I usually use the time to get ready for the day. To make a mental inventory. To prepare for the battles. To orchestrate the social life this machine needs.
Today, I’m not here for work, though.
If Liam Stone thinks he can toy with me and not bear the consequences, he’s mistaken.
I believe you were reaching for this.
God help me, I enjoy his skilled hands, tongue, and that impressive cock a bit too much.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me, because sex has never been this important. But I can’t help it now.
It’s like with Romeo, I rediscovered my sexuality, and the feeling is potent. Empowering. Inconveniently essential.
I wish my sexual partner wasn’t my professional nightmare.
I tighten the belt on my overcoat as I walk past my door toward Liam’s office.
Payback time.
“What are you smiling about?” Corm’s voice spikes my heart rate, and I stumble.
My stiletto catches on the carpet. The momentum propels me forward faster than my reflexes.
My boss catches me.
Fuck.
I jerk away like a skittish cat and quickly adjust my coat. I hope he didn’t see what I have—or rather don’t have—underneath.
“You startled me,” I admonish. “What are you doing here this early?”
I look up and meet his puzzled frown. Okay, he did get an eyeful of… something.
“I’m leaving for Chicago, and I forgot a file here.” He studies me with a scrutiny that makes me want to squirm. Idon’tsquirm in front of him.
“I could have had it delivered to you.” I fasten the belt more, hoping to establish some semblance of propriety. I’m almost certain I flashed him.
“I have a chopper picking me up here.” He beckons with his head toward the ceiling. Merged has a heliport on the roof. “I didn’t want to wake Saar.”
And yes, Cormac Quinn has a heliport on the roof of his house as well.
“I see…” I peter out, unsure what to say or do.
He caught me. He caught me wearing a coat and not much more in the office. I could explain that as another fashion extravagance.
The bigger problem is that I was heading awayfrom my office. And I’m flustered. Goddammit. Idon’tget jumpy.
“Enjoy Chicago.” I tip my chin up and head to my office, hoping?—
“You were walking the other way,” he drawls.
There goes my hope that he wouldn’t notice. “I can do that later.”
“Do what later?”
Fuck. I turn, jutting out my hip and planting my hand on it. Inner-turmoil-outer-confidence is a skill I mastered since I was a little girl. A survival skill.
“Don’t you have a helicopter to catch?”
