Page 61 of Coldhearted King

“I thought you had plans tonight.”

“I did. Now I don’t.”

“What about work tomorrow?” I ask.

He chuckles darkly. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep you out too late on a school night.”

Well, that answers the question I didn’t ask. I obviously won’t be staying the night. And while I can’t help the instinctual hurt I feel because he only wants me for one thing, I’m well aware that’s what I signed up for. Not to mention, I’m still tingling from the illicit feeling of having his fingers inside me in front of my co-workers, and I need him to finish what he started.

“Say yes,” he mutters in my ear as another feather-light touch grazes my thigh.

“Yes, Cole.”

I glance at him in time to see the corners of his lips twitch up, his eyes glittering, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

He’s not using me. We’re using each other.

And who knew it could feel so good?

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

COLE

When I walk into the architectural team’s office space that evening, it’s late enough that the place is empty. Except for Delilah. She’s sitting at her desk, and I pause for a moment to watch her.

Her long, dark hair is drawn back in a ponytail, with a few loose tendrils falling forward to frame her face as she looks down at what she’s doing. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth and her brow is slightly furrowed as she concentrates.

She’s fucking gorgeous, and my dick stirs in my pants as I anticipate the hours to come, but I don’t move from where I’m loitering at the doorway. My behavior this afternoon is confusing me. I decided to rein in my attraction to her, but after not seeing her last night, the urge to see her today had taken control of me. I canceled my planned dinner meeting with one of my old college associates and did something I hadn’t done since her team moved into the building. I went down there to see her.

The looks I received when I walked in reminded me why I rarely mingle with the workers. Everyone stiffened at my presence, then rushed to look as busy as possible. I made my way to Delilah’s empty desk, wondering where she was and what I should do now that I was there and she wasn’t.

It was then that she walked out of an office near the end of the room, looking like a fucking fantasy in a skirt that hugged her hips before flaring out to flirt with her thighs, and a pale-pink blouse which revealed the barest hint of lace beneath it.

But when Paul walked out and stood behind her, with his hands gripping her hips, a tidal wave of possessiveness crashed over me.

I’ve rarely felt the urge to punch anyone. In my position, people don’t often dare to cross me. But seeing Paul touching her—touching what I’d already claimed as mine, even if only temporarily—made me see red in a way I never have before.

And now here I am, watching her work like I’m some kind of crazy person.

Enough.

I stalk to her desk. She jumps when she notices me, her hand fluttering to her chest. Then she lets out a light laugh. “You scared me.”

“Maybe you should be scared,” I say.

She looks up at me, a playful expression on her face. “Should I? Why is that, Mr. King?”

I lean over her, bracing one hand on her desk, the other on the back of her chair. “Because before the night is out, I’m going to make you scream.”

Her lips part and her pupils dilate, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Should I run, then?”

I lean even closer and growl. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

She blows out a breath. “Y-you’re good at this.”

I straighten with a smirk. “I’ll show you just how good I am when we get back to my place. So let’s go, before I bend you over this table and fuck you right here.”

She stands in a rush. “I’d say you were joking, but at this stage I wouldn’t put it past you.”

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