I expected sex with Ronan to be rough, but what I didn’t expect was how much I wouldenjoyit. Being completely at his mercy brought me to climax so hard I’m surprised I didn’t pass out from the pleasure.
He wrecked me, and every time I shift in my chair, I’m reminded of how he claimed me.
Of how much I wanted it.
Of how much Istillwant it.
I’m pathetic.
"Are you listening?" His deep voice cuts through my thoughts, and I blink.
"Huh? Oh, yeah…sorry."
He narrows his eyes at me, but if he sees guilt written on my face, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns his laptop around so I can see the screen.
"You're just entering payment records to start with.” He clicks on a folder and opens up a spreadsheet. “It’s nothing complicated. All you need to do is check the vendor name, date, amount, and the reference code and then cross-check it with the invoices in this folder."
He places his hand on the stack of paperwork beside the computer, and I’m momentarily distracted by the muscles of his forearms flexing.
I swear he’s doing this on purpose.
“Sounds easy enough,” I mutter.
"A trained monkey could do it."
I bristle at his words, and Ronan smirks.
Bastard.
I scribble down a few notes in my notebook to make it look like I'm taking this very seriously, but I can’t ignore my disappointment at the reality of this job. I thought it might give me real access to information I could use, but instead, Ronan has given me nothing but busywork.
But I should have known better than to think he’d trust me,especiallyafter the way he caught me snooping through his things the other day.
My face burns at the memory.
I can’t believe I got caught red-handed like a damn amateur.
I glance up under my lashes, and sure enough, Ronan’s watching me with something like knowing in his eyes.
He knew what I was trying to do, and he's making damn sure I can’t do it again.
My pulse quickens, but I can’t bring myself to look away.
His dark eyes search my own, as if he’s looking for something in particular, but his phone buzzes, and he looks away, and I release the breath I’d been holding.
He glances at the screen and frowns, his lips pressing together in a thin line.
“What is it?” I ask, desperate to break the silence.
"Meeting." He shoves the phone into his pocket and stands. "You’ll be okay here?"
"I'm not an idiot.” I roll my eyes.
His brows lift, and for a second, I think he might say something, but he only nods.
"Use that laptop for now. I'll get you one of your own this week."
The words are clipped and formal, but his eyes linger on me longer than necessary, as if he’s fighting the urge to stay.
