Page 11 of Shark’s Pride

I got a new eye roll for my trouble. Not exactly the reaction I was going for, but she rarely reacted the way I would think she would to anything. Why would this be any different? And why would I want that to change?

“Oh, yes. I got the flowers.”

“So that’s why you still look like your dog got run over?”

A new huff. “Fine, I’ll just spit it out.” She was too busy fuming to notice me studying her. “It was all a little over-the-top, no? I mean, a bouquet every day? My condo looks like a funeral home, Bas.”

Bas. The single syllable had me forgiving her for the griping. “Nothing is over-the-top where you’re concerned. You’ll get used to that.”

A new, intriguing sparkle in her gorgeous greens. “That so?”

“Sooner rather than later.” I copied her smirk. “I think I’ll enjoy buying things for you.”

How’s that for a heaping helping of honesty, woman?

“And I’ll be sure to thank Terryn on my way out.” She pushed back before fussing around the room again, gathering up her catering things.

“Terryn?” My smile fell. I tilted my head in confusion. “What does she have to do with anything?”

“Isn’t she the one who sent the flowers? I mean, really sent them?”

“Excuse me?” I gave in to a full glower. I was about three seconds from dragging her over my knee, not caring if she protested or not. The look on my face must have warned her plenty though, because she backed even farther away.

“I—I just figured she does the day-after tasks like that for you.” Though she didn’t wobble on the assertion, she exposed more of her nerves by wringing her hands into her apron.

“Day. After. Tasks?” I spat each word like the bitter pills they were.

“Well, you know what I mean.” She waved her free hand. The move reeked of dismissiveness, as if she hadn’t just dealt one of the most significant blows to my fucking gut that I’d had in memory. No, not my stomach. That pain was…higher.

“You are walking a very thin line right now, Ms. Gibson.” My voice dropped to the lowest register I was capable of, and she visibly swallowed while taking another step back.

“You can’t blame me for thinking that, Mr. Shark.”

And now it was Mr. Shark again.

Fuck.

“You have no basis to say something so hurtful.” Step forward. She wasn’t going to win this one. “I sent those flowers to you.” I proved the point by wrapping a hand around her wrist. When she turned, trying to wrench free, I used the moment to my advantage. Within seconds, I’d bent her arm around to the small of her back. Her back was flush against my front once more, with her forearm between us.

When I stepped in again, closing the last bit of space between us, it brought her hand against my erection. Like the good girl she instinctually was, she wrapped her fingers around the outline of my cock.

Damn, this feels good. So fucking good.

“You’re playing with fire right now, girl.” I dipped the fingers of my free hand beneath the elastic band of her pants and ran them around to the front, hovering inches above her pussy. “All I can think of is pulling these pants down and spanking your ass until it’s as red as your hair. Until I can watch those tears I love so much run down your cheeks and over your lips. Mmmm.” I skated my fingers over her mound but didn’t pleasure her, just teased. “Your tears could bathe my dick while I fuck this insolent mouth of yours until you apologize”—I sank my teeth roughly into her ear lobe, and she moaned—“and swallow everything I give you. Maybe, in the future, you’d think twice about being so rude when I do something nice for you.”

“Baaasss,” she whispered, dropping her head onto my shoulder. “Stop this. We—we have to stop this.”

I dropped my hands from her suddenly, shocking her as much as myself.

Jesus.

Maybe she was right.

Or not.

Either way, the decision was made.

I wouldn’t push her anymore. I wouldn’t coerce her into doing something she was so determined to deny herself.