Page 81 of Dial B for Billionaire

“Even though no one was in the room to see it?”

“With the way my father sat with his head down for the rest of the meeting, I have a feeling they filled in the gaps.”

“Hmm. It wasn't my intention to cause gossip.”

“I think it's kinda hot that you had my back. No one's done that for me before.”

His eyes lock on mine. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat.”

“So…” I bite my lip and lean in a little closer. “How long are you betting on for the office pool?”

“I don't bet.” His eyes darken, hands tightening on my waist. “But if I did, it'd be longer than any spreadsheet can calculate.”

The words should terrify me. Instead, they send heat spiraling through my body like lit dynamite. I kiss him hard, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. He responds immediately, one hand tangling in my hair while the other curves around my hip, pulling me flush against him.

“No bra,” he murmurs against my lips when his thumb brushes my nipple. “Were you planning this all along?”

“Maybe I just like how your shirts feel,” I counter, gasping when he pinches lightly.

“Liar.” He echoes my earlier accusation, voice rough with want.

In one smooth motion, he flips us so I'm beneath him on the couch, his weight pressing me into expensive leather. The evidence of his arousal is obvious through his sweatpants, hard against my inner thigh.

“I really should be working,” I whisper, though neither my brain nor my body seems committed to that idea.

“Very important lab results,” he murmurs, already pushing the shirt up to expose my breasts to cool air and his heated gaze.

“Incredibly.”

When his mouth closes around my nipple, all thoughts of work evaporate. My fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on first one breast, then the other, until I'm squirming beneath him.

“Bennett,” I gasp, tugging at his hair. “Please.”

He looks up, eyes black with desire. “Please what?”

“Stop teasing.”

“But you're gorgeous when you're desperate.” His hand slips beneath my underwear, finding me already wet. The smug satisfaction on his face should annoy me, but I'm too far gone to care.

“I fucking love how wet you get for me,” he growls, sliding two fingers inside with practiced ease. “Tell me—are you like this in board meetings too?”

“Yes,” I admit, hips bucking as he curls his fingers just right. “Especially when you roll up your sleeves.”

His laugh vibrates against my skin. “I knew it. I've caught you staring.”

“Like you're any better.” My voice breaks as his thumb finds my clit. “That pencil skirt had you practically drooling.”

“Because it hugs your ass perfectly.” He increases thepressure, the pace, driving me toward the edge with devastating efficiency. “Made me want to bend you over the conference table.”

The image—Bennett losing control in the middle of a meeting, claiming me in front of everyone—pushes me closer to release. My nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure builds, coiling tighter with each stroke of his fingers.

His phone rings, sharp and intrusive.

We both freeze.

“Ignore it,” I plead, so close I could cry.

He glances at the screen. “It's Caleb.”

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