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“That’s why he’s fired,” Fynn says, his eyes roaming down my body. My breasts are barely covered by a little white bikini and I’m in the skimpiest bottom I own. My ass is practically hanging out, which he can’t see right now, but he’s looking at my hips like he’s salivating. “You’re parading yourself around in that tiny little bikini, tempting every man in this house.”

“I was covered. I planned on being in here alone, you dick.” Which is true—I didn’t think I’d run into anyone and just wanted a relaxing hour to myself.

“Don’t pretend, princess, I can smell your bullshit. That thing was practically see-through.” He’s not wrong—the cover-up was white and extremely thin. But still, I’m not some child, and I’m not in his family. He doesn’t get to tell me what I can and can’t wear.

“I work for you, but I don’t obey you,” I say quietly, staring into his handsome dark blue eyes like fresh mountain water after a long winter snow. “You can be a bastard and a bossy prick all you want, but you still don’t own me.”

“Sit down.” He spills more water on the rocks.

It’s hot now. He must be sweating in that tight white dress shirt and his dress slacks. He’s not wearing a tie, and he slowly rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, staring at me as he does it, revealing inch after inch of muscular forearm knotted with inky black tattoos.

He’s looking at me like he’s making up his mind. Like he’s thinking about doing something.

Something that scares me.

My heart starts racing. I slowly sink onto the bench and lean back on my hands, shoulders moving up. His eyes drop to my breasts, and I know what he’s seeing—my chest pressed together as I tilt my head to the side. What am I doing right now? Trying to tempt him? And maybe I am. Maybe the heat of the sauna is making me go insane, but his protectiveness, his dominant, controlling attitude, it’s the most annoying, asinine, insane thing, and yet I find myself craving his rough hands. I like the way he talks to me like he can’t help but control and possess me, and he stares at my skin like he’s barely able to hold himself back from ravishing me. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

The way he pulls me around. The way he rips off my clothes.

God, he’s a fucking monster.

And for some reason, my stupid brain goes haywire whenever he’s around.

“Understand something, Mirella. Yes, you work for me. Yes, we have a professional relationship. But you’re in my house working on my body, and I’m not the kind of man that goes easy on people that see me at my most vulnerable.”

“That’s what this is about? You want to prove you’re strong by dragging me around?”

“No, Mirella. I want to prove that you want me.” He stands above me, staring down—before dropping to his knees.

I gasp in a sharp breath as he puts his hands on my thighs.

I release a little whimper as his fingers dig into my skin. His touch is like honey, like heaven, sweet and painful in the same instant. I’m so crazy vulnerable right now, sweat rolling down my flesh, barely any fabric covering my breasts and pussy, and I’m breathing like I’m in the middle of a marathon. My mind’s a sudden blank as he looks into my eyes and I stare right back, wondering at how big he is, how strong he is, despite the injuries. He must be in massive pain right now, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He strokes his fingers along my skin and it sends sparks and tingles along my spine. My mouth opens and I can’t control it. Why can’t I stop this right now? He just went nuts on an innocent kid for doing nothing but looking at me—and yet I’m letting him stroke my legs.

I’m letting him kneel between my knees.

Sweat drips down my back. Sweat drips down between my breasts. He watches it roll and leans forward—

And licks it off.

Chapter 8

Mirella

Oh my god. Oh my god!

It feels incredible. His tongue moves along the tops of my breasts as he licks my skin and kisses me, up along my chest to my collarbone.

He licks more sweat, sucking it from me. I moan and whimper. I try to pull his hair and make him stop but he grabs my wrists and pins them down at my sides. He licks more sweat from my throat, my collarbone, my belly button. He laps me up like he wants to taste every inch. He takes one end of the fabric covering my right breast in his teeth and pulls it aside before tonguing my nipple. I’m moaning now and it’s insane, but I can’t help it. He licks the sweat from my nipple and moves up after covering me again. He bites my shoulder hard and I whimper, god, I whimper. What is wrong with me right now? Why do I like this! And his lips move up along my throat as his hands slide up my thighs.

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