, but I like the way she looks at me as if I’m Casanova, as if I’m special because I’m taking five minutes to ensure she’s enjoying it, too.

  Eventually, though, she kisses me and murmurs, “Please, I want you inside me.”

  I’m not going to say no to that, so I watch her as she reaches over and grabs her purse, opens it up, and takes out a condom. I have some in my wallet, but I’m not going to complain at her thoughtfulness—I’m relieved to know she’s used to using protection.

  I unbutton my jeans and, because she’s obviously not going to get up and let me finish undressing, I slide the zipper and push down my boxers. She mumbles something that contains a few swear words at the sight of my erection, tears open the packet, and hands me the condom. I roll it on, and then she shifts on top of me.

  I hold her hips, and she stops moving and meets my gaze. As much as my body wants to plunge into her, I want to take this slowly. Can she read that in my eyes?

  Chapter Six

  Roxie

  Caleb has possibly the largest, brownest, most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy, and as I look into them, I can see all his thoughts and dreams passing behind them, like fish in a tank.

  His fingers are tight on my hips, and I can tell he wants me to go slow. Suddenly, I know he hasn’t done this for a while.

  Why the hell not? He’s so gorgeous, he could walk out of a bar or nightclub with a different girl on his arm every night.