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“Three times.” Slowly, my brow furrows as I turn to glance at her over my shoulder. “Or was it four?”
Her face turns crimson and her jaw drops open and then snaps shut again, as if we’re in the climax of Edgar Allan Poe’sTelltale Heartand she’s terrified that the truth will just tumble out.
“What do you think, Elsa?” I smile broadly. She shivers as I slowly close the distance between us, until I’m standing right in front of her. “Was it three times, or four?”
She swallows uneasily, her face burning hotter and hotter, like it might combust under the pressure.
“I…how the hell should I know?” she mumbles, her hands clenched at her sides.
“That is agreatquestion.”
The energy between us hums. She swallows again, her lower lip quivering before her teeth firmly latch into it.
“I really think you should leave. I have work to do,” she finally blurts.
I just smile, letting my eyes pierce into hers before she yanks her gaze away with a shudder. It’s only then that I release her from my gaze.
I turn and make for the door.
“Hades.”
Halfway through the door, I turn with a smirk on my lips and a raised brow.
“Don’t ever break into my office again.”
“Noted. Enjoy your weekend…kitten.”
She gasps, and I swear she’s about to throw up.
Then I leave, with a hungry grin on my face.
7
ELSA
He.Knows.
Three full, long minutes after Hades leaves, I’m still standing in the middle of my office.
Motionless. Stunned. Staring that the door, trying to remember how to breathe.
“Enjoy your weekend…kitten.”
A heated shiver creeps up my spine. Flashes of gasped breathes, of fingers and limbs twisting in bedsheets, of nails dragging down his muscled back. Of sweat and pleasure. Of stars flashing in front of my eyes as my body came completely undone at his touch.
I flinch, shuddering and wrenching myself back into the present, blinking as I stare vacantly at the closed door of my office.
I’m losing it.
Hades doesn’t “know”. Of course he doesn’t. If he did, he would have one hundred percent rubbed my face in it, or used it as leverage, or dangled my dirty, sinful secret over my head to gleefully make me dance, and beg him not to tell anyone.
Or he’d have used it to fuck me again.
I tremble, heat throbbing dangerously between my thighs. Then I force myself to take a long, deep breath.
He doesn’t know. There’s no damn way he does. Obviously, all he said was “enjoy your weekend”. And me, being freaked out that he was standing in front of me less than twelve hours after claiming every single inch of my body and redefining my definition of orgasm, simply misheard.
I outright invented that last “kitten”, although I have no freaking idea what he could have said thatsoundedlike kitten.
