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

Chapter 59

“Shit.” I gasp as his arms lasso me, he shifts so my weight ends up beside him on the lounger, instead of on top of him, keeping me in his embrace and laying us both back. It’s comfy and warm from his body heat in the now cooler night air and I sink contently.

“Bit drunk there, Miss. Anderson?” he chuckles at me, sounding boyish and happy and I smile too. This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Just charming.

“Sof course not”

What?

Okay, so maybe, I’m a lot drunk.

He laughs into my hair, his mouth pressed to my temple as he slides his other hand across my neck and shoulder and pulls me against him. Cuddling me in easily.

“Glad to see you letting go.” He smiles, almost nose to nose with me. His warm breath on my face and heavy scent of alcohol; it gives me an overwhelming sense of closeness and my body tingles deliciously from head to toe.

“I think falling on top of your boss is more than letting go.” I giggle, relaxing to the sensation and surrendering to the sway around me, regaining the control of my vocabulary, even if it’s slurring still.

“I’m not your boss for the next two weeks.” He winks. That handsome face close enough to touch with my tongue.

“Okay, I shall rephrase … Falling on top of your temporary not boss, is overdoing it.” I chortle again, so light, and free and a little bit silly. My hair blows gently across my face, yet he strokes it back, lingering,

playing with its short new waves. I think he’s more than a little obsessed with the cut, and it makes me sigh adoringly. The sensation of having my hair played with is addictive when he’s the one doing it.

“Do you need me to put you to bed?” he asks, still focusing on twirling a strand, his face is really so close I can almost lick him without moving.

Stop it, Emma!

“Do I not need to put you to bed?” I slur again and bask in his laughter; he finds that highly amusing. I want to wrap myself up in that laugh, it’s so inviting and familiar.

“I’m sure I can handle way more alcohol than you, tiny.”

“I’m not so sure, I haven’t seen you walk yet.” I point at him with a drunk air jab. Being drunk can be pretty amazing at loosening me up and forgetting my Boss/PA boundaries.

“I’m sure after seeing you try that; it proves you’re worse than me.” He stays smirking down at me, finally letting my hair go. Shifting his body weight, causing the bed dip lightly. The chatter of the others nearby has droned down to a background hum and I’m barely even aware of them anymore. It feels like it’s just the two of us.

“I like your dimples when you smile.” I prod his face. Focusing on his features a little too closely, distracted by them and how he never ceases to look gorgeous, no matter how long I have known him.

“And there she is.” He grins at me with a twinkly in his eye.

“There who is?” I ask in confusion, a frown creasing my forehead.

“Drunk Emma … How are you doing? … I missed you, baby.” His dimples cutely indent with the huge smile he’s giving me, sheer joy in that look.

“You missed drunken Emma?” I ask blinking suspiciously, not jumping into the merry reunion vibe.

“I did.”

“Why? Do you like her more than me?” I pout with sad eyes, not even smiling when he laughs at me and shakes his head. A childish surly mood instantly brewing in my depths.

“You are drunken Emma …”

“No. I’m not … I’m just Emma … Drunken Emma is …” I’m confused and I’ve no idea what I’m saying, he’s laughing at me again and it’s infuriating my sulky side.

“Why are you laughing? I’m being serious!” I scowl at him and pull my hands down to cross over my chest to glare. He prods my nose playfully.

“Both Emmas are you, they just choose to come out at different times. You’re cute when you pout.” He prods me in the face lightly again, before pinching my nose, like I’m some sort of juvenile.

“Why do you like her more?” I slap his hand away. I’m being sulky, and I can tell by the humorous glint in his eyes he’s finding me entertaining. It does nothing to help my somber state of mind on this topic. If anything, it just adds to it and the fire of outrage in my belly.

“How can you not love this version of you?” He wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling me closer and plants a kiss on my cheek, just shy of the corner of my lips. Snuggling his head into the crook of my neck and maneuvering my body to mold into his so we almost become one.

“Pffft … I don’t love her then.” I try and wriggle free.

“Because I do?” he has a permanent smile on his face now, as alluring as it is, I’m still frowning.

“Yes!”

“That makes no sense.” He ignores my dash for freedom and holds on,

“Yes, it does … If you like her so much, she must be a leggy bimbo.” I huff and make another attempt at squirming before giving in and slumping instead.

“I already told you, I don’t actually like leggy bimbos, Emma.” He closes in on me, nose to nose. His smile vanishes, his eyes instantly serious and dark. His focus moves across my face and rests on my mouth for a long moment. I pause, breath held before he hits me with a slight frown, a chew of his bottom lip and he glances back at my eyes with a sigh, moving back again.

“I don’t believe you.” I almost gulp at the nervous reaction I’m having to whatever that was, and the way it sent my insides into twisted chaos. My heart rate elevated.

“Well, that’s your prerogative.” He softly smiles this time, his mouth moving dangerously close to me again, achingly close. I swear I get a vibe that he means it before there’s a noise on deck and we glance over to see Daniel stripping off Miracle’s clothes in a rather smutty fashion. Jake frowns and pulls me up quickly to his side by the lounger, breaking that moment of tension and bodily moving me.

“Time for bed … I know what Daniel’s like. Show-time equals go time!” his voice turns grim, tight, all humor gone as he hurries me.

“What’s he like? What do you mean, “Show-time”?” I honestly don’t know and as I’m being pulled up like a child, I can’t help but stare at the group.

“He likes kinky sex, he’s an exhibitionist, doesn’t matter if you’re male or female; he’ll try and pull you in, he has no qualms about fucking in front of an audience.” He hauls me to my feet as I inhale sharply, staring over at the man and his bimbo porn star, in wide eyed shock.

That’s so gross. I hope Leila has the sense to get out quick.

Richard and Leila get up knowingly and move to loungers, away from Daniel. Thank goodness.

“Will you join in?” I squeak in surprise, a sudden swift knock inside my stomach that hurts like hell. I don’t like the thought of Jake doing that, with them, with anyone.

“No, it’s not my thing, Emma.” Jake narrows his eyes at me, a deep frown on his forehead as relief washes over me and he pulls me by the hand, a small tug to break my focus on Daniel.

“You said you did it on your dad’s boat when you were younger … group … stuff.” I accuse shyly, thinking back to an old conversation a long while ago when he was drunk.

“Who do you think was at the root of that?” he raises an eyebrow toward Daniel and pulls me with him to the stairs leading to lower deck. I don’t argue, just follow.

“So, you liked it then?” I ask, casting my eyes back once more as Marissa gets up and begins a slow strip tease, her eyes following us. Jake ignores her, and I get a wave of happiness at this fact; he shrugs and slides his arm around me as he leads me down the stairs slowly and carefully, so I don’t fall to the next floor. Guiding me. On the second to bottom step, he pulls tight and lifts me off my feet to the floor.

“I was young, it’s just sex. I was pretty much partying and pissing my dad off at every turn.” I stumble on the carpeted floor and he rights me, holding me close. I notice him sway a little as we head through the door to the internal hall of the boat indicating he isn’t much more sober than I am. I’m glad he’s leaning against me though; I’m finding it so much harder to walk than I realized.

“You don’t do group sex anymore?” I hiccup. Hating myself for saying.

Why the hell am I so obsessed with this topic? I do not even want to know any of this.

He eyes me warily, a soft questioning smile on his lips, showing those neat white teeth, devastating dimples and I’m instantly distracted.

“I like your smile.” I say, alcohol very effectively removing my internal filter again.