Page 20 of Ruthless Wars

“That Windsor knot was no match for your thrusts.”

“You weren’t lying, Margot,” he says roughly, catching his breath. “Unforgettable doesn’t even begin to describe you.”

Sadness fills me, and I stiffen. “That’s just the type of talk that gives me my cue to go.”

“Sure,” he says carelessly, gently resting his weight on me, obviously having no intention of inching out anytime soon. “Tell me your last name, and you can leave. Otherwise, you’re my captive for the rest of the night. And morning. And perhaps breakfast. And dinner.”

His lips coax mine, and I can’t help but want to stay as he nibbles and kisses his way across my neck and shoulders.

“Well,” I say shyly, deliberating his offer for an eternity of a moment.

“Well?” he asks, pinning me beneath him insistently and lifting a questioning brow.

My smile meets his. “Well ... you’re going to need stronger restraints.”

His eyes sparkling, he grins as his nose rubs mine. “What’s your pleasure? Belts, bungee cord, or zip ties?”

“Decisions, decisions ...”

Chapter Twelve

Margot

Tiptoeing through a stranger’s dark house, desperate to shake off my liquored-up haze, I catch a glimpse of the bright glowing numbers of a clock across the room.

Four in the morning.

Admittedly, I’ve never stuck around this long after sex. Also admittedly, I’ve never drank that much in, oh, forever. Technically, the last time was probably when I was a teenager. Early twenties at the latest. Unlike then, the thought of hitting a Waffle House to push past my hangover has somehow lost its luster due to a wave of nausea.

Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I’m scrambling to find my clothes.

Though I normally have an incessant need to ditch my one-nighters, that’s not what’s going on here. Usually, I find them highly unsatisfying and can easily outpace the best of them, but not tonight. No complaints here.

The gorgeous man with his moody, hazel eyes and body that Adonis would kill for has been the perfect distraction. Nothing like having a half dozen orgasms ripped from you to get a day of hell started.

Dressed again and with my clutch in hand, the only thing I’m missing is my undies. Hmm. He did threaten to hide them. That thought brings out a smile, despite my head pounding.

I scan the penthouse in the darkness one last time, fumbling as quietly as possible. Souvenirs, aka evidence, are not my preferred default. But I’ve looked around as much as I’ve dared. Besides, last night’s undies will keep the other pair company.

I peek back in Coop’s bedroom, taking in how his tantalizing physique takes up a good portion of the plush, massive bed, and shove down the ache to curl up beside him and stick around.

But I need to go. The last thing he needs is to be close to the line of fire. And facing hell head-on is what I do best.

Committing every line of the carved muscles of his sleeping body to memory, I temper the bittersweetness of the moment with reality. Rekindling my smile, I imagine his expressive hazel eyes that darkened and lightened like a naughty mood ring and blow him a silent kiss.

Good-bye, Coop.

Chapter Thirteen

Margot

Sleep has never been a solid requirement for me, but a night of hard boozing and endless debauchery definitely makes the morning brighter. Really bright. Like, gas-station levels of brightness are blinding my every step, smacking me right in the face with a JumboTron of fluorescent floodlights.

God help the poor son of a bitch who dares to wish me a good morning.

How I managed to keep my staggering to a minimum on my way to the CEO suite is beyond me. But here I am, staring at a pile of paperwork that may as well be written in Sanskrit.

Doggedly, I flip through page after page, doing my damnedest to make sense of the business at hand. For all I know, my signature on the last page would mean I’ve signed away my soul to the devil for the sins I committed last night and well into this morning.

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