Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I think, maybe, this is what it means to be at war with your own fucking heart. And for once, I don’t care if I lose.
CHAPTER 5
NATALIE
Monday morning, and the air at McDaid Security is thick with disinfectant and denial. My phone dings three times before I even hit the lobby. The first is a calendar reminder, the second is a threat from our IT contractor, and the third is a terse all-caps text from the man himself.
The Boss
COME STRAIGHT TO MY OFFICE.
It’s seven o’ two, and I’m already at my desk, hair brushed so smooth you could ice skate on it. I’ve worn my most boring blouse and buttoned it so high it might double as a nun’s collar. I’m also wearing new lipstick. It’s a shade called “neutral assertion,” which is total bullshit, because every time I catch my reflection, I remember Friday and my knees get wobbly.
There’s a flicker of motion in my periphery, a shadow that moves with military precision. He’s across the atrium, already scanning the lobby. He wears a black suit like it’s body armor, his gait as loose and predatory as a wolf in a tie. His beard is trimmed shorter than last week, but the scar on his knuckle is the same. It flexes when he clenches his fist, which he does as soon as he spots me.
I pretend not to notice, but I do. I notice everything. He keeps walking, not a word, but as he passes my desk, I hear the low, vibrating growl of his voice: “My office, ten.” Then he’s gone, trailing the sharp scent of his aftershave and pure command.
I check my pulse and find it beating at one-thirty, which is normal for me any time Declan McDaid is around.
Nine minutes and thirty short seconds later, I’m standing outside his door, my heart pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. My hand hovers over the wood, trembling embarrassingly.
I knock, and his deep, commanding voice slices through the air. “Come in.”
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open to find him sitting behind his desk like the king of the corporate jungle. His suit is immaculate, tailored to hug every inch of his broad shoulders and chest.
“Hi,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I wonder if I just dreamed what happened Friday. God, I hope not. My pussy is already throbbing, slick with anticipation, and I haven’t even taken a full step into the room.
He stands up, and fuck me sideways, he’s so damn tall. His hands go to his tie, and he starts pulling at it, his eyes locked on mine like a predator sizing up its prey. My breath hitches, and I can feel my nipples hardening under my blouse, begging for his touch.
“Close the door,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. I obey, my fingers fumbling with the handle before I finally manage to shut it. The click of the lock echoes in the room, and I swear I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears.
He steps around the desk, and I can see the bulge in his pants, straining against the fabric like it’s trying to break free. My mouth waters as I remember what’s hiding in there. His cock is so thick, hard, and ready to ruin me in the best way possible.
“We’re not going to pretend Friday didn’t happen,” he growls, sending shivers down my spine. He prowls over to me and stands so close I can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something darker, more primal.
“No,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “We’re not.”
His hand reaches out, and I sigh as his fingers brush against my cheek. They’re warm, calloused, and they send a jolt of electricity straight to my clit. He tilts my chin up, forcing me to look into his dark and hungry eyes. What I see shining from his gaze causes my knees to go weak.
“Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, almost cruel kiss. As his tongue slides into my mouth like he owns it, I grip his shoulders for dear life. Damn. My heart squeezes in a funny way that’s terrifying. Having hot, monkey sex with my boss is one thing, but actually falling for him is something else.
His hands move all over my body, starting at my waist and moving to my ass then my tits, and I can’t think straight. He pulls my blouse open with a force that makes me gasp. Buttons scatter across the floor, and I don’t give a damn because his mouth moves to my neck, sucking and biting in a way that’s going to leave marks I’ll have to explain later.
“Please,” I whimper as his hands find my bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. My tits spill out, and he groans, his mouth latching onto one nipple while his fingers pinch and twist the other. The pain is sharp, delicious, and it makes me arch into him. I should be embarrassed that my pussy is so wet I can feel it soaking through my panties, but my brain isn’t firing.