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But she tries to squirm from my grasp. At one point, she accidentally kicks me in the knee. I release her, and she’s about to escape, but I grab her again and pin her down on the desk with my body. Fuck this. I’m getting my phone back. I reach into her dress.
I catch movement on the periphery and look up to see Bridget standing in the doorway. She raises her brows.
Shit.
Phone in hand, I stand up.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Bridget says.
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” I say with exasperation, not at her but at Kimberly.
Kimberly does a not-so-great job of hiding her smile as she sits up. “We were just messing around,” she says. “Oh, that kind of came out wrong.”
I glare at her. “Get the hell out of my office.”
Without a word, Kimberly peels herself from the desk and saunters out, tossing her hair as she passes Bridget.
“She had my phone down her dress,” I explain.
Bridget walks toward me, her gaze penetrating mine. “I’ve heard that one before.”
I do a double-take.
“Not really,” Bridget says. “Gotcha.”
I release a sigh of relief. But I can’t tell for sure how she feels about what she saw. Does she believe nothing was going on?
Noticing my empty glass, she asks, “Have you had a lot to drink?”
“Just a glass or two. Where’s Amy?”
“Up on the balcony. She’s hoping JD shows up tonight.”
“I don’t think he will.”
“Why do you think that? Did he text or call you?”
It would be better for Amy’s sake if she knew sooner rather than later. I’d rather be getting it on with Bridget than keeping Amy company.
“Yeah, sounded like he was going to take it easy at home.” I wrap an arm around her and pull her in close. “I can send a driver to take Amy home. You make up your mind whether you’re going to go for sounding or something off your hard limits list?”
She frowns. “I can smell the alcohol on your breath. What did you drink?”
“Just two glasses of baijiu.”
“I did make my decision, but I’m not trying anything new with you tonight.”
She’s right. I’m not trashed, but I am intoxicated. Not a good state to be in for BDSM.
“I should go back to Amy,” Bridget says. “Should I send Marshall over here to protect you from Kimberly?”
“Cute,” I respond wryly. I grab her by the ass and shove her against my groin. “I’ll remember that when I’m sober and have you shackled to the floor in piledriver.”
After an initial gasp, she collects herself. “I’m game—but only if you’re sober.”
With that, she tears herself away and leaves the office.
Damn. I didn’t expect that response from her. But that third glass of baijiu I was thinking of before is no longer a consideration.
