The Wrong Wife (Morally Grey Billionaires #5)(62)

"You can’t."

She stares. "What do you mean?"

I click my tongue. "You didn’t read the fine print on your employee contract, I take it."

She pales a little. "It was, uh, a standard employee thingy. The HR woman gave it to me and—"

"—you signed on the dotted line like a little lamb. Ergo"—I raise a finger—"you’re trapped."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"You’re my employee until I decide otherwise."

She scoffs. "That’s stupid. I have a choice in this."

"Do you?"

"I’m quitting your job, and I’m going to take a loan and pay back what I owe you for covering my mother’s bills at the home."

I rub my nails down the front of my shirt. "Nope."

"What do you mean, nope?"

"Just that. It’s too late to fly away. You’re well and truly caged."

"No, I’m not."

I yawn.

It has the intended effect, for splotches of color pop on her cheeks. She manages to free her arms from under my jacket and begins to unbutton it from around her shoulder.

"Don’t you dare," I warn.

She huffs. "What’re you gonna do, huh?"

"Don’t test me, Penny."

She makes a rude noise. Then shoves the jacket off her shoulders. It begins to slide off, when I close the distance to her, then pick her up, along with the jacket, and throw them both over my shoulder.

She freezes then yells, "Let me go, you neanderthal."





34





Penny





He chuckles. The bastard chuckles like it’s all a big joke. I bring my fists down on his back, but he doesn’t feel it. He turns and strides up the garden path. My cheeks flush. I wriggle and swear, then yell out because he’s spanked my ass. "Let go of me, you oaf. You uncouth knucklehead. You dumb block of—"

He clicks his tongue. "I’d be very careful what you say next."

I draw in a breath. My heart begins to race. He sounds like he’s nearing the end of his patience. Well, so am I. If he thinks he can handle me like I’m his fuck toy, he has another think coming.

But would it be so bad if he did treat me like his fuck toy? No, no, no. Stop that line of thought. Have you no pride? When it comes to this alphahole, apparently not. Aargh!

I cannot stay here without putting up a token resistance, at least. I can’t accept that he’s going to drag me off to his cave and have his way with me and—my pussy clenches. I squeeze my thighs together. He has his arm banded below my hips, so of course he feels it.

"You turned on, Little Dove?" he asks in a voice that has a hard edge but also a certain confidence inherent in it that is so, so arousing.

I swallow down the small moan that rises up my throat and scoff, "Of course not."

He laughs. And the sound is dark and deep and promises all kinds of evil things that he plans to do with me, and this time, a jolt runs up my spine. Goddamn this man for the effect he has on me. It’s almost as if our every encounter has been planned so I can’t win. Not only is he in a position of power over me, but he holds all the cards. And that’s so unfair. And what are you going to do about it, hmm?

I begin to writhe in earnest, and that’s when he comes to a stop. Before I can get another word out, he lowers me by my hips so I’m at eye level with him, feet dangling in midair like I’m a child. But he locks his mouth over mine and kisses me with such intensity, it’s clear he sees me as anything but. I part my lips, and he sucks on my tongue as if he wants to draw my very essence into him.

My head spins, my breasts hurt, and my knees turn to jelly. I wrap my arms about his shoulders and my legs around his lean waist and hold on as he continues to drink from me and share my breath, until I’m sure I’m going to explode into a million little pieces, each of which is going to scream one thing. "Fuck me, Sir. Please."

He must hear my silent plea, for he tears his mouth from mine. His chest heaves. Color smears his cheeks. Gold and silver sparks flash in his eyes. There’s an expression on his face I’ve never seen before—one of helplessness and anger and need, and so much need that I lean in closer and rub my nose against his. He jerks, then wraps one thick arm around my butt to fit me more firmly over the thick column at his crotch. I swallow and gaze up into his face. He presses a hard kiss to my lips, then begins to walk. He skirts the room where his friends and mine are—thank god. I’m not sure how I would have lived it down if he’d carried me through their midst. On the other hand, I probably wouldn’t have cared. I bury my nose in the hollow at the base of his throat and keep it there as he carries me out to the car.

There’s a woof, then I sense Tiny prancing about us. There’s a low rumble of voices—Rudy’s, who took Tiny for a walk earlier. Then Sir lowers me into the backseat of the vehicle. I scoot over, and he slides in next to me. Instantly, I straddle him. He wraps his arm about me and moves further inside. Tiny bounds in and occupies most of the seat.

"Ah, sorry, Knight." Rudy reaches for Tiny’s leash to coax him into the cargo area, but Knight shakes his head.

"It’s fine."