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She expects me to believe she’s untouched?
Is she acting? Am I being pulled into a lie and made a victim?
Maybe she’s my downfall. A perfect weapon sent by the enemy.
Even knowing that is a possibility, I’m not sure I can resist.
“I’m waiting, Kaylee.” My hand has been coasting up her thigh and my fingertips reach her panties now, my index finger slipping between her unsettlingly-soft pussy and the cotton crotch, tugging, then pressing back in, knuckle to her slit, rubbing, twisting, making her gasp. “What qualities in a man are important in your world?”
“Umm.” Her lashes flutter, neck flushing. “Honesty. Compassion. Humor.”
“I’m none of those things,” I rasp against her mouth—just as her flesh blooms open, allowing me to knuckle gently deeper and tease her clit.
Her grip flies to the arm of the couch, back arching on a rocky intake of breath. “Guess you’re out of the running then.”
“Your wet pussy says I’m not just in the running, I’m in first place.”
“Mr. Borden—”
I don’t know why her formal use of my name sets me off, but it does. I like it because a sick part of me looks forward to her obedience in bed. I hate it, too, because I want to be Matthew to her. Before I can reconcile my own intentions, I move in a blur of speed, turning her to face me and flattening her backwards onto the couch, crowding her legs open with my hips. “Matthew,” I say, my mouth against her ear. “I just knuckled open your little pussy. You call me Matthew now.”
“Matthew,” she whimpers.
It’s as though some of the stone caked to my heart erodes, falling away. I drop down onto her inviting curves, her soft, feminine body, and I ransack her mouth with mine. It’s just supposed to be a kiss. A means of arousal—for her. But the moment she opens her mouth, allowing my tongue in to play, my cock stiffens in pure pain. My thoughts grow hazy, all except for one. More. More, more, more of this perfection. Her velvet-smooth lips and the innocence of her tongue treating mine to testing strokes. The way her body seems to bloom beneath me, come to life, arching and twisting and panting.
I’m losing it. I’m losing myself in her.
Get your head straight.
I need to remember why she’s here. Remember my objective.
“Sarah…” I say hoarsely, dragging my tongue up the curve of her throat and nipping that full bottom lip, her pussy heating against the fly of my trousers. God, I want to call her Kaylee, but maybe referring to her fake identity is for the best. It’s a good reminder that she’s here to dupe me, fuck me over. Unfortunately for her and McGraw-Hale, I never lose. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh…” She blinks several times, as if trying to emerge from a haze and I struggle not to find that adorable. Sweet. Goddammit, she’s so beautiful. “You do?”
Those eyes. What was I saying?
Right. A proposition.
“I’ll hire you as my temp, but the job is this. You’ll spend the day in my office and…”
Her earnest expression almost causes me to falter. “And?”
“I’ll have full use of your body. All day. When I need it.” I grind down on her sex, thrusting her up the couch, watching her thighs jerk around me reflexively. Pure magic. “You’ll clock in at nine am and spend the day as my plaything.”
Her expression goes from euphoric to hurt in the blink of an eye. Really hurt.
It’s not manufactured—and suddenly I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Loudly. My throat dries up and attempts to close. “I’m sorry,” I breathe.
She slaps me across the face.
Struggles to get out from beneath me, but I can’t let that happen or she’ll be gone and I’ll never be able to fix this. What am I fixing exactly? I have no idea. This girl is supposed to be my enemy in disguise, but none of that seems to be relevant in the face of her hurt feelings.
I pin her wrists on either side of her head, using my lower body to keep her from moving. “I’m sorry,” I say again. Those words sound totally foreign on my lips. Have I ever apologized to anyone in my entire life? “I’m sorry.”
“Get off me.”
My stomach twists violently. “No.”
She tries to buck me off. “You just offered to pay me to be your in-house hook up. I want to leave. I never want to look at you again.”
Panic claws at my back.
Fix it. Fix it now.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper against her plush mouth, then lower at her throat where her pulse races out of control. I’m pushing up her skirt. Dragging my open mouth down the front of her heaving body, toward her cunt. It’s my single-minded destination. I can repair this. I can give her pleasure and forsake my own. I can lick her off until she forgets my proposition. Never mind that she was supposed to say yes. That my plan was to make her my whore and rub her father’s face in it. Never mind that. My chest is ready to explode and I can’t think about plans and strategies. Who gives a fuck about those things when her eyes are clouded over with pain?
