The Carrero Effect - Falling for the Boss (Billionaire CEO)

I sit for what feels like an eternity, waiting with bated breath and extreme anxiety coursing through me. Finally, the door opens, and voices come into the apartment. There seems to be more than one and I can’t tell if any are Jake. I wait and listen. A male laugh that sounds like Daniel, possibly Arrick too and then I hear Jake, low and husky and my heart constricts with relief.

The bedroom door opens almost instantly, and he sticks his head around sheepishly, his brows furrowed as he locks eyes with me. Like a child about to meet the headmaster. There’s no evidence of any fighting on him at all, no messy face or mussed hair, no torn clothing. I look away from him, emotion rising in my throat, relief and upset. I want to cry suddenly now that he’s finally here and safe.

He walks toward me, I can smell the outside air from his clothes and the faint smells of nightclub and a lot of alcohol as he gets closer.

“You still mad at me, bambino?” he asks, he has my coat and bag in hand and throws them to the chair in the corner, sliding across the bed and gently pulling my legs out from under me so he can lay me flat. I ignore him, looking away still as my body starts to slide down with his maneuvering. “Don’t do that, miele.” He slides my hand out of my hair, it’s followed by a tug on my chin to make me stop chewing my lip. He’s being gentle and cautious, wariness in his voice. He pulls me so I’m flat out on the bed then slides over me, resting a knee between my legs, his weight on his arms so he’s above me and looking down.

I stay steady with my head turned to one side, fighting the urge to cry, fighting the urge to curl up into that body. I want to search his face and body for signs of injury, but the overwhelming emotion has me stone cold still, like old Emma would be. Emotions bubbling inside in chaos leaving a blank expression and icy demeanor.

“I see through this, you know.” He breathes, leaning in to touch his lips against my cheek, his nose traces gently across my skin igniting that familiar fluttering and crazy tingles. I close my eyes, so he doesn’t see any hint of response. “The silent treatment, huh?” He kisses my neck gently, trailing down to the line of my shirt, one of his hands sliding under it, skin on skin, across my abdomen and up to my breast, slowly and surely. I hold my breath, biting my inner lip to quell any noise that may come out involuntarily, I can’t just give into him and let him think his behavior is acceptable.

ear lobe, his hand still moving over my breast, his fingers stop over my hardening nipple as he smiles against my ear,

angry at myself for being so weak when it comes to him and angry at him for thinking all it takes is a slow

of my thighs instead. I bite my lip hard to kill the moan that threatens to erupt, his teasing is working but

can do this, I can fight Carrero’s

and I hope his mouth moves further south. Hating my own weakness to his advances but he stops, so suddenly, jumps up from the

sitting area. It’s like a slap in the face and my rage ignites fully, grabbing the nearest thing to me I throw it hard at the door with vengeance. The hard-back

and slam the door shut, locking it tight before sitting down on the fluffy bathmat and

angry at him, to punish

more drunk than I realize with an overwhelming need to hit something hard. The bathroom door handle moves a little, startling me then stops, then again as he tests that I really have locked it before it stills, his footsteps moving away. I wait and watch, unsure if I want to

most infuriating qualities. He never just lets things lie, always pushing to get me to open up. So why not tonight? Why is he

rage and unlatch the door, storming into the bedroom; surprised to see him standing, waiting for me with folded arms.