Page 22 of Possessive Mr. Pen

I stand watch as he focuses on Hilary.He may prefer men, but the rumor mill—and my research—claim he also enjoys being a third wheel.He’s taken more than one couple in his spare time before.There’s nothing wrong with that, except for the fact Hilary is mine and I’m hers.I will not share.

Ever.

He thanks us for our time and scampers away as fast as possible.The attendant asks if we need anything, but I usher Hilary out and shut the door behind us before she can speak.

My gladiator goddess retreats behind the partition before I turn around.I twist the lock just slow enough to avoid a sound then grab a potential suit for the reception and head to my corner to strip.

Hilary’s low curse lifts my lips into a wicked curse.

She can’t unzip her dress by herself, not with the pins catching on the zipper halfway down.

After pulling the suit pants up my legs and the undershirt over my head, I step out from behind my partition without tucking in or zipping up.

Hilary bumps the wall with her elbow and hisses in pain.I step around her partition and slip my hands onto her shoulders.She freezes like prey caught in a trap.

I guide her arms to her sides before working the zipper down to the small of her back.Unable to resist, I brush my knuckles against her smooth flesh.Goosebumps rise on her arms.

She shifts her weight, but I growl.

“Be still.I’m not done yet.”

She vibrates in fury.I slip my hand inside her dress and hold the fabric together as I lower the zipper the last few inches.The warmth of her skin sinks into my hand, and I can’t resist.

I hook my finger over the zipper—holding her in place and teasing the waistband of her panties—and flatten my palm against her spine.My long digits cover most of her exposed back.I trace her ribs around her side and forget how to breathe as I caress the outer swell of her breast.

She stomps on my toes.With both of us barefoot, pain blasts through my toes and up my shin.

I curse but steal a kiss to her nape before retreating.

“If you leave before choosing your reception and after-party dresses, I won’t pay for them,” I challenge as I return to my corner.

Her silence pulses with anger.I revel in her attention, no matter how negative it may be, as I finish donning the suit.

When I step out into the main room, Hilary spares me a withering glare before turning her attention back to the shoe display.I wait until she makes her selection then scoop her off her feet and sit her on the couch.

She swats my arms away, but I lift her ankle and slip her foot into the glittery high heel before she can run away.I repeat the process with her other ankle and swallow my disappointment when she hops off the couch and puts several strides between us.

I rise and cross my arms over my chest.

With her purse on the coffee table behind me and the door locked, she won’t escape before I catch her.

Although the cat-and-mouse game would fulfill a sick and twisted animalistic side of me, I crave a deeper relationship with her.I quirk a brow and lean toward her.Despite the distance between us, she leans back.

“Dinner is over.It’s the weekend, Hilary.We’re no longer employer and employee,” I say.

“Mr.Pen, we will only ever be boss and personal assistant.Nothing else,” she quips.

Her spin in the sexy heels is impressive, but I reach out, grab her nape, and twirl her against me.She gasps and presses her fists against my sides.

“Say my name,” I demand.

“No.”She shoves.I growl and tighten my arms around her.

“My name, Hilary.”

“Let go of me,” she demands.

“Not until I get what I want,” I snarl.