I’m bored.
Watching shows I’ve been meaning to catch up on is something I like to do on my off days, but it has no appeal to me. Not when there’s a whole man I could be terrorizing upstairs.
He deserves it. Letting him off easy isn’t the Addison way, and I want to make him regret his decision to keep me locked up.
I stand from the couch, stretching out my limbs before I pad up the stairs. I can hear the clicking of keys as I near the office and stop in the doorway.
It’s pretty standard and looks like something an Oxford professor would utilize. There’s a shelf of untouched encyclopedias, a vintage rug, and two uncomfortable chairs positioned across from the man who frowns at the desktop. There’s a deep furrow between Rowan’s brows, and it’s strange to see this massive, tattooed man behind such a dainty and elegant desk.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, not looking up from his work.
I hang on the door, squeaking the hinges as I rock back and forth. “I’m bored.”
He pauses his typing for a brief moment before resuming. “I thought you were watching TV?”
I roll my eyes, stepping into the room as I ghost my fingers over the spines of the encyclopedias. “There was nothing good on. What’s the fun in being your captive if you don’t give me anything to do?”
“You’re not my captive,” he says absently.
“Could have fooled me,” I whisper, stepping behind his desk. He doesn’t stop me as I peer over his shoulder at thespreadsheet open on the screen. The file is saved as ‘Expense Log,’ and I grow curious as my eyes scan the rows of numbers. It’s organized and neat, but I notice the inconsistencies immediately.
“You didn’t carry the one on that line,” I point to the second row, placing my hand on his shoulder.
He sighs deeply, resting his elbow on the desk as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is aggravating. I’m gone for a few days, and Thalia lets the books go to shit.”
He sounds stressed. I shouldn’t feel bad for him, but the part of me that loves numbers and fixing people is preening as I bump him with my hip. “Move, Assassin Man. I got this.”
Rowan sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Be my guest. I’ve been staring at it for an hour.”
I take over, my mind humming as the numbers float around me. “You’re paying people, right? Do you know how much per hit?”
He tilts his head. “I have an algorithm attached that’s meant to work out the numbers for me. A portion goes to the syndicate shared account, and the rest goes to whoever completed the hit.”
I see what he’s talking about, but the algorithm is so messed up and outdated that it isn’t running properly. I click a few buttons before adding a touch I learned over my years of working in the field. When it finally updates, everything changes. The numbers correct themselves, and satisfaction bursts in my chest.
Rowan’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. What did you do?”
“It will take some time to explain, but I can write some notes for you.” I shrug, the corners of my lips lifting.
He pats his knee. “Sit and explain it to me.”
Heat uncurls in my lower stomach, and I feel the blush painting over my cheeks. I shouldn’t accept the invitation, but as I see him lift a brow, I know he would expect that. And I don’t want to lose at this little game.
I perch on the end of his knee, painfully aware of oursize difference. As he places his big hand next to mine, my cheeks flame even brighter as I remember the way those hands gripped my hips and finger fucked me to completion on his face.
I shift, and Rowan groans from behind me. The sound is deep and shoots straight to my clit. He palms my hip, his fingers burying under my shirt as he holds me still.
“Keep moving and I’ll fuck you over this desk, Sunshine,” he growls.
The rush of arousal that soaks my panties is embarrassing. I worry that I’ll leave a wet spot on his jeans if I don’t show him this quickly. “Right,” my voice sounds unsure and meek, but I pull up everything I programmed. “Um, this is the new algorithm.”
“I know that,” he whispers, his breath fanning my ear before I feel the first touch of his gentle lips where my shoulder meets my throat. He brushes my hair aside, giving him more access as goosebumps break out on my arms. I bite back my moan as he trails over my skin. “Explain it to me.”
“I…” I fight with my will, closing my eyes as my breathing becomes deep. “I put the percentage of what goes into the shared account into the processor, and then added something that would deduct the money automatically from the payment…”
“Mhm,” he hums against my flesh. The vibration travels through me as his nose brushes me. He’s tasting me, and I don’t want him to stop. “You’re so fucking smart, Sunshine. I’m proud of you.”
His praise does something primal to me. My core begins to ache, and I feel like I’m burning alive under his lips.
