Evil.Evil man.
“Where does he get breakfast every morning?”
What?Breakfast?What the hell was Fink talking about?Who cared where this guy ate?
“What does he order?”
Determined, she skimmed the document, trying to locate the name of a restaurant.Anything that looked remotely like a diner or a café or something.Was this a trick?Did Joey even eat breakfast in the morning?For all she knew, he was a protein bar and Muscle Milk kind of guy.
Then again, Sydney had seen a photo of him.While she wasn’t the fittest person on the planet, she didn’t have nearly as big of a gut as Joey.
There!
Nearly every day, around six fifteen in the morning, this guy went to the same place for bacon, egg, and cheese on a croissant.
“Sue Ellen’s Tea House,” she cried out in victory.
“Good girl,” Fink purred as his hand slid up her thigh.Tiny fireworks popped along her skin, growing in intensity the closer he got to her sex.Parting her legs, she invited him to continue his exploration.
His lips found her neck again, and she let her head fall back.Maybe she shouldn’t knock studying.This was insanely better now.
He flicked his tongue along her jugular as his fingers dipped into the waistband of her leggings.Lifting her ass off the cushion, she allowed him to tug them down her legs until they tangled at her ankles.
“What about lunch?”His breathy words danced against her ear.
Dammit.She couldn’t think about Joey right now.Not when Fink’s hand rested on her moist mound.
“Don’t make me stop,” he implored.“I’ve been fighting this for days.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she hissed.
“You’re a devilish temptation that I want to enjoy,” he explained.“But we have work to do, and you begged me.I’m teaching you the only way I know how.”
Sent straight from hell.Fink was a demon here to corrupt Sydney, and she was all about it.
When he traced his fingers along her panty-clad pussy, she whimpered.This wasn’t fair.
Swallowing hard, she brought the bank statements into focus.“Duke’s,” she declared.
“Good girl.”Fink pushed her panties aside and dipped a finger into her wetness.
She gasped and arched her back.Her fingers tightened, crinkling the papers in her hand.
“What time?”he asked as his digit flicked against her clit.
A jolt shot through her, and her breath hitched.He found a way to make plotting murder so erotic.“Eleven-ish.”Her voice shook while he circled the nubbin of nerves.
“What should we do with that information?”he asked as he pulled the blanket away with his free hand.
“I don’t have a clue,” she cried.Her brain wasn’t working.She hadn’t done this before.How was she supposed to know what to do?“Teach me.”
Cool air washed over her heated skin, and her nipples peaked, poking through the thin fabric of her tank top.Sydney’s mind was mush.He had to stop questioning her.
Panting wildly, she panicked the moment he removed his hand.
“Wait,” she whimpered.
Wearing a sinister grin, he pushed the ottoman farther away.
