Page 53 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

That thought hits me like a slap, and I tense. Stunning? What the hell is wrong with me?

But I can’t deny it. There was something electrifying about the way she stood toe-to-toe with me, matching my angerwith her own, refusing to be intimidated. It was infuriating, maddening—and God help me, it was intoxicating.

A dark, unwelcome thought creeps into my mind, unbidden but insistent. The image of her standing there, her chest rising and falling with the force of her emotions, her voice sharp and defiant as she hurled her accusations at me. The way I wanted to grab her, pull her closer, and—

No. Stop. Don’t go there.

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to bury the thought, but it clings stubbornly, like a shadow I can’t escape. The idea of her beneath me, her fiery defiance melting into something else entirely…

Damn it.

I shift uncomfortably, heat pooling low in my stomach as the image sharpens in my mind. This is wrong. It’s all wrong.

I force myself to focus on the sound of her voice, still carrying softly from the room. She’s wrapping up the story now, her tone soothing as she reads the last few lines. I take a step back, retreating into the shadows of the hallway. I don’t want her to see me. Don’t want her to know I was here.

Before she can finish, I turn and make my way toward my bedroom, my steps quick.

Once inside, I close the door behind me and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The room is dim, the heavy curtains drawn, and the faint scent of cedar lingers in theair.

I pace to the bed, my thoughts racing, my body still tense with the aftermath of whatever the hell that was back there, but it only makes me think about her more.

What it would be like to have her in it, spread out for me like a feast, helpless and begging while I punish her with pleasure for her defiance,

My hands clench at my sides as I try to wrestle my thoughts back under control.

This is ridiculous. I’m not some teenager with a crush. I’m a grown man—a father, for Christ’s sake. Annie is off-limits. End of story.

And yet, the memory of her standing in my office, her voice shaking with anger and conviction, refuses to leave me.

Cursing under my breath, I head for the bathroom, stripping off my shirt as I go. I turn the shower on and crank the handle all the way to cold. The icy spray hits me like a slap, and I suck in a sharp breath, my muscles tightening against the chill.

It doesn’t help. Not entirely. But at least it drowns out the heat simmering under my skin, if only for a moment.

I close my eyes and let the water wash over me, the cold needles beating a tattoo against my flesh. I force myself to count slowly, inhaling through my nose, exhaling through my mouth, and try not to think about the way Annie looked in my lap, shocked pleasure on her face while she rode my fingers.

Or the way she would look splayed across my bed, her hands bound to the headboard while I take her roughly from behind, her breathless moans urging me on.

Or the way she would sound when she screamed my name, her body clenching around me in release.

I'm rock hard now, standing at the ready, and I grit my teeth. Damn it.

I brace my hand against the tile wall, the water pummeling me from behind, and force myself to count again.

One, two, three. Inhale.

One, two, three. Exhale.

Over and over, waiting for the numbers to drown out everything else. But they don't. Not the way they usually do.

The tension inside me builds, and I let out a groan, reaching down to take myself in hand. Maybe if I just give in to this, just for a moment, it will leave me the hell alone.

I turn the shower back to warm, then warmer still.

I stroke myself roughly, the motion harsher than I normally prefer, but I'm not in the mood for tenderness. Or anything resembling tenderness.

I want to fuck her until she's writhing with pleasure and begging mefor more.

The thought shoots through me like a lightning bolt, and I pick up my pace, squeezing harder. It feels good, but it's not enough. Not what I really want.

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