In fact, I hate him.
So why do I desperately need to change my panties?
Argh.
I’m aware passersby are shooting wary glances at me.
As more snippets of our heated war of words flash in front of my eyes, I gasp in horror.
Why did I reveal I’m no longer a virgin?
What was I thinking?
That’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking. My mind takes a leave of absence when I’m close to that man.
I blame those damn mystical eyes…
When I wasn’t spitting fire at Phoenix, I was lost in them.
I’ve never seen anything remotely close to that shade of blue in my life
Wow.
And talk about oozing sex appeal.
Damn those König men. They won the gene pool.
While we were sparring, I tried to convince myself Phoenix König was my mortal enemy, but my body wasn’t having it. His manly, expensive scent wafted into the air and traveled straight to my clit.
God, the man smelled so good.
It’s like his scent put a spell on me. That must be why I was so out of sorts. It better be, because I have no logical explanation for my hardening nipples and throbbing pussy. And I can’t even start to explain why I desperately wanted to know what his lips tasted like at the same time as I was fighting the urge to bludgeon him to death with that expensive-looking lamp on his desk. It was an internal battle like I’ve never had to wage before.
Trapped in his office was like being caged in a dungeon of lust. I’ve never loathed a manand found myself attracted to him.
Fuck my life.
In the end, it was all too much.
I had to leave his office before I did the unthinkable—combusted with desire or climbed the tall and utterly sexy man like a tree.
Focus, Mikki.
I ignore the intense way my body reacted to a man I should despise and shove down my inner voice––that isn’t as quiet as I’d like and who’s as horny as fuck. I reach inside my handbag for my phone.
Dammit.
My father still hasn’t called me back.
What the hell is going on in New York that’s monopolizing his time like this?
Daddy is having money problems?
Is the Villiers Grand on the verge of bankruptcy?
Is that why Thana and him are arguing?
Two hundred million dollars for three hundred and sixty-five days married to a pompous, pretentious ass? I doubt I’d even be able to last an hour.
