Page 8 of Fake Maid

“I, um.” She darts a glance at me, chewing on her lip. Deciding how much she wants to reveal.

All of it, I will her privately. I want all of it. Every thought in her head, every secret dream, every whisper-soft inch of her skin.

“I want to be a model, actually.”

“Ah.” I laugh bitterly. “You won’t be here long.”

Her frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

I wave vaguely up and down the length of her body with my cast.

“I give it a week, max, before the whole world knows your name.”

Her cheeks flush with pleasure and she ducks her head. Not out of shyness, but to keep her reaction to herself. She’s private, then. And when she looks up again, that spark from earlier is back. The tension crackles in the air between us.

Her eyes dip to my throat. Down to my chest, sliding over my broad shoulders. Coral likes what she sees when she takes in my body. She’s shameless in her perusal, her gaze greedy as she wets her lip.

I swell harder in my jeans, and her eyes drop there, too.

Fuck.

“Do you enjoy torturing me, Miss Walsh?”

Her mouth twitches. “Am I torturing you? How?”

“By looking at me like something to eat.” I drop the mop handle with a clatter, stepping close, but she doesn’t retreat an inch. She looks up at me, pupils blown wide. “Do you want a taste, darling?” Her chest shudders under her tunic as she sucks in a breath. “Shall I push you to your pretty knees?”

My heart stops when she leans forward. Coral places a palm on my chest, rocking up onto her toes to bring her face close to mine. I’m rigid with tension, practically vibrating with the effort to hold myself back. To keep from crushing her against my chest and claiming her.

She smirks, then runs the tip of her pert nose up the side of my throat. There’s a flash of white, then she’s pulling my bottom lip between her teeth.

A groan shudders through me, and she lets me go and steps back.

“Maybe you should. Do you think you could handle it, Mr. Koven?”

Holy shit. I’ve never been so hard. And judging by the smug look on her face, she knows it too. She sashays over to the fallen mop, bending at the waist to pluck it off the tiles.

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