Page 4 of Her Innocent CEO

The actual fuck?

I struggle to remind myself where I am, what’s also happening at the same time as me just about to reach the holiest of holies with the one I know I’m bound to claim.

Jasmine’s gasp is a mix of surprise but also arousal, and true to form, she does her best to try and get rid of this pesky agent whose slunk back into the reception area.

“We’re conducting a search of the entire building,” he continues, ignoring Jasmine and moving straight through to the office behind her desk.

I move back, but only to peer out past Jasmine’s legs, gripping them gently. Her hands keeping hold of my head tell me she’s not going to budge, not for anything.

The guy I’m looking at is made of spaghetti. Stick thin and weasel features give him the right fit for his job.

I can see him doing a brief sweep of the corner office, hearing him open the private bathroom door and the swishing of a curtain or vertical blinds here and there.

Thorough.

I wonder if they will check under…

I have to duck my head back as his eyes nearly meet mine as he gets on all fours, staring with cold, gray eyes underneath the desk in the office behind Jasmine before he stands up, a small cry escaping his lips as he clutches his back.

“Ms. Singleton is absent today,” Jasmine chimes and I hear the tip-tap of her keyboard as she pretends to work, but her thighs have opened slightly again, drawing me in and making me gnaw at my lip until I’m sure I taste blood.

“She is?” Sloane winces, gingerly walking back to reception as I retreat all the way back to the cables and dust at the far end of Jasmine’s workstation.

“I mean,” he adds, clearing his throat. “Of course she is, anybody could see that. We’re actually looking for Mr. Mapleton. You haven’t come across him today?” he asks, a tone of suspicion in his voice as he steps closer.

Jasmine fills the space between me and fuck-knuckle perfectly. I can see his feet and hear him alright, but damn, if she doesn’t close those legs I’m not gonna be held responsible.

“Mr. Mapleton?” Jasmine says, almost scoffing. “I’m sure he has better things to do, places to be than down here on fifteen.”

“And what exactly is it you do down here… on fifteen,” Sloane asks, and I feel my hair bristling as he leans over Jasmine.

My hands are fists in an instant, and despite my best efforts, I let out a low growl of warning.

I’ll come out from under this desk and fuck him right up if he gets another inch closer to Jasmine, I swear.

“What was that?” Sloane clips, his whole body stiffening and I hear him wince again under the pinching of his sciatic nerve or whatever he’s dislodged.

“Lunchtime,” Jasmine says and I can sense her rolling her eyes, and checking her nails as she stifles a yawn, but she doesn’t move an inch.

She won’t let this Sloane character know I’m under her desk.

She’s got that much sorted out.

I watch Sloane’s feet move back. He sniffs and I can feel his eyes moving over Jasmine before they give the reception area and the office doorway a final once over.

“Lunch,” he muses to himself. “Sounds like a good idea, but we have work to do.”

His shoes move away, the sound towards the double doors, which he holds open for a moment before disappearing.

“Don’t leave the building, Ms…?” Sloane asks.

“Tate,” Jasmine says in her best professional tone.

“Tate… Well. We’ll be questioning everybody at some point today, so the building’s on lock-down, hope you brought a sandwich.”

In the seconds that follow I can only hear Jasmine’s heaving breath and then finally my own, as I exhale realizing I’ve been holding back a sneeze, a cough and another snarl for that prick Sloane the whole time.

Chapter Four

Jasmine

I wait as long as I can, but I have to know what’s going on, as well as needing to prove it really is Maddox Mapleton between my legs under my desk.

His head appears and I hold his face in both my hands. His low growl has started something I don’t think I can stop.

I’ve never felt this, nothing like it… I’m assuming he knows how to finish what he’s started.

“This building,” he says, clenching his jaw as he forces his own attention to the situation. “It’s crawling with federal agents, I.R.S. and who knows what else. I came here because…” he continues, but I watch my finger press against his lips.

“You need to hide,” I murmur. But I know it goes a lot further than that.

“We need to leave, but I…” he starts to say again, when the doors swing open again and there’s three men alongside Sloane now.

Badges out, eyes narrowed.

“Ms. Tate,” one says, the boss. Matter of fact before putting his nose an inch from mine as I only just manage to push Maddox’s head back under the desk.

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