Something snaps inside me and I throw them at him.
“Keep them,” I tell him. “Since you worked so fucking hard getting them off me.”
20
SLAVA
Sun sets,and Bella’s panties are still on my desk.
They’re sitting over a stack of paper like some kind of fucking trophy I didn’t earn. They’ve been sitting there for hours now since she threw them at my face this morning.
I close my eyes, and see her again with her spread wide, and fingers splaying her glistening pussy open. There was a submissive defiance in her eyes when she looked at me. A paradox, I know, but that’s exactly what Bella is.
She’d been so wet that a drop had pooled on the table between her heels. I wanted to push her legs apart and lick that drop away, and keep licking until I’m drowning between her legs.
And she’d practicallybeggedme with that defiant little cunt of hers. Shewantedme to lose control. She’d been counting on me to lose control.
I almost did. My fist slams down on the mahogany before I can stop myself.
The impact rattles through my knuckles, but does nothing to quiet the emotions warring for control in my skull. I’ve killed men for less than the defiance she showed me today.
But somehow, Ilikeit when this infuriating, stubborn, and impossible woman actively defies my will. Instead of punishing her for throwing her soaked panties at me, I stood there watching her put her clothes and dignity back together.
And when she finished, she just went to work like nothing had happened.
Like she wasn’t about to spend the rest of the day commando under that inappropriately professional little outfit, her bare pussy just a thin piece of fabric away from the leather of my chairs, leaving wet traces of herself on every surface she touched.
And like a dog chasing cars, I spent the entire fucking day watching her.
She crossed her legs at the ankle, one heel dangling precariously while she reviewed documents. When she concentrated on something, her soft pink lips would chew on something—either her own lower lip or the cap end of a pen.
I never thought I’d ever be jealous of a fucking pen until today.
And then she kept breaking down the boundaries.
She’d always walk up to my desk, take the glass of my water, and sip from it like it was the most natural thing in the world. As if to remind me that both of us crossed an invisible boundary that neither of us can come back from.
And each time she drank, she’d look me dead in my eyes, and I can read the thoughts running through that pretty little head of hers:
What the fuck are you going to do about it?
The blood had gone to my dick so fast that I felt dizzy. For the rest of the day, the blood stayed right there, pumping in my pants and making me incapable of thinking about anything other than her wet tempting slit.
I’m almost certain she found something this morning. She’d already been snooping around my safe once, and she was rounding my desk when I caught her.
But there was no way she could’ve gotten past the thumbprint scanner on the safe. But still, the nagging suspicion continues to eat away at me like I hadn’t searched her thoroughly enough.
She’s got me rattled, that’s for sure.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text, rescuing me from the spiral of paranoia and arousal that’s become my constant companion ever since Bella came into my life.
My blood pressure spikes when I see who it is:Nico D’Ambrosio.
It’s terribly rude not to respond to an invitation, especially one my father sent personally. The old man’s feelings are fragile these days.
I stare at the message for a long moment. Right…
Don Leo’s seventieth birthday party on his yacht where we’re supposed to discuss ways to keep shit from spiraling out of control.
