Page 62 of Masked Seduction
“Oh really?” I chuckle, sliding a palm between us and patting his chest twice. “Hate to break it to you, boss, but you’ve got a meeting with Mikail and Denis in an hour.”
He groans.
“Which means,” I add, stepping out of his arms with a little sway in my hips, “you’ve got exactly fifty-eight minutes to review theirproposal before you start winging it in front of your two most important lieutenants.”
“You’re no fun.”
I flash a grin over my shoulder. “Oh, I’m a lot of fun. Just not the kind you can squeeze into an hour.”
With a sassy wink, I head for the door—hips swaying, grin wicked, leaving him to his meeting and his frustration.
“We could accomplish a hell of a lot in an hour, ya know,” Abram calls after me, tone laced with a smoky promise.
I pause at his door, glancing back over my shoulder with a teasing smirk. “And yet, think of all the ways I can reward your patience tonight.” My voice drops into a playful purr. “Trust me—it’ll be worth the wait.”
His eyes darken in that way I’ve come to crave, and he closes the distance in two long strides, taking my face gently in his hands. “Are you sure you want to wait?”
God, the way he kisses me—possessive yet tender—melts every last ounce of my resistance. My fingers thread through his shirt, tempted to tug him back toward that damned irresistible desk. I pull away just enough to catch my breath, my lips tingling with the ghost of his kiss.
“Barely,” I whisper honestly, feeling the heat rising within. “But yeah. I’m sure.”
Abram chuckles, giving my ass a playful slap as I finally turn away.
I whirl back around, mouth dropping open in mock outrage. “You’re going to pay for that!”
He leans casually against the wall, those ice-blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “And you’re going to love every minute of it. I’m well aware how much you enjoy a little spanking, Jenna.”
A blush heats my cheeks. Damn him. He’s right. “Behave,” I scold, closing his office door firmly behind me but not before I catch the smug grin spreading across his face.
God, he’s trouble.
Smiling to myself, I cross to my office, my pulse still pleasantly buzzing. I groan at the clutter before me. Papers are scattered everywhere; I’ve let it get completely out of hand.
I sit down and start sorting, stacking papers into tidy piles, trashing useless printouts and sticky notes. As I file and organize, my mind drifts inevitably to Abram. That little slap echoes in my memory, stoking a fantasy that slips in uninvited:
Abram bends me over his desk, his hands firm on my hips, pressing himself against me, while whispering dirty promises that send heat shooting through my entire body. His hand slides slowly up my thigh, teasing my skirt higher until…
I catch myself, cheeks heating again as I smile like an idiot. I’m hopeless around that man.
Determined to regain focus, I move onto the drawers, pulling them open and sorting out pens, paperclips, and random office supplies. Satisfied, I tug open the third drawer, and stop cold.
A box of tampons stares back at me.
I frown, confused, and pick it up slowly. When was the last time I…?
Oh.
A flicker of unease ripples through me. My period. When exactly did I have it last? I rack my brain, trying to remember.
I glance at my desk calendar, then open my phone and swipe through my cycle-tracking app. My heart jumps unpleasantly. According to the app, I’m overdue. A full week overdue, to be precise.
This doesn’t happen; I’m never late.
I stare at my phone, trying not to panic. It could just be stress. I have been busy—working long hours, sleeping with my sexy-as-hell boss in between. Stress can definitely delay periods.
My phone buzzes suddenly, causing me to nearly drop it. Claire’s name pops up on my screen. I open the text.
Remember—happy hour at five o’clock! Don’t stand me up!
