I half-heartedly try to wiggle. “What if someone walks in?”
“Then they’ll see the boss with his wife. And they’ll leave.”
His phone rings. He glances at it, then at me. “I have to take this.”
“So let me up.”
“No.” He picks up the phone with one hand, the other tightening on my hip. “Maksimov.”
His tone shifts into the harder, colder voice I heard in the alley that first night. And just like that, I’m sitting in the lap of a Bratva Pakhan while he conducts business.
His hand absently strokes my thigh while he talks, like touching me is as natural as breathing, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
I’m sitting on the lap of a man discussing things that could send us both to jail, and all I can think is how good he smells and how amazing his hands feel on me.
Zara Maksimov. Formerly broke. Currently insane.
The call only lasts a couple of minutes, and when he hangs up, Nikolai’s eyes come back to me.
He smirks, leaning to nuzzle my neck again. “Where were we?”
I smile, melting into his embrace, hooking an arm around his neck. “You were holding me hostage in your office chair.”
“Right,” he breathes into my skin, making me shiver. His hand slides from my thigh up to my hip, his thumb tracing circles on my skin through the silk. “I like you here.”
“In your office?” I pant.
“In my office. In my lap. In my world.” His stubble deliciously scrapes my skin. His mouth finds the spot below my ear that makes me melt, and I feel his cock hardening under me.
His hand slides under my blouse, his warm palm against my bare stomach, his fingers spread wide over where our baby is growing. He holds me there for a beat. Then his hand moves higher, cupping my breast through my bra, his thumb brushing my nipple until it hardens under the silk.
“Nik, your entire staff is on the other side of the door,” I pant.
He rasps against my skin, “The door is locked.”
“You planned this,” I accuse, unable to stop my hips from rolling up and down his long, hard shaft.
“Baby, I plan everything.” He kisses my neck, open-mouthed and hot, and I feel his teeth graze my skin. “Why do you think I brought you here?”
“Because you’re a control freak who can’t let me out of his sight for eight hours?”
He huffs out a short laugh. “That too.” His fingers find my nipple and roll it. “But mostly because I wanted to fuck my wife in my office, on my desk, while my staff pretends they can’t hear her scream.”
Oh My God.
I try to push up. “Nik, we can’t…” He holds me tighter. “Baby, people will hear.”
Completely ignoring my protests, he pulls my blouse off one shoulder and presses his mouth to my bare skin. My pussy clenches, my face burning, and my thighs part on his lap before my brain gives them permission.
“That’s my girl.”
He lifts me off his lap and sets me on the edge of the desk. Papers scatter. I hear something fall. Nik doesn’t care. He’s between my legs, his hands pushing my thighs apart, his darkeyes locked on mine with that look that makes me feel like prey and treasure at the same time.
“Baby,” I whisper.
“Shh.” He drops to his knees in front of me. “Boss is busy.”
Then his mouth is on me and I forget where I am, who’s outside this room, what my damn name is, anything that isn’t the man between my thighs worshipping my body.
