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

I lay awake in the night with his body coiled around me possessively, his face buried in the back of my hair breathing soundly. My arm free of the restraint and only the sheets of the bed keeping me captive as he’s still not got under the comforter with me. I must have dosed off at some point and he’d taken it off, but I can only remember turning and tossing until he switched off that damn movie.

His arms are wrapped around my upper body and fingers entwined with mine, I sigh and relax into his hold, needing this to balm over the events of yesterday. I’m too weak for this game, already that ache of insecurity threatening to engulf me at the lack of his body joined with mine. He’s right. I don’t just need the sex though; I need the small things. The gestures and touches, the attentiveness and kindness too. All the things he deprives me of when he wants to win a stupid game. This helps though, that even in sleep he needs to cling to me and revives my will a tiny little bit, giving me a little inner strength.

That stupid stubborn part of me, that inner teen Emma, who can’t relinquish control, won’t give into this challenge and let him win. Jake’s too good at these games, he always wins, it’s his mission in life to always come out on top. It’s why he’s a ferocious CEO and more than a match for his father, he just can’t help it, it’s in his nature to dominate at everything. Even though he’s a laid-back and easy-going kind of man, there’s an inner alpha male dominance that shines through and shows face whenever pressed. I shiver as the thought comes over me that maybe in this, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

If neither of us breaks, then what? Jake won’t back down, it’s not in his capabilities to do it. Will I?

I’m suddenly saddened by the fact that this game has turned into something more, a battle of the wills and feelings are starting to get bruised. My feelings are starting to get crushed. The knowledge that he doesn’t need any emotional security to get through it, because emotionally he’s stable while I’m flailing. Always that internal fear in me that this is only temporary for him. That he will see what I really am and get bored or just hurt me, the way everyone else did. That is his upper hand, not the sex alone. He is emotionally capable of playing this game because to him it is just that, harmless and thrilling. He has that inner confidence and self-assurance, he's stable in my feelings for him and feels secure in our relationship. I don’t.

He mumbles in his sleep and it makes me smile despite the turmoil of emotions brewing inside of me. His low sexy voice, husky as always, seems even more so, and I recognize my name among the garble of words he whispers into my hair. He shifts lazily, his arm letting go of my fingers and coming across my upper chest, pulling me closer to him. His face and mouth coming down to bury into my neck and warm me with his return to steady breathing. He mutters ‘love you, bambino’ almost silently under his breath and I melt.

I let my fingers trail his muscular arm, the light feathering of hair across that perfect olive skin, surprisingly light considering his dark hair and Italian coloring, but then he is overall not a particularly hairy man and the amount of time he spends in the sun probably bleaches away most of the darkness. I trace my fingers over the symbols tattooed along his arm almost reaching his wrist. A long straight row of black ink, possibly Arabic, maybe Buddhist and wonder at what they mean in the early dusk light. I have never asked him about his tattoos or the meaning of each, or why such a weakness for symbols and tribal patterns.

I close my eyes to try to return to sleep but find it near impossible, that sudden urge to cry envelopes me again and for no reason at all it springs on me from nowhere. Maybe it’s the calm gentle way I’m being held and being able to steal genuine moments of affection with no games, maybe it’s how lonely he made me feel yesterday by his distance and commitment to winning. Before I know it, I’m breaking my heart, face wet with tears and trying to be silent; trying not to move despite my racking sobs. My heart breaking without any good reason to. I curl up into the fetal position on my side to try to quiet it, try to hide it.

“Baby?” His voice comes at me through my pain, his arms tightening slightly. “Emma, baby, what is it?” His body moves so he’s leaning over me, trying to see my face but I only bury the evidence of my sadness into my palms and try to hide from him.

out amid painful tears, gut-wrenching and pain so sharp inside of me I can barely

isn’t nothing … Hey …” He pulls me toward him so I’m on my back in the crook of his arms and tries to tug my hands away.

different, huskiness from sleep and gentle concern mixed to make

meet his eyes and wipe my face, only to let fresh tears roll from my eyes. “I’m calling an end to this. Seriously this time.” He sighs and pulls me against him hard. “Nothing is worth this.” He kisses me then, not forceful, or passionate but needily, his mouth taking mine and pushing all the emotion he can muster into kissing me intensely. I kiss him back hungrily, needing him more than air right now. It’s as though he’s trying to push away my

stays nose to nose, his fingers tracing my face and finally I sniff back the newest tears. Gulping down an onslaught of more.

mine. “It kills me to

Jake feels a million miles away from me, my security shaky

left you.” He kisses me harder this time, sliding over me to cover my body with his, impatiently he yanks the sheets from between us, so he can mold himself to me. I’m still in the black lingerie and he’s in sweatpants. His hands come to my wrists pulling them to the sides of my head as he pushes himself up, still connected to my mouth but shifting so his body and mine become wrapped up sexily, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips. His mouth is hungry for me and

me. I’ve experienced gentleness from him many times, but this is beyond anything I knew him capable of. His mouth soft and fluttering on my

his own release and covering

neck and hand buried in my

into him, nuzzling closer at his

stand seeing you cry.” He moves to my temple, kissing me firmly, our bodies still entwined. “Makes me feel like someone rammed a poker straight into my chest.” His confession sends a bittersweet

while he

knew the second I saw you crying, baby, that I was never ahead, winning should never come at that cost.” He presses his forehead to me and frowns. “I guess you found my Achilles