Page 86 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
She snarls low in her throat. Damn it, those little sounds she makes? I’ll ensure it’s an all-out cry when I have her spread out on my desk and—
"It’s an invasion of privacy." She hisses.
"That’s not the only thing I’m going to invade."
She reddens, and her chest heaves in the way that implies that she’s seriously turned on. Bet her panties are soaking wet, not that I am complaining. I wish we were alone so I could shove my fingers between her legs and confirm my theory. My fingers twinge and I fold them into a fist at my side.
"Are you going to use every word I say against me?" Summer mutters
I arch an eyebrow.
She swipes her hair back, "Forget I asked."
"Mr. Sterling," Karma interrupts. "That sure is a generous offer, by the way."
"What is?" Summer frowns.
"He didn’t tell you?" She blinks, "How many men would give carte blanche to their bride to organize the wedding their way."
"Only the cunning, conniving, obnoxious ones." Summer mumbles.
So fucking feisty. This woman, she hasn’t a hope in hell of keeping up with me. Still, I have to give her full points for trying, which is more than what I’d acknowledge with any other opponent. She is turning out to be nothing like what I had expected. Surprises, I hate them. Challenges… Yeah, I can definitely credit her as a puzzle to be solved, a game to be played, safe in the knowledge that there will be one winner—me.
"That all you’ve got?" I allow my lips to curl.
"And you…" Summer glowers at Karma, "I can’t believe you are ganging up on me with him."
There’s a loud bang on the front door, which flies open. "Are we too late?"
Summer blinks. "Isla, Amelie?"
"I took the liberty of inviting your closest friends too."
