Page 184 of By His Rule

Boss: Lorelei…

My skin prickles as I hear his deep warning voice as if it’s growled in my ear.

Lori: I’m sure you have plenty of girls willing to send you naughty pics. Message one of them. I’m not interested. You have an early start tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep.

Boss: I’m not the one who has an issue with their punctuality.

Lori: Goodnight, Kian. Sleep well.

I should turn my cell off, but the temptation of knowing if he’s replied again is too much to ignore.

But he doesn’t, and I drift off feeling disappointed instead of celebrating that I got the final word in.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“What the fuck?” I gasp, sitting upright in bed, my eyes wide and my heart pounding.

A cold sweat covers my skin as I wait for something else.

But there’s nothing. Not for a few seconds, anyway.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Recognizing the sound this time, I throw the sheets off and get to my feet, confident that someone isn’t robbing the place.

Ripping my bedroom door open, I march through the hallway toward the irritating noise.

I stretch up on my toes and peer through the peephole to discover which asshole thinks it’ll be funny to wake me before dawn.

“Of fucking course,” I mutter when I find an impatient man glaring back at me.

“Open the fucking door, Lorelei,” he demands, fully aware that I’m on the other side. Fuck knows how.

“Motherfucker.”

Pulling my sleep bonnet from my head, I let my curls fall around my shoulders before I unlock the door and pull it open.

“What?” I snap with my hands on my hips and my best resting bitch face in place.

He doesn’t dignify my question with an answer. Instead, he barges past me and storms into my apartment like he owns it.

“What the hell, Callahan?” I demand as he continues toward my bedroom.

I rush behind him, continuing to glare as he looks around as if he’s expecting to find something.

“What?” I snap again.

“There’s no suitcase. You’re not packed,” he states, spinning around to pin me with a weighted look of his own.

“Why would I need to pack?”

“You’re not…” He scrubs his hand down his face in disbelief. As he does so, his dark eyes drop from mine and he finally acknowledges what I’m wearing—or not, as the case may be.

My skin burns despite the thin layer of cotton stopping him from seeing me in all my glory. Not that it matters, he’s already seen everything already. My nipples harden as he makes his way back up. There’s no way he doesn’t notice, but he keeps his expression neutral.

It’s not until his eyes meet mine that I see any kind of reaction.

They’re molten.

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