Page 46 of Possessive Mr. Pen

“I’m the only one you need to trust, my warrior queen.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.Get out of my space,” I demand.

He studies my expression, grinds his teeth, and moves away.

The vice around my chest loosens while my sex throbs in disappointment.My phone blares the obnoxious sound I programmed for missed alarm alerts.I turn it off and slip it into my pocket.

“Fine, my sisters and I will move in, but not until we make our engagement public knowledge,” I relent.

As I turn toward the exit, he blocks me with his body.The apron still hugs his chest.Worry flits through me as I remember his bandages.I should have offered to change them this morning.

He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts my face to his.I forget how to breathe as terror and hunger rip through me.He caresses my jawline before cupping my hand in both of his.

“Noted.Cancel our lunch plans.I’ll see you at the office,” he says.

He walks away.I glance down and sigh.

His car keys sit on my palm.

He may be an asshole, but sometimes he’s a chivalrous asshole, which is a mindfuck all on its own.

I don’t know how to process the events of yesterday and this morning without a mental breakdown, so I cram it into a box for later as I grab my purse from the guest room and head to the car.

I signed a contract marriage with my boss yesterday, had a mutual masturbation session with my one-night stand this morning, and agreed to move in with the one person who can tear my heart to pieces without even trying.

And it’s all the same asshole.

Connor Pen.

I’m not sure life can get any crueler, but this is the path I chose.There’s no going back now.

I’m marrying Connor Pen, my boss and the man I’ve lusted after for eight years.

Chapter 12

Connor Pen

My normal reprieve—drowning myself in work—is pure torture with fresh memories of Hilary’s passion in my thoughts, but I keep my hands to myself and focus on the task in front of me.Despite the stress of the morning, Hilary tackles each issue as it rises, the jumbled mess of incomplete tasks from her time off slowly unraveling by her expertise.

By the time lunch rolls around, my skin itches and need creates a steady pulsing in my balls, but I lead my warrior queen out of the office as though she isn’t the one in charge and slip my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from reaching for her in the elevator.

I lose my patience in the car and demand her hand over the center console.She aims reproachful eyes at me.I quirk a brow.

“We’re not a real couple,” she deflects.

“We’re not leaving until you take my hand,” I challenge.

She lifts a brow in a feminine version of mine.

“Where are we going?”she asks.

“To buy rings.”

I smirk in delight as surprise flashes across her face.She buries her emotions and takes my hand with angry reluctance.

“You still haven’t told me the plan or even how our marriage is part of it.How am I supposed to act in public as your fiancée?”

I lift her knuckles to my lips and sneak my tongue between her fingers before responding.