Page 38 of Innocent Intentions

How much danger am I in?

Chapter 14

Matthias

I try to drag my eyes away from my monitor, but it’s impossible.

Margot’s image consumes my screen.

The security feed from Benny’s room takes up the rightmost display, capturing her in all her beauty.

She’s giggling, laughing, playing with that damn dog, and the sound alone pulls a genuine smile from me. She looks so carefree. I want her to be that way with me. I want her to look at me the way she looks at Benny, sweetly, affectionately, and completely open.

Am I seriously fucking jealous of a dog right now?

My jaw tightens.

I recall the feel of her against me this morning. So warm, soft, mine.

If she had kept wiggling another thirty seconds, I would’ve come in my pants like a fucking teenager.

That’s when I decided, I’m going to wake up on top of her every morning. For the rest of our lives.

And then when she got out of bed, drowning in my clothes, bare under them, her pussy pressed against my pants… I was even harder than I was the night before.

She was adorable, scrambling to change the subject, trying to distract me from what we both knew was happening. But the second she bit that plush, fucking perfect bottom lip, I lost it.

That’s my lip.

Mine to bite.

If she had hesitated for one more second, I would’ve had her pinned to the mattress.

I shiver at the thought of everything we could’ve done.

She’s becoming an addiction.

I can’t go minutes without thinking of her. I need her in my sight. Not just to get my fix, but also to keep her safe.

I know no one is after her, but the second the world realizes she’s mine, they’ll try. Enemies of the Syndicate will see her as leverage. A weakness.

They don’t understand.

Margot Peterson isn’t my weakness. She’s my fucking priority.

Mine to keep. Mine to protect. Mine.

As long as she’s with me, nothing touches her.

Which means I need to focus. On anything but her.

I drag my gaze back to my work, scanning the same paragraph I’ve been trying to read for the past half-hour. It’s a document on our new prototype. Bash’s project. I should be interested.

I’m not.

I try again. First sentence.

Before I even register a word, my eyes flick back to the right monitor.

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