The Boss Vol. 3: a Hot Billionaire Romance by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott Page B

lone figure was jogging a few feet from the lacy tide. A long, powerful stride with a familiar determination. I wished I could find that kind of focus when working out. I had it with my art, but definitely not when it came to running.
    The man slowed as he neared my property.
    It was a private beach, dammit.
    Not that other runners hadn’t come through, and for the most part I never cared. Today, the feral need to lash out was far too close to the surface. Whether it was because I didn’t technically own the property or I was just feeling punchy because of the day, I didn’t really care.
    I just wanted him gone.
    “Move on.”
    I didn’t recognize my voice. Again, I needed to drink and eat. Even my voice was a growl.
    The man pushed back his hoodie and stared at the sky, his shoulders heaving with exertion.
    I knew that neck. He bent over at the waist and clutched his knees and stared right at me.
    My nipples tightened and my feverish body betrayed me.
    He couldn’t see me. He couldn’t know it was me in here, but it felt like his eyes were roaming over my entire body. Why? Why did he affect me like this?
    All the hate and betrayal aside, he’d fired me. Even though I was the best damn assistant he’d ever have in his godforsaken life. Okay, so I’d lied to him and was never meant to work for him. Still.
    “God, you’re certifiable, Grace.”
    What the hell was he doing here?
    It’s his house, you idiot.
    My fingertips went white against the pane.
    I really didn’t care that it was his house. It didn’t feel like his house. It still felt like mine. No amount of talking myself out of it last night mattered right now. Not when he was standing there and surveying the property with sweat-soaked skin.
    I didn’t want to move on.
    I wanted this house. I wanted to work here in the perfect light that I’d discovered when I was barely into my teens. When my obsession for glass had started after walking into Mrs. Stephens’ living space. The windows and arches of the main house were gorgeous, but the sheer multitude of window panes in her space had clicked something in me.
    Sunlight, pure and perfect, touched every corner of the room and I’d been hooked.
    When Mrs. Stephens had retired, I’d taken it over before all her bags had been packed. Back then, my work area had been an old drafting table scattered with markers and pencils until I’d transitioned to suncatchers and simple glasswork.
    By high school, it had become overrun with tools, glass, and metals. Now the smell of butane and singed wood was as familiar as the ocean outside.
    How on earth was I supposed to give this up?
    He stood on my beach—Blake Carson, with his hands on his hips, eyeing his latest acquisition. Didn’t he know the love and creation that had resided in this house was priceless?
    I moved to the door and almost flung it open to go out there and tell him, but common sense finally slapped me back. If he knew I was here, he’d surely have me arrested. After our last interaction, he’d definitely have me forcibly removed at the very least.
    “You’re fired.”
    I curled my hands into fists and slammed the side of my hand into the door. “Damn you, Mr. Carson.”
    Just his name on my tongue and lips sent my body haywire again. The game we’d been playing, the sirs and misters and misses that had filled our days. They’d been as close to sex talk as I’d ever experienced.
    Until he’d actually fucked me.
    My body throbbed in memory.
    His rough voice behind me as he’d driven himself into me on that rooftop. “Squeeze that tight pussy. Squeeze me, goddammit. Harder.”
    Such a marked difference from the man in the office. So repressed and chilly, but the moment he got his hands on me, everything changed. And I’d found myself longing for those moments where he showed me that other side of him.
    Who was the real Blake? Was he an amalgamation of them both? Or was he just a liar all around?
    I backed up until my worktable brushed my