Page 61 of Accidental Vegas Vows

“Is this it?” he asked, glancing at my computer screen, one eyebrow raising at the white and black PowerPoint slide.

“Please don’t do this,” I breathed, keeping my voice low enough in the hopes that only he could hear me. “Just get me out of here.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off my chair. “Looks great,” he lied, but he sounded believable enough. “Hillary in accounting needs to see you. I was nearby anyway so I figured I’d grab you for her.”

Who the fuck is Hillary in accounting? “Uh, okay,” I mumbled. I pushed back in my chair and stood, smoothing out my black pencil skirt where it had wrinkled from sitting down for hours.

“Bring your things,” he added.

“To accounting?” I could feel the stares lingering on me as I held his gaze, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.

He nodded.

————

The fucking elevator went right past the floor for accounting.

“Prick,” I mumbled, fidgeting with the sleeves of my cardigan as the elevator climbed and climbed.

One arm slid around my front, pulling me back against his hardened chest. “You wanted out. I got you out, princess. Be thankful,” he purred. Something sharp grated against the top of my ear, and in the metallic reflection of us from the doors, his eyes met mine, his teeth gently holding onto my ear.

“They’ll ask more questions now,” I sighed.

“They won’t.” The elevator dinged and he released me immediately, putting a breath of healthy distance between us before the doors slid open to his floor. “I was drafting an email to your manager on my way down. If your coworkers think that their jobs are secure just because they got selected for a presentation, then they’re far too naive.”

He stepped around me and motioned for me to follow, crossing the threshold out into the long corridor that branched the private offices. “Damien, you can’t just fire them.”

“I’m not firing them, princess,” he said quietly, his guard not as high in the empty hallway. “It’ll be a warning. A warning they should have received last week when you didn’t want me to intervene.”

“Because I don’t want you bringing more attention to the problem. It’ll just make it worse.”

“Not if they’ll be written up for it happening again,” he grinned.

He pushed the door to his office open, the natural light flooding my senses. It was so much nicer in here than it was in our small office downstairs — all we had was fluorescent lighting and dying plants, but that’s where the first-year hires in project management ended up.

“You can work in here for the rest of the day,” he said. “I’ve got a meeting in half an hour, and I’ll be in and out for the rest of the afternoon. Might as well get a good amount of use.”

As much as I hated him for intervening, I fucking loved his office. And I could actually get work done in here.

I shot him an annoyed smirk as I dropped my bag onto the sofa and shucked my cardigan. The natural light made it warm enough that I didn’t even need it — it was a normal temperature in here instead of the freezing one my manager was set to keep the thermostat at.

I flopped down onto the plush cushions as he watched, sprawling across the sofa and lying down in the sun. “I guess marrying the CEO has its perks,” I grinned.

A little chuckle left him as he took a step toward me, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Is that why you married me, then? Not so you could feel okay about losing your virginity to someone you barely knew?”

Asshole. I tucked my lower lip between my teeth and pulled my legs up onto the couch, my pencil skirt rising just an inch, the slit in the back parting. “Don’t act like you didn’t marry me just to fulfill some wild fantasy of stealing a woman’s virginity.”

He snorted as he stepped around the glass coffee table, his wristwatch glinting as he entered the rays of the sun. “I’ve done that before,” he said, slipping one hand from his pocket and placing it on my bent, stockings-covered knee. “But that wasn’t it. Want to try again, Liv?”

His fingers made circles on the sheer tights, forcing goosebumps to erupt across my skin and my lower gut to coil. Fuck. “You were so drunk and horny that you’d have done anything to see me naked?”

“I saw all of you in that bathroom before we met Elvis,” he drawled, the tips of his digits digging in and forcing my legs to part just a little bit more. “One more guess.”

At the front of his slacks, just between his hip bones, something hard pressed against his zipper. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

His fingers dipped lower across my inner thigh, exploring, feeling, traveling down, down, down, until they slipped beneath my skirt, until they rested against the fleshiest part of my leg, until they fisted the fragile material. Runs sprang to life across my tights, and he pulled, splintering the fabric more. “Come on, princess. Use your words.”

Cool air hit the warmest part of me as the tights gave way, ripping entirely along the center seam. “You…” I swallowed, struggling to find the right words as he pushed my legs further apart, his eyes locked on me as his hand explored. “You wanted to fuck me and I wouldn’t let you unless we were married.”

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