Page 23 of Dangerous Vows

I know she remembers how she lost her breath as I penetrated her with my large cock.

I flash her my devilish grin, the one that makes every woman kneel.

But she’s ignoring me.

“Since we’re being professional,” she says, adjusting her stance, “I assume you’ll respect my position here.”

I arch a brow. “Your position?”

She lifts her chin. “Assistant manager.”

I blink. “You’re kidding.”

She crosses her arms. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

I glance at the tablet in her hands, and I quickly recognize the employee schedules and neatly organized columns… and fuck, she’s color-coded them!

Mm. She’s serious.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Well, well. Looks like I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

She groans, rubbing her temples. “Not if I can help it. This is a nightmare.”

“For you, maybe,” I grin mischievously.

“For both of us,” she replies with an attitude.

If I were candy, I would have melted like a Hershey’s kiss under her intense glare.

She’s the perfect distraction to my long nights. She’s the woman I want under me, on top of me, and, most importantly, ridding my cock.

“We’ll see,” I stoically reply.

She exhales sharply. “Alright, listen. I don’t care what happened between us. Here? You’re my boss. And I have a job to do. So, let’s just—let’s keep it professional, okay?”

I smirk. “You sure you can handle that?”

She glares. “You think highly of yourself. I can handle it. The question is, can you?”

I chuckle, standing my ground. She’s dressed professionally, but it doesn’t stop me from replaying what she looks and feels like underneath her clothes. “We’ll see how long the formality lasts. Care to make a wager?”

She doesn’t dignify me with a response. Instead, she turns sharply on her heels and stalks toward the office.

But she can’t hide how her body trembled before she stomped off or how her hands shook slightly.

And there’s no explanation for her deep exhale as she tried to steady herself or ward off signs of her attraction.

I know she’s wet for me.

This is going to be fun.

I checkmy phone as I lounge in my office, a whiskey glass in one hand. A new message from Amara pops up.

We need to talk about the clientele situation. I don’t think hosting private VIP rooms for certain types of guests is a good idea.

I smirk, typing back.

Certain types?

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