Page 52 of Dirty Damage

Ink on a page isn’t enough.

“What does it look like?”

I shift into her space, close enough to test my own resolve.

Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath.

To see the way her chest strains against her shirt.

She stares up at me, and I know that look. It’s the same one she gave me in the locker room.

If I lifted her onto the table right now, she’d let me.

She’d thank me for it.

My cock twitches as I grab the plate from her hands. “I’m helping clear the dishes.”

I turn away from her, smirking when she follows me inside a full five seconds later. We clean up together in silence, the simmering tension just starting to abate.

When I turn around, she’s looking at me, her eyebrows pulled together.

“So… what now?”

My phone buzzes. Artem. For once, I’m grateful for the interruption.

Because the answer to her question involves bending her over this counter, and that’s not what we agreed to.

Not yet.

“I have to take this.” I retreat to my office before I do something I can’t take back. “We’ll talk later.”

15

SUTTON

The first and only time I asked Drew to do the dishes, he slapped my ass and told me that if he started doing work around the house, I’d stop feeling useful, and he didn’t want to take that away from me.

Bastard.

But the Beast does dishes.

Apparently, my bar for men is so low that a little housework is all it takes to rev my engine. I’m sitting on my bed, my thighs pressed together, thinking about Oleg Pavlov’s forearms flexing as he scrubbed my plate after dinner.

Those golden eyes burning into me across the table.

His scars deepening when his jaw clenched.

I thought he was going to bend me over right there between the salt and pepper shakers.

The scary part?

I would have let him.

All my big talk about respect and boundaries went up in flames the second he stepped into my space.

The clock on my phone reads 11:47 PM. I check my messages—nothing from Drew, radio silence from Sydney. Hours ago I got a text, but it was just Mara being Mara:

Bored at work without you. Is what they say about big hands and feet true? Report back after you’ve done the nasty with the boss.

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