Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
"Came to see you," I whisper, looping my arms around his neck. "Is that a crime?"
"Hell no." His hands slide down to my ass, squeezing. "It's a fucking reward." He tips his head forward, claiming my mouth in a hot kiss. By the time he lets me up, I'm wet and aching, panting for breath. "You can come see me anytime you want."
"Oh, really?" I tease, breathless. "You won't kick me out again?"
"Remembered that, huh?"
"You mean you expected me to forget being marched out of here by a cowboy? Yeah, not happening."
He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. "In my defense, it was an act of desperation."
"Oh, yeah? You were that desperate to get rid of me, huh?"
"No. I was that desperate not to drop to my knees and agree to whatever the hell you wanted," he growls, his eyes locked on my face. "You waltzed in here, sweet as pie, and sent me into a tailspin, little bird."
"Interesting," I murmur, running my fingers through his hair. "You sent me into a tailspin before I ever walked through the doors."
"Yeah?" He grins, slipping his hand beneath my skirt. "Lucky me."
I shiver at the feel of his hand against my bare skin, heat twisting through me. This is the absolute last place I should be thinking about sex, but I'm thinking about it anyway. Judging by the look in his eyes, he's thinking about it too.
"What are you doing in here?" I ask, trying to distract myself from thinking about sex.
"Going through his shit. Figured maybe there was something in here the police missed," he says, slipping his hand between my legs. His pinky runs along the seam of my panties, teasing me. "Can't help you bring your sister home without names."
I gasp, gaping at him. "What?"
"You heard me." He inches my panties to the side, licking his lips. "I'm going to help you. But we're doing it my way. I take all the risk, not you. That's non-negotiable."
"But…"
"No buts, Isla." He sinks his pinky into me all the way to the knuckle. "We do it my way. Or not at all."
"Yes," I moan.
"Good girl," he whispers.
"You a-aren't playing fair."
"Oh, I know." He smirks at me. "But this is too important to play fair, little bird. I won't let you put yourself in danger. I won't let you get hurt. That's not happening." He thrusts his pinky in and out of me, leaving me trembling on top of him. "His shit doesn't get to taint you, Isla."
"Brantley," I moan.
"Christ, I love the way you moan my name when you want to come," he growls, leaning forward to nip my throat. "Want to know what I've been thinking about all day?"
"Yes," I gasp.
"He used to get pissed if I touched anything on his desk. So I've been sitting here all day, fantasizing about fucking you over it, just because I can. Just because it's not his desk anymore." He nips my throat again. "You want to help me remind myself that everything in this building is mine now, little bird?"
"God, yes," I moan. It's filthy and dark, a big middle finger to the man who tormented him. But there's an uncurrent of healing to it too, like he's finally proving to himself that his father has no control over him or his life anymore. He's claiming this space and everything in it as his own, removing every trace of his father from it.
If wiping his father's memory from the building brings him even a measure of peace, I'm all in. And if fucking me over Bellamy's desk brings him even a second of pleasure while he does it, then I'll gladly offer myself up. I'll willingly burn.
He holds me to him with one hand, reaching out with the other to swipe everything from the surface of the desk. Stacks of paperwork, office supplies, and the monitor crash to the floor at our feet as Brantley stands, laying me out on the surface of the desk.
"Make me yours," I whisper, my back bowing from the hard wood.
"You're already mine," he growls, chasing my lips with his. He kisses me hard, his hands slipping beneath my skirt again to slide it up my hips. My panties get pulled to the side, tugged out of the way by his impatient hands. I cry out against his lips as he plays with me, his talented fingers quickly driving me toward the brink.
But he doesn't let me go over. Right when I'm on the edge, he pulls back, kissing his way down my body. My shirt comes up, his lips seeking out every spot he learned last night.
"Goddamn, little bird," he growls against my skin. "I love the way you whimper and moan when I've got my mouth on you."
"I love when you have your mouth on me!" As soon as the words leave my lips, I realize I haven't had my mouth on him yet. Not in the same way. "I want my mouth on you, Brantley."