His fingers dig deeper into my cheeks, forcing me to keep eye contact. He fires balls of electricity that zap through me, and it’s getting harder to breathe at the sheer intensity. The tension between us is so fiery, it wouldn’t surprise me if we caught fire.
“Stop me if you can.”
“It was me. I kissed him,” I confess, aware I gambled and lost. And now it’s time to pay my debt.
For a few seconds, betrayal flickers in his eyes, and that feels like a fist squeezing around my heart. No, I refuse to feel guilty. This ordeal is his fault.
Releasing me, he turns his back to me, slamming his fist into his desk hard enough that it might crack. His muscles strain, threatening to rip the shirt on his back. He’s teetering on the edge of control. But what pisses me off is that he’s still fighting himself. I am here. His. So damn his that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t erase the indelible mark he has stamped all over my soul and body. Yet, nothing I could do would crack him.
“Well, nice chat. See you around,” I force a cheer in my voice just to piss him off some more. I am about to move when he prowls to me, blocking my way.
His eyes charge like an explosive ready to go off. “Such a brat, and my palm is fucking itching.”
“Itching to do what?” I sass, arching a brow and continuing to provoke him.
“You want to act like a brat? Then you’re not leaving me another option.” He smirks. “Lockdown.”
One second later, a metallic wall slides down the window and the elevator—the only exit—trapping me inside with no way out.
The room plunges into darkness, save for the small circle of light from the lamp on his desk.
In one hasty move, he pushes me toward his desk. My palms land on either side of me, the hard slap causing the contents to rattle like my insides. I don’t know what is happening. It’s too much, but not enough. Something foreign but familiar. His touch, his imposing presence, his demanding nature. Everything in me demands to obey, to surrender.
A tremor wracks me the moment his finger glides down my spine, leaving goose bumps behind. My nipples pucker and desire unfurls low in my belly. Heavy pants roll out of my mouth, and my vision blurs. From one simple touch.
I lick my lips, my voice barely a whisper. “What are you doing?”
“Savor it, baby girl. What comes next is not for enjoyment, but punishment,” he says low, his hoarse voice tinged with a hint of desperation.
I almost choke on the spit gathering in my mouth.
My thighs clench at that word. I don’t know what is wrong with me to like the sound of my impending punishment. Maybe because I know this side is a part of him. Maybe because I trust him more than I trust anyone else. Or maybe I wish to be punished for putting us through the last three days.
I know we’re forbidden. He’s my brother’s best friend, and Enzo would never rest until he knew the entire story, would feel betrayed that we suddenly developed feelings for each other.
This is all I have. A few days with him before it ends.
“Punish me then,” I give him the permission he doesn’t need. It feels like I give him more than that, the permission to wreck me completely.
“Quite eager, aren’t we?” His deep voice drips with sensuality, sinful and dark, making me grind against his cock to relieve the ache he’s caused. But he’s cruel, taking a step back, and stops touching me. I will kill him if he leaves me in this wanton state. This would be the best and worst punishment.
“Mika.” My voice sounds unfamiliar, heavy with desire.
He notices and settles himself between my legs.
Gripping the back of my neck, he yanks me to his chest to whisper in my ear. “Is it torture, baby girl, to be so near to what you crave and not get it?”
His hot breath fans my sensitive skin, igniting a fireball that rolls through my veins. “Yes…”
He clicks his tongue, tsking. “My touch would be a reward, and you haven’t been a good girl.”
“You know I’m your good girl… Please…” I sound like I feel—desperate.
“Hmm, would my good girl ignore me for three fucking days?” His other hand moves up my thighs, and my head falls against his shoulder, unable to hold it up.
He plays with my body while he fucks with my head—a heady combination leaving me breathless, mindless.
“No, but you deserved it,” I mutter.
