Page 36 of The Opposite Effect

My brows furrow. “What about your drunk chook-cackling friends? Surely, they would have a spare hour to help celebrate your birthday?”

Since I know Clara’s momma had dementia, I forgo mentioning her family, not wanting to upset her on her birthday any more than I already have.

Clara’s eyes lift from the floor and connect with mine. Confusion and another expression I can’t read mars her face.

“The friends you showed up with the night you got your tattoo,” I explain to her puzzled expression.

I swallow the brick in my throat when her eyes narrow intothin slits at the mention of her tattoo.Apparently, she hasn’t gotten over our first tussle in the ring yet.

“I know who you are referring to,” she replies, her tone bitter. “Unfortunately, they’re too…busyto socialize with me today.”

I scoff. “It’s your birthday. Tell them to get un-busy.”

She rolls her eyes before rising from the couch. “It’s fine, Brax, honestly. I’d prefer to stay here anyway. Wasn’t it you who said Inked is my family now? Shouldn’t I spend my birthday with my family?”

Even though she’s asking a question, she doesn’t wait for me to reply. She just moves to my desk to gather a pile of unpaid invoices from the top.

I glare at her in a shocked, disbelieving type of way. “You’d rather stay here than hang out with your friends?” When she nods, I say, “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m calling bullshit.”

She cranks her neck to the side. “Lucky for me, your opinion doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”

I push off the couch and step closer to her. “What’s really going on, Clara? The princess who walked in here demanding a job three months ago would never turn down the opportunity to live it up on the good side of the tracks.”

Her shoulders square as she murmurs something under her breath. She’s so quiet, I miss every word she speaks.

“You need to speak up. I’ve been told on a few occasions I have a problem with my hearing.” Even though I was aiming for witty, my comment comes out a little snarky.

When Clara ignores me, I grasp the top of her arms and force her to face me. I’m taken aback when her eyes lift to mine. Gone is the vibrant spark that typically alights her fiery gaze replaced with a pair of eyes that look lost. I’d even go as far as saying haunted.

Fear grips my heart when she snaps her eyes shut, battling to hold in her tears.

Fuck, I hope she doesn’t cry.The tears she shed weeks ago in my grandmother’s room still haunt me.

“Clara—”

My words stop when the plumpest set of lips brush against mine. I freeze, not to give myself time to assess the situation but to investigate the unique taste of her mouth—minty-cool freshness with a hint of sweetness and warmth.

Only a woman as complicated as Clara could have her lips described as warm and cold at the same time.

Forgetting the seriousness of our conversation,I run my tongue along the seam of her lips, daring her to open her mouth for me. My hang-ups about not messing with a member of my crew are left in the dust when her lips part, giving me full access to her mouth. My cock pulses against the zipper of my jeans as one of my hands moves to her nape, securing her mouth to mine, while the other drops to the curve of her back to pull her closer.

Although I keep my lips sealed over hers, I don’t take the kiss any further than an innocent game of tonsil hockey in the janitor’s closet at my local high school. If she wants this kiss to go further, she’ll need to make all the moves. This way, I won’t fall into the trap of sexually harassing my staff. If anything, she’s assaulting me, and I’ll love every goddamn motherfucking minute of it.

A rough groan tears from my throat when Clara delves her tongue inside my mouth in a long, tantalizing stroke. Her kiss is robust and determined—just like her personality—but warm and enticing. For a woman whose heart appears to be carved from ice, her kiss causes a roasting fervor of excitement to scorch my veins. I shouldn’t be surprised she knows how to kiss. She’s no ordinary woman. Her kisses are no different.

The skin on my torso prickles with goosebumps when she slips her hands under my shirt to rake her nails against the skin of my lower back. I’m certain she can feel the effect hertouch has on my body, but I don’t fucking care. If she wants to touch me, I sure as hell ain’t going to stop her. The only thing I’m stopping is my desire to ravish her on my desk. Why? Because Clara isn’t a bunny, so I won’t treat her as if she is one.

When I pull my lips away from hers and she whimpers, my strength is pushed to its absolute limit. I skim my lips along the edge of her jaw and down her delicate neck before stopping at the collar of her shirt. Just knowing my lips are near an area of her skin I’ve never seen has my cock throbbing furiously and my restraint faltering. It’s a thrilling and torturous experience at the same time.

The throaty moans toppling from Clara’s throat while I nibble on her neck have an edge of danger to them—a clear warning I’m stepping over the line of what is acceptable for an employer and his staff. But, in all honesty, I don’t give a flying fuck. My cock… No. Correct that.I’vewanted this for months.

From the very moment I laid my eyes on her going toe-to-toe with Johnny in the foyer of Inked, I’ve been dying to find out if her feisty personality holds the same level of intensity in the bedroom. From the way her nails are raking my back and the warmth between her legs two layers of jeans can’t conceal, I’ll say my answer is an unequivocal and resounding yes.

My poorly wavering constraint gets harnessed when the creak of my office door sounds through my ears, closely followed by a deep voice. “Your three o’clock is getting snarky.”

My eyes shift to Diesel at the exact moment Clara pulls away from me so abruptly, a blast of warm air smacks me in the face. Pretending there isn’t a massive elephant of awkwardness sitting in the room, Clara peruses the invoices on my desk while muttering, “I’ll be sure to get these paid right away.” She lifts her lust-filled eyes to me. “Was there anything else you needed me to do?”

She puts on a good act of being unaffected, but her blemished cheeks and wide eyes are giving away her true composure. Shelooks exactly how I want her to look—like a woman in the process of being claimed.

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