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"Hold on." I raise my hands. "Who said anything about keeping me in line?”
"If I were to become your Communications Manager—and I mean,if—you’d need to follow the ground rules I lay down." Abby draws herself up to her full height.
"I make the rules, doll, I don’t follow them."
"Also, I have a name. You’d do well to call me by that," she says primly.
"I’ll be the person paying you. Do I need to remind you of that?"
"And I’m the person who’ll be managing your public-facing profile, so remember, I have the power to also cast you in a bad light."
I stare at her, then bark out a laugh. "Touché, Sparrow. Apparently, you have claws."
She glances at her nails then rubs them on her sleeve. "They’re sharp and lethal and can cause enough damage that you’ll wear the scars for a lifetime."
Don’t I know it.The thought of her marking me sends a ripple of heat racing through my veins.
I walk around the bed, then hold out my hand to her. "I know you need to give your boss notice.” I nod toward Zara, then turn to her, “How soon can you start?”
25
Abby
“I never said I’m taking the job." I glance out the window, mainly, so I don’t have to look at the face of the man next to me. The man who drives the car like he’s in complete control, yet with that deceptively relaxed feel of a person who’s supremely confident things will go his way. Like he assumed I was taking the role he offered me.
"Never," I say with more force.
"You trying to convince yourself, or me?" He smirks.
"I’m simply trying to get it through your thick skull that I haven’t decided what to do about your proposition."
Like shoving it up that hard-as-buns-of-steel-arse of yours, is what I want to say, but I don’t dare. Despite the passing of months, I still remember the feel of his heavy palm on my arse. The crack of fire that streaked up my back when he first spanked me. I clench my thighs to tamp down the embers that fan to life in my core at the recollection.Why is it, he seems even more sexy than when I last saw him?The time apart has only honed his muscles further. He was already big when he left, but now… Now, he’s positively a giant.
A very sculpted giant with biceps that strain the sleeves of his T-shirt. A giant whose thighs are broader and more muscle-bound than I remember. A giant whose mammoth fingers are wrapped about the steering wheel. As for the tent at his crotch—his resting dickface seems so much more ginormous than what I remember it to be. Not that I sneaked a peek at that part of his equipment. Okay, maybe a tiny peek, but that was only as I slid into the car, and he was right there, sprawled in the driver’s seat like a lazy jungle cat. A jaguar. A black jaguar with mis-matched irises who’s biding his time before he leaps on me.
I draw in a breath and that cardamom and mint scent of his infiltrates my senses. My nipples tighten, my toes curl, and my pussy squeezes in on that phantom cock of his that I’ve imagined between my thighs every day since that night he fucked me.
Oh, yeah, at some point in the last few months I changed my mind about that love-making bullshit. It was a shag, pure and simple. That’s all I was to him. That’s all I’ll ever be to him. And I’m going to have to stop thinking about how good that last time between us was. Especially since he hasn’t alluded to it at all since.
"You heard me," I say through gritted teeth. "I haven’t made up my mind about your stupid job offer."
For a few seconds, he doesn’t reply. The silence stretches and stretches until my nerve-endings feel stretched. Goosebumps pop on my skin. The atmosphere inside the car seems to grow thick with unsaid words. It’s as if, without saying anything, he’s conveying his displeasure to me.Don’t say anything. Don’t be the first to speak. If you do, you’ll give him the upper hand.I curl my fingers around the strap of my handbag and press my lips closed. He still doesn’t say a word. Nor does he take his eyes off the road. Or give any other indication that he’s heard me. And yet, I can’t get over the feeling that I’ve disappointment him. And I don’t like the feeling. Not at all.Don’t do it. Don’t.I turn in my seat and scowl at him. "What?"
"I didn’t say a word," he drawls.
"And yet, you’re communicating so much."
"You reading my mind now, Sparrow?"
"Stop with that infernal nickname," I spit out.
He laughs. Asshole chuckles in delight. The sound is warm and hard, and so masculine. The flesh between my thighs quivers.
Damn, he doesn’t need to touch me or even look at me. Apparently, his talking is enough for me to have a spontaneous orgasm. Is there something called a spontaneous orgasm? If not, I’ve invented it. Who am I kidding? He invented it. Bastard.
"You’re ready to fly at me and peck my eyes out; you’re living up to it," he murmurs.
I blow out a breath, then force my muscles to relax. "Can you at least do me the courtesy of acknowledging that I haven’t taken you up on the job?"
