Page 80 of Obsessed Heir

But I’m a businessman—a shark swimming in a corporate tank full of smaller sharks, so this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called a bastard.

Instead, taking a bit of amusement at Abigail’s mortified expression, I reach over to toy with her nipple. She gapes at me, incredulous, as I roll and tweak the tender peak between my thumb and forefinger.

“I have your breakfast, sir,” James replies in an unflappable manner, oblivious to what’s happening on the other side. “I didn’t know if I should come by this early...”

“I’m good with coming this early,” I murmur.

She glares at me as I grind my hips into hers, making my message clear. “Would you get off me.” Her furious whisper is laced with mortification and feminine outrage.

Instead of obeying the beauty beneath me, I lean closer until my lips brush the delicate shell of her ear. “He’s going to hear you,” I murmur, unconcerned.

Her mouth snaps shut, her full lips pressing into a flat, mutinous line. She has to realize that if she calls out or fights me too loudly, she’ll give herself away.

“Sir?” James asks from the hallway, likely wondering what’s going on.

“You can leave it in the kitchen, James.” I keep my tone dismissive because I’m not about to pull out until I absolutely have to.

“Of course, sir,” he acknowledges smoothly. “Also, Miss Holly would like you dressed in a suit again today. She wants you and Miss Abby to be at The Martini Bar.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“She says it’s the best place to have people see you as they come and go.”

That’s exactly what she meant to do.

“Very well. What time?” I sigh, agreeing grudgingly.

Running around with Abigail today doesn’t seem as much of a chore as I thought it would be yesterday. Then again, I’ve seen a whole other side of her since then.

“Preferably within the hour,” James replies with a hint of apology.

“Preferably,” I mutter, already annoyed at having to move.

“Do you know where I might find Miss Abby?” he continues in that same unruffled tone.

I grin down at her.

“Don’t you dare,” she says in a stage whisper. Obviously, she’s guessed I have no issue with the guy knowing precisely where she is.

I pinch her nipple, grinning wider at the menacing look she shoots at me.

“Did you need to talk to her?” I enjoy watching her eyes turn stormy as the heel of her palm connects with my shoulder. “Shh, or he might come in to see if I’m okay,” I warn from beside her temple.

“Miss Holly sent some clothes for her to wear. Actually, she called it maiden-wear,” he adds with a note of amusement.

“I’ll make sure she knows,” I assure James, thoroughly enjoying the fresh wave of color flooding Abigail’s cheeks.

“Thank you, sir,” he replies. “Also, there will be someone here for hair and makeup in half an hour.”

Abigail’s eyes grow huge.

“Thank you, James.”

“Should I leave the dress here, sir?”

Abigail drops her head against my shoulder.

“Oh God,” she mumbles, humiliated.

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