Page 52 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife
"I haven’t begun."
She makes a hissing sound.
How cute. I bite the inside of my cheek. "You’re beginning to sound like a scratchy vinyl."
"And you’re seriously pissing me off." She snaps her head back and connects with my chest. The vibrations ricochet down to the inevitable destination… my groin. My shaft engorges further. Fuck.
I widen my stance. She links her fingers, snaps back her arms and buries her elbows in my solar plexus.
Stars flash behind my eyes. My vision narrows.
"That’s enough."
I push her against the conference table, and she squeaks.
I bend her over, so her cheek is flat on the surface. Her arse sticks out in the air, and slots in very nicely against my front, thank you very much. I drop the phone face up on the table, then flex my fingers. "If you continue this way, it’s going to make things worse."
"Buzz off." She kicks out, catches me in the shin.
My thighs flex, my balls throb in reaction.
"I can’t let that go unpunished." I step back, putting a smidgen of space between us, then spank her arse, once.
Her entire body jerks, "Jesus," she yells.
"You called, Babe?"
"OMG, that was beyond corny. Did you read the book on Ten Ways to Seduce a woman? Newsflash asshole, this is not one of them, by the way."
"It’s a million ways actually. I wrote it."
There’s silence for another beat, then a chuckle wheezes out of her. Something lifts from my shoulders. Guilt at how I am behaving with her? How being with her pushes me to indulge myself; actions I always regret later, me second-guessing my own actions? What the hell is happening here?
"We’re too bloody combustible together," I whisper my knuckles over her delectable jawline, "and therein lies the problem."
"Oh, no… no, no, no." She shakes her head, "Don’t try to put this down to some weird chemistry that riles us both up, and that I hate you because secretly, I am attracted to you, because I am not. I am not."
"Let’s find out, shall we?"
I grab that pencil skirt and yank it up and over her butt.
