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I’m taken by surprise when the tables turn and it’s no longer me holding Becker, but him holding me. He moves fast, whirling me around and pushing my front to the door. I gasp, my chest splatting against the heavily carved wood, some protruding parts pressing into the soft curves of my tummy.
‘Shhhh.’ His husky tone penetrates my hearing and his hips lock my lower body in place. He’s aroused. Hard. Sharp. A quick hand grabs the hem of my dress and yanks it up to my waist. I cry out, caught in a confusing mix of guardedness and uncontrollable want. My cheek is squished on the wood, my hands either side of my head, and the quiet instruction in my mind that’s telling me to fight him is being ignored. One finger traces the crease of my arse over my knickers, teasing, stroking, driving me crazy.
The soft bristle on his cheek rubs against mine, and my eyes close, feeling his hot breath spread across my face. ‘Hmmmm,’ he hums, turning his mouth onto my skin and licking a long, wet trail up to my temple.
My muscles lock down, tensing, my knotted mind taking pleasure from the anticipation of his touch. I’m flooded between my thighs, wet and begging, and it’s all beyond my control. ‘Is this your way of marking your territory?’ I ask my darkness.
‘Shut the fuck up, Eleanor,’ he warns, taking the top of my knickers and shoving them down to my thighs. A few blissful moments are spent caressing my still tender skin before he slips his hand between my legs and finds my condition. ‘You want me, baby?’
I groan, fighting the urge to scream my desperation.
‘You want me to plunge deep and hard?’
My hands ball into frustrated fists, ready to pound the wood. The small collection of nerves in the tip of my clitoris are twitching, vibrating, screaming for contact.
‘Or do you want me to lick you here?’ He sinks two fingers into me and puts weight behind his drive, holding himself deep. My legs begin to wobble, and just when I’m about to defy his insistence on keeping quiet so I can bellow my desire, he pulls free of me harshly and slaps me clean across my arse. I jerk forward, making the huge door rattle on its hinges. ‘Mine,’ he growls, beginning to rub some life back into my burning flesh. ‘If everyone remembers that, then no one will get hurt.’ He pushes his lips to my temple and breathes through his kiss, caging me in from behind as he pulls my knickers into place and my dress back down. I’m dazed, still turned on, and absolutely staggered. There’s a huge part of me that’s thrilled he’s staked such a violent claim, but I can’t ignore the tiny piece of me that’s worried. His promise, and I have no doubt that it’s a promise, isn’t referring to him or me getting hurt. He isn’t speaking of emotional damage to either one of us. He’s talking about physical hurt. I need to avoid Brent Wilson at all costs.
I allow him to turn me in his arms until I’m facing him, my eyes rooted on the knot of his tie. I’m worried about what I might see if I look into his angel eyes, but I’m given little option when my chin is tipped up to meet his face. ‘I love you,’ he says clearly, softly, a million miles away from the threat of his voice a minute ago.
I laugh. I can’t help it. And God love him, he frowns at my reaction to his swinging mood.
‘Have I said something funny?’ he asks, stepping back, injured.
The tips of my fingers meet my forehead and press into my skin. ‘No.’ I shake my head, thinking better than to try and explain. He’s a total novice at affection.
‘Then why are you laughing?’
‘You’re behaving like a Neanderthal.’
His cute head cocks when I glance at him. ‘Explain.’
‘Possessive. Are you going to spank me every time you feel under threat?’
‘I’m not under threat.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ He snubs my claim and puts his hands on my hips, hunkering down to get his eyes level with mine. ‘Because you love me.’ He grins, and I mirror it. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you love me spanking you, don’t you?’
‘I’d love it more if you made me come when you spank me.’
His grin stretches, spanning his entire handsome face. ‘You didn’t answer my text within five minutes.’
I gape at him, outraged. ‘You can’t punish me in our private life for something I do in our professional life.’
‘I can,’ he counters, reaching past me and pulling open the door. ‘We’ll call it a job incentive.’
I’m speechless as he ushers me from the library. Taking my hand, he walks us down the corridor leisurely, peeking down at me with that adorable grin. ‘I’m loving the new dynamics of our working relationship.’
