Page 15 of Unmoored: How to Fail at Hating the Boss

“Did you say you were going to be on the boat with me tomorrow?”

I’m curious about this change of subject.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust anyone else out there with you.”

She lets a teasing smile slip in. “But can you trust me around you? That's the question.”

“As long as you obey all safety protocols, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Or as long as you don’t distract me from judging the race, right?”

I can’t take this teasing anymore. “We could just go fuck now, and get it out of the way.”

Quincy’s eyes widen in shock, and a pink hue floods her cheeks. I wait what feels like an eternity for her to respond.

“Wh-what if it goes badly? Then you won’t be able to look at me tomorrow.”

“Trust me. It’s not going to go badly.”

“Cocky much.”

“It’s not about me being cocky. I just never let a woman walk away from me without having an absolute bone-cracking orgasm.”

She blinks rapidly. Her lips part as she blows out a sharp breath.

I don’t think it’s possible to shock her any further. Am I pushing too hard? She kissed me, and for some reason is already regretting it. I’ll be damned if she feels embarrassed about it. The least I can do is act like an arrogant asshole and embarrass myself more.

Unless…unless she’s as into this as I am.

Seven

Quincy

Look at him.

Reef has every right to be an arrogant son of a bitch. There’s no way he’s not good at everything he lays his hands to. And if he fumbles that badly, well hell, I’ll just climb on top and take what I need. And have a damn good view while I do it.

Finally, after a long moment, I rasp, “Let’s go.”

Reef releases his hold on me and immediately darts to the passenger side of his car.

“My car…” I stammer, nodding toward my Volkswagen.

He pauses, the heat in his dark eyes making my pulse stutter. “I can’t fit in that thing,” he says.

Certainly not with that third leg that was just pressing up against me, I think silently.

I could have suggested he follow me in his car. But there’s a kind of desperation that makes discussing logistics very annoying, and the irrational things—like leaving my car at the supermarket—seem like the only logical choice. Whatever ittakes to get us out of here faster, together, makes the most sense in the moment.

My breath catches in my throat as Reef reaches for my hand as he starts the car. Yowza. Mamma mia. Okay, girl. Get all the corny words out of your head now before you say something embarrassing. “Where do you live?” His rough hand squeezes mine as he asks.

“Take a left on Main and then right on…on Buzzard Mountain Road.” My mouth goes so dry it’s making it hard to get words out.

He mutters something about it being a twenty-minute drive.