Page 33 of The Denver Alpha

I scrub a hand over my face, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Why do you keep pushing me?” I groan, flinging my gaze to the ceiling to resist ogling her from up close.

She nudges my thigh with a high-heel clad foot. “Maybe because I enjoy it,” she teases. “Or maybe I just want to see who you are when you let go. The real you.”

I lower my gaze to meet hers, which is a huge fucking mistake. Those ice-blue eyes practically pierce my soul. “I told you before, this is me,” I grumble.

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, assessing me before giving a quick shake of her head. “Nope, not buying it.”

I grip onto the arms of the desk chair and push up, needing to put some space between us. This is how it always starts with Juliet and me- I’m calm, and then she relentlessly pushes my buttons with her bratty attitude until I’m on the verge of losing my shit.

I snatch up my tumbler from the desk and head back over to the bar to refresh my drink.

“What’s had you so wound up all night?” Juliet asks as I start to pour bourbon into my glass.

“What do you mean?”

“Please.”

I pour myself a little bit more than last time, taking a swig as I turn back toward Juliet. She’s still perched on the edge of the desk, smirking in my direction.

“That vein in the side of your neck was practically pulsing for the last hour,” she chuckles, watching me as I round the desk and retake my seat.

I pause as I bring my drink back up to my lips, considering her statement.

Shit, if she picked up on that, did Holley?

I take another sip of liquor, mulling it over as I set the glass down. Within a millisecond, Juliet snatches it up, throwing it back again before I can stop her.

A scowl creases my brow, a growl starting in my chest as I watch her lick the bourbon from her lips.

“So I’ll ask again,” Juliet sighs as she sets the empty tumbler down and leans toward me, pinning me with an amused stare and arching a brow. “Why so agitated, Sarge?”

It’s the nickname that does me in. One second, I’m sitting there with my hands balled into fists, practically trembling from the effort of holding back, and the next I’m up out of my chair, my hand gripped around her slender throat as I shove her back onto the desk, hovering over her menacingly.

“Knock it off,” I bark, my chest heaving against hers.

A gasp of surprise escapes her, then something akin to excitement flashes in Juliet’s eyes as she gazes up at me, like she’s satisfied that she finally got me to break. She doesn’t fight against my grip on her throat or the way my body is pinning hers to the desk. Instead, she wriggles to free one of her legs, kicking it up over my hip. “Thought you couldn’t touch me?” she smirks. “Feels good to break the rules, doesn’t it?”

I can tell by the look on her face that she thinks she’s finally gotten her way- and if I was a weaker man, she would. I’d tear off that gaudy uniform shirt, drag that skirt up over her hips, and give her what she really wants. Hell, I want it, too. There’s nothing I want more than to feel her wrapped around me, to ride her body until she’s panting and writhing and screaming beneath me. To teach her a lesson in which of us is really the dominant force here.

I flex my fingers around her throat, staring into her eyes as molten silver starts to bleed into her irises. “I’m not going to touch you, Juliet,” I murmur, gripping one of her wrists with my free hand. She sucks in a breath as I shove it between our bodies, not stopping until her hand is at the apex of her spread thighs. “You’re going to touch yourself for me.”

Juliet freezes, lips parting as an unintelligible string of mumbled words leaves them. “I… but you… you want me to… right here?” She glances nervously toward the unlocked office door.

I release her wrist, pushing up to gaze down at her through narrowed eyes. This isn’t the reckless, wild, confident version of Juliet I’m used to, and the sudden shift is throwing me off. Maybe this is me finally winning and she’s going to back down. Maybe deep down, she’s more of that sweet, naïve girl who first came here than she’d like to admit.

“What, you can do it when I’m watching from the window, but not right here?” I taunt.

She glances toward the door again, an unreadable expression on her face.

She’s going to back down. I’m sure of it.

But then I feel her knuckles brush the bulge in the front of my pants as she moves her hand up between her thighs again; I scent her arousal as she shifts her panties aside. A shallow moan escapes her lips and a shiver of satisfaction runs through me as Juliet starts touching herself, doing what she’s told for once like a good fucking girl.

“Like this?” she pants, arching her back off the desk and increasing the speed of her ministrations.

Jesus fucking christ.

My dick’s so hard that it feels like it could punch through the fabric of my slacks.

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