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Grabbing his phone from beside the sparkling new keyboard, I watch closely as he unlocks the screen. It would be useful to have his password when I do get another chance to escape. But after pressing his thumbprint against a glowing circle, his thumb moves across the screen so fast I have no clue what he typed.
For all I know, it could have been ‘Meredith is bitch’ or ‘Lucifer is the bestest’.
He pulls up an app that looks like one of those radar maps that shows thunderstorms in the area and slides a button from ‘armed’ to ‘disarmed’.
Jesus. He locked a fucking weapon around me. No wonder the thing was so damn heavy.
With a click, he unsnaps the bracelet, and I find myself holding my breath as he works it gently off my wrist.
Once the weight of the metal is completely gone and the bracelet is tucked inside the top drawer of the desk, I finally relax.
I give a little tug on my hand, expecting him to release me, but he tugs back, pulling me closer. My thighs bump into the side of his chair and I nearly fall over it.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, his thumb stroking against the sensitive inner skin of my wrist as I straighten and get my balance back.
I shake my head, fighting to keep my toes from curling into the floor. The way he’s stroking me makes me want to arch my back and purr like a cat.
It’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. Without my hate, I’m entirely too aware of my body’s responses to him.
“Are you sure? It’s past the time you usually eat lunch.”
My stomach flutters, but it’s not because of hunger. I don’t want to eat. I just want to get away from him before I do something stupid. Like act on a physical impulse.
“No. I’m not hungry, Simon.” I frown and try to ease my hand out of his grip.
His fingers clamp down on me, not letting go. “Fine, then you can keep me company while I finish my work.”
He gives a hard tug on my arm and forces me to stumble into his lap before I know what the fuck is happening.
I immediately try to pull away, but his arm wraps around my midsection and locks around me just as tightly as that bracelet.
“I rather not,” I protest and squirm.
“This will only take a few minutes,” he says, ignoring my struggles as he rotates his chair back towards the desk and grabs his mouse. He starts to click around.
I don’t know what’s more infuriating, that he can keep me trapped so easily with one arm or that he’s focusing on his work.
Pushing my feet into the floor, I try one last time to stand up and free myself from his grip.
His next words stop me cold. “If you continue to squirm like that, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”
I immediately freeze in place.
“That’s better,” he coos and his arm tightens around me once more, pulling me down until my ass is completely on his lap.
Once he has me settled exactly as he wants me, he resumes his clicking. His arm sliding against my arm as he moves the mouse around on the desk.
So much for slipping away without another incident. Fuck.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. Exactly what I was trying to avoid. Him forcing proximity again. His space invading my space.
His simple fucking presence messing with my head.
And I don’t have anything to protect me now. He’s stripped me bare. He ripped away every preconceived notion I had about him. Every opinion I had and used to justify my actions is gone. Burned to ash by the flames of his want.
After last night’s revelations, all I have is a taste of the truth and a bunch of confusing emotions. My resistance is hanging on only by a thread. A thread that’s so stretched, so taut, that it could snap at any moment.
Shaking my head, I give up. What’s the fucking point? He’s the one in control here and apparently he can do whatever the fuck he wants.
I begin to relax against him and his hold around my midsection loosens. I turn my attention to the screens and try my best to ignore the way my body seems to fit perfectly against his body.
All our bits and pieces fit together as if they were always meant to be connected.
His heat is at my back, warming my spine, and his strong thighs are pressing into my ass. Even seated as we are, he’s more than a head taller than me. His breath puffs against my crown, tickling my hair and threatening to drive me to distraction.
The screen directly in front of us changes, flashing to a desktop then to a surveillance feed. Simon clicks the mouse a couple of times and the picture zooms in on the men roaming the perimeter of his house.
