Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“No, you just grab things and chuck them at me,” he replies. And although his tone is neutral, I can tell he’s livid beneath the surface. It’s evident in the way his blue gaze turns shades darker. “You enjoy pushing your luck, don’t you?”
I scoff at him as I turn away and move to his desk. I scan the items littering the surface, contemplating what I might enjoy throwing at him. “You just cost me heaps of money,” I accuse, leaning against the desk and crossing my ankles. He can’t help but look now that we’re in private, his gaze roaming up my legs appreciatively.
“I don’t appreciate you displaying the gifts I give you to other men.”
“I thought this was for work,” I say sassily.
He kicks up a humorless smirk as he crosses the distance between us. He’s in my space, looming over me with a hand on either side. I have the urgent desire to grab the stapler and smash it over his head. I don’t like how he fills my space and consumes me. But my core floods with an entirely different type of urgency and need.
Fuck my treacherous body.
Sometimes, I wonder if I do these things because I want to see his reaction.
Because I want him to want me.
And that’s toxic as fuck.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want in tips for that little stunt out there, but you only show your body and lingerie to me.”
He opens a small box on his desk, barely moving around me, and then sets a stack of freshly printed bills in my hands.
That heated liquid sensation churns in my stomach. I try to do everything I can to push his effect on me away. Is it because I haven’t seen him for two weeks that the magnetizing pull feels intensely epic tonight?
“Aww, you love me. Shall I call you sugar boss?” I taunt, fluttering my lashes.
“No.”
Tension ripples between us, and I can’t move, don’t want to move, because I’m scared of what I might do. There’s a good chance I’ll grab for him.
I hated it when he first started texting me. I ignored most of his messages, but now I find myself laughing at his responses and know that the relationship with Dutton is anything but a professional one.
“Okay. Now that I’ve made my tips, I’ll just go home.” I try to move past him, but he doesn’t budge. I fall back against the desk and notice how tightly he’s holding the edge as if doing everything in his power to restrain himself.
“You’re not going home in that,” he growls. I daringly dip a gaze to the front of his pants because I can feel the effect I have on him. He’s on his fucking last nerve, and it rattles me with desire and need I haven’t felt for a very long time. Well, not since we were in the back of his car.
I think about the orgasm he gave me, and my pussy starts greedily throbbing.
“I’ll wear my jacket,” I tell him. “I’ve done it dozens of times.”
“Posie.” His voice is like gravel, and a vein bulges in his neck.
“Yes, boss?” I tack on the “boss” because one of us needs to say it. This is to remind us of the precarious situation we’re clearly putting ourselves in. And I’m not entirely sure I have the self-control or desire to push him away. After all, I enjoy getting under this powerful man’s skin. I love defying him in every way. And all I’ve been thinking about for the last month—no matter how much I try to deny it—is how I can get beneath him again.
“I want to taste you again,” he states, but his tone is a mixture of that earlier frustration and barely-there discipline to not touch me without permission.
I go to speak, but my mouth closes again.
I’ll regret it, won’t I? Nothing good can come from submitting to a man like this, but fuck me, how I want to.
I can’t look away, and as I stare into his eyes, all the memories of that night come flooding back. I was drunk then, but I’m not now. I’m dead sober, and yet the electricity crackling between us feels the same.
“I think I can arrange that,” I whisper, shocked by my honesty. His blue eyes darken, and this time, his frustration is replaced by voracious lust. His gaze is so intense that I’m certain I’m going to crumble beneath it. But, fuck, is he good with his mouth. My gaze dips to his lips.
“Good. Tonight?”
Amy said she could stay all night since I haven’t used her much lately. She’ll also be looking after Bentley tomorrow because I’ve made other plans. So, I could go with him tonight, but what will that mean? Will our dynamic change more than it already has? And will I be okay with that?