Page 58 of Lethal Vows

Reply.

Crue

I can’t helpbut smile at some of these email messages, and the thoughts of what he promises are absolutely tempting. It wasn’t until one of my work colleagues pointed out that I was smiling that I realized I was doing it. Now that I’m conscious of the fact I am doing this, I am hyperaware and try my hardest not to give them any response.

Even though I open them immediately after I receive them. I simply can’t help it.

“Looking absolutely delicious as usual, princess.” He reaches for me and pulls me into him. “I see you’ve been reading my emails all week.”

My hands rest on his chest as I look up at him. “You send one every day, sometimes twice. And I thought I told you to stop coming to my work.”

“I contemplated sending one every time you crossed my mind but figured that was too many, and you may not be impressed with that.” He winks and possessively grabs my jaw, adding, “And you don’t give me orders.” Before I can reply, he leans down and kisses me. It’s soft at first, then his hand slides to the back of my head, and he becomes more demanding. His other hand pushes my ass even closer to him, closing any space there was between us.

“Bye, Rya,” one of my colleagues says as she walks past.

Shit. People are becoming accustomed to him being around.

I pull back and offer a wave without looking.

His thumb swipes at the bottom of my lip. “You have lipstick everywhere,” he says.

“That’s because you molested me,” I grumble.

He smirks, then pulls back and opens the car door. He motions for me to get in.

“I have plans for us tonight,” he tells me as I climb in.

“Plans? Maybe I have my own plans.”

“What did we say about lying? Would you like me to punish you now?” His face is close to mine, his dark gaze penetrating. He waits for me to answer, but I simply grin. When I say nothing in return, he shuts the door, walks around to his side, and slides in next to me.

“What are the plans?” I ask.

“Well, tonight, we’ll be at my place. But first, I have to take you somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I seem to owe you a lot of red lacey things.”

“Two, to be precise,” I remind him.

“Yes, two.” He nods. And that’s all the answer he gives me. Through the window, I take in the busy New York evening in comfortable silence before we come to a stop.

“Where are we?”

“My building,” he says and offers me his hand.

I take it and follow him out of the car. I spot a familiar face as soon as we walk into the building. Dawson is standing there and offers me a gentlemanly smile. He always seems so polished. Crue keeps his hand on my lower back as he leads me into a bar area. It’s quiet, but I notice a bunch of women in the corner who are wearing robes.

“Red, you requested?” Dawson asks, and I look at him, confused.

“Yes, Dawson, red.”

“Easy.” He nods and moves over to the women in the corner.

“What is Dawson doing here?”

“Dawson owns multiple lingerie chains. He’s flown over part of his new collection in advance or your viewing only,” he says as I turn toward the women.

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