Page 64 of Corrupted


Font Size:  

Still pressing the wad to his neck, he looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m a big boy. I can take it from here.’

She shook her head, sending those luxurious locks brushing against her shoulders and—fuck—across her breasts. ‘You really should let me have a look. I’m a qualified first-aider.’ She glanced towards the door, then back at him. Her eyes went wide. ‘Are you the manager, or something?’

‘Or something,’ he said, acknowledging that her cagey look was likely due to concern that she’d be charged with bodily harm. ‘Look, it’s okay. No harm done. I’m not about to press charges.’

Still, she hesitated, looking from him to the door and back again before moving right past him and into his office.

Connor closed the door, watching as she took a cursory look around before heading over to the three-tiered filing cabinet in the corner. ‘Is this where you keep the first-aid kit?’

Damned if he knew. ‘Probably.’ He walked over, unlocked the cabinet and, as he knew the first two drawers were jam-packed with business files, slid open the bottom one. His efficient assistant had placed a green box at the back of the drawer, clearly marked with the universal symbol for first-aid supplies.

Before he could reach for it, the woman bent down and grabbed it from the drawer. ‘Sit,’ she instructed, crossing to the desk and sliding out his black leather chair. ‘Let me take a closer look.’

Conn

or frowned. He should tell her to get the hell out of his office, remind her that he could deal with his own bloody cut, and if he wanted to sit in his damned chair he would—he didn’t need a pushy siren giving him instructions. Instead, he found himself walking to the chair and sitting like a well-trained canine. His only excuse was that the sooner he let her do her nursing stint, the sooner she would be gone. At least, that was what he told himself.

She reached out to remove the bloodied wad at the same moment he did. Their fingers brushed, hands touching. Okay, nothing wrong with a little spark of chemistry, a zing of sexual awareness. Some very definite fire in the blood, and below the waist.

The subtle snatch of her breath as they touched, the way her heated gaze held his a moment too long before dropping to his mouth, confirmed she wasn’t immune to that zing. One glance at her grey top confirmed his theory. Those nipples he’d imagined licking to peak were already reflecting the very outcome he’d visualised.

Maybe he was being too hasty in his desire to be rid of her. For the past several weeks, he’d been on a rollercoaster, his attention tightly focused on a driving need to buy the Cabacal and lay to rest old ghosts. He couldn’t blame his body for starting to retaliate against having its physical needs denied for too long.

From her table-dance earlier, she was definitely a party girl, probably up for some fun, and the way she was sending his hormones on this happy journey signalled she was exactly the kind of woman to break his no-sex streak. Fun-loving, easy-going, obviously in touch with her own sexuality. Add this definite mutual attraction to the mix and it boded well for a little private party of their own.

She tossed the tissue into the waste bin, then she placed her hands on her knees and bent to peer at the wound with an intensity reserved for someone inspecting a new kind of species.

When she reached for the first-aid box she’d placed on the desk, Connor couldn’t resist a quick glance down her top.

Nice, he thought, as his extremely interested cock responded with appropriate pleasure. He averted his gaze as she turned back. Instinct had him folding his hands in his lap in a bid to hide the evidence, but he was too late. Her eyes dropped to his hands before she returned her attention to his neck. ‘You don’t have to hide that,’ she teased, dabbing the cut with a cotton ball. ‘Was my dance responsible? Or just the fact I’m wearing a low-cut top?’

He liked her directness. Liked that she didn’t seem at all interested in playing games, or pretending there wasn’t a massive flood of pheromones renting the air between them. Appearances could be deceptive, of course, but it was refreshing to find a woman who seemed straightforward and down-to-earth.

Her directness warranted some of his own. ‘It started with the dance, then you bent over the filing cabinet and then you bent over me. What’s a man to do?’

She smiled, still dabbing. ‘Can’t blame you, I suppose. Men are such basic creatures.’

‘Come on.’ He winced as she touched a sore spot. ‘You’re not telling me your intention wasn’t to get the men out there fired up?’

Not a hint of insult showed on her face, feigned or otherwise, nor in her actions. He liked that too. ‘Why should it always be a woman’s intention to turn on a man? Can’t she simply enjoy moving her body for her own pleasure?’

‘Fair enough, but why choose a crowded club to do it?’ He waited until she looked at him. ‘Or do you always like an audience when you give yourself pleasure?’

Tiny spears of colour bloomed in her cheeks, and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He enjoyed watching that spectacular mouth, maybe even more than the fact he’d managed to set her back a step.

His enjoyment was short-lived when she reached out to the box again. ‘If you’re trying to shock me, you’ll have to do much better than that.’ She undid the cap of a bottle with blue liquid and poured some onto a fresh cotton ball.

He grinned. ‘You didn’t actually answer my question.’

With a sexy pout that had his erection throbbing beneath his hands, she held the now doused cotton ball aloft and considered. ‘Do I like an audience when I give myself pleasure? Hmm. Well, to be honest I usually do that in private. For my eyes only.’

She jerked down the collar of his open-necked shirt, smiled sweetly at him then stabbed him with the fire of hell. He shot back in his seat and grimaced. ‘Whatever kind of bloody healing balm is that?’

All innocence and patience, she continued to administer to his neck, earning from him several more sharp intakes of breath as she worked. ‘Men are such babies. And here I was thinking you were a grown man.’

‘I’m man enough, sweetheart, with all the parts to prove it.’ Suddenly irritated, both by the sting from that bloody liquid and the image of her pleasuring herself without him being there to see it, he reached up and curled his fingers around her wrist. ‘I reckon I’m cleaned up well enough by now.’

She glanced down at his hand before bringing her gaze back to his. ‘Are you allergic to plasters?’

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like