Boss On A Leash: A Single Dad Billionaire Romance by Kara Hart (good books to read for beginners txt) 📗

The limousine pulls up to a tall building downtown. Sandra gets out without a word. As I pop open a new bottle of champagne, I see Marc’s warm smile behind the tinted glass. He tries to say hello to his team leader, but she darts right through him.

Ducking inside the limo, he stops like he just hit a wall. “Holy shit,” he says. “You look breathtaking.”

I smile, but I feel a little off.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

He’s wearing a really nice European suit, probably something hand-stitched by someone local. Not only did he get a new haircut, but he’s wearing a new fragrance of cologne. It’s even better than the last one.

When I look back at Sandra entering the building, it’s hard not to roll my eyes. “Your team leader is a real class act,” I say.

I hate to start things off this way. Hours ago, I was in a good mood, but she really put a damper on my expectations.

He gets into the limousine, face overcome with annoyance. “Fucking Sandra,” he whispers, glancing at the street, flinching like he might run back out and grab her.

“She’s just so controlling,” I say.

The driver closes the door and walks to the other side.

“What happened?” Marc asks.

Recalling throwing a rack of dresses to the side of the store, I cringe. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful for everything you’ve done,” I say.

Marc squints. “Come on, you know I don’t care about that shit. Take whatever you want. Leave me high and dry. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“You say that, but...”

His mouth hangs open. “But what?”

Time to rip off the small bandaid. “But when we got to Saks, Sandra already had a dress picked out for me by the company. I sort’ve figured you were behind the move.”

He turns sour as this all starts to set in. It looks like an honest reaction. “Dammit,” he says, leaning against the seat, stiff. “I told her to send you a driver because I didn’t want us to be late to the function. I didn’t think she’d tag along.”

“Late for the what?” I ask.

“For our reservation,” he says. “But I never once told her to pick out a dress for you.”

“She was very concerned about the shareholders,” I add. “I guess she wanted a dress that would work for an office party. I was thinking more about tonight.”

“Okay, now I’m mad,” he says. “If you needed a specific dress, I would’ve given you my card and told you.”

“There’s one more thing,” I add. “I might’ve bought it with my own money.”

He pulls his arm away from mine and grabs his cell, furiously dialing a number. “We’re not going to the party.”

“Marc,” I say. “It’s fine. I want to go. “

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says.

He says it like he never wanted to go in the first place.

However, before he makes a scene and destroys tomorrow’s party, I lean forward and hit the end button. At first, he’s a little confused, but when his eyes meet mine, he puts it in his pocket.

And before he can speak, I thrust my lips upon him. It’s a long moment of breathless anticipation, him finally forming his hands around my waist, and me staring into his eyes. I push my body up to meet his in the kiss, savoring his perfect mouth, relishing the feel of his firm, powerful tongue, his lips molding to my own. He pulls away slightly and cups the back of my head with one hand.

He brings his hand around my back, sliding over my ass. It feels so good to be touched and held, I’m not sure why I ever denied him. “My staffers need to be disciplined, Ali,” he says.

I tap his nose with mine. “Maybe I’d rather the discipline come my way.”

With those words, he scoops me up, pushing me higher into his lap. We’re kissing and breathing so fast and hard, I wonder if he has plans to skip out on dinner. “Ali. You didn’t tell me you were such a dirty girl.”

His fingers move up and down the zipper of my dress, teasing me. “Yeah? Who did you think I was?”

He lowers the zipper an inch. “A sweet girl.”

I close my eyes and taste his lips. Then his tongue. I breathe him in and feel a warmth swelling between my legs, a pleasure that seeks to be released.

I shake my head. “I’m as bad as they come.”

One more inch of zipper comes down. He’s enjoying this. I am too.

“I want to get to know you, Ali,” he says. “All of you.”

When the limousine stops, and I see a massive line leading to the other side of the parking lot, it’s a cue we should get to the reservation instead of fucking like bunnies in the limousine.

I’m both pleased and sad we have special plans tonight, all at once.

Tapping his chest with my palm, I lean back and take a deep breath. “Whatever you have planned tonight, I’m sure will be incredible,” I say.

With eyes half-closed, he stares longingly. “Yeah. Right.”

I’m laughing a little at our situation, but when my heels hit the pavement, and Marc runs to help me stand, it’s clear this isn’t the old run of the mill date night. We’re at Arpège, a high class french restaurant that’s been the talk of the town for years. It’s one of those places you see on the travel channel, but I never thought I’d actually get a reservation.

Marc zips me back up a couple of inches before taking my hand. “You know of this place?” he asks.

I both shake and nod my head at once. “Arpège,” I whisper.

He looks pretty damn pleased with himself. “That’s right.”

I point to the endless line that loops around the side of the building, ending in a zig-zag through the parking lot. “Do we get to skip the line?”

Without another word, he leads me to the entrance of the restaurant.