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He narrowed his eyes as he hovered over her. “Did you already start without even talking to me?”
“What? No. I came to your office straight after work.”
He blinked. “Huh? What kind of Irish pub is that, if they have you dressed like that?”
She stood from her chair, the top of her head coming up to his chest. She leaned back and shot him an angry look. “No, Gwenn picked me up from my other job at the dance studio and drove me straight over. Never mind. You have girls prancing around in your office wearing nothing but a pearl thong, and you criticize what I’m wearing to work? Oh, you are something else, Devlin Walker.”
This feisty side to Teagan came out of left field. Like a kick to his gut, he realized she couldn’t be any more perfect.
“You are not a stripper. You’re…”
“I’m what?” she asked, bringing her hands on her hips, waiting for him to carry on this stupid argument—one he already knew he had lost. His irrational jealousy of her showing her perfect body in these hot as hell work out clothes didn’t make any sense at all. She had been absolutely right in calling him out on it.
Next time he would see Wolf, he would kick his ass—VP or not. Having Teagan in her skintight clothes around him while he wouldn’t be able to touch her was cruel, even by Wolf’s standards. And he’d done some crazy shit to fuckers in the clubhouse basement with that drain in the middle of the floor.
“I don’t want you here,” he said through gritted teeth. Holding on by a thread, he was this close in kissing her full lips. He didn’t know if he could stop after tasting her again.
“Keep telling yourself that,” she said, before she treated him to a smug smirk. The little brat thought she had him all figured out. He would show her.
“You think I secretly want you around?” he asked with a sarcastic huff of breath.
It took her a moment, probably to gather her courage, before she said in a breathy voice, “Yes. I know you do. I can feel it.”
His dick wanted out of his jeans and into her warmth. It would be heaven, but he needed his wits about him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, creating some distance between them. “You don’t know shit, Little Bird.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “No?”
Even the innocent gesture of her hand resting on his arm made his nerve endings tingle. A groan escaped his lips. “Fuckin’ hell.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You’re awfully close to getting that pretty tight ass of yours spanked six ways from Sunday.”
Her wide eyes rounded even more at his suggestion. “You wouldn’t.”
His heart raced as he whished he could take her up on her dare.
“You’re right. I’m not going there with you.” He took a step back, and she dropped her hand from his arm.
Her voice was soft, filled with disappointment as she said, “Why not?”
His first mistake was not walking away. His second was watching in satisfaction how his gaze made her blush while she splayed a hand over her heaving chest. All the way to the door, he damned himself knowing that he was about to make a huge mistake.
The click of a door locking had never sounded so loud.
“Turn around. Both hands on the desk,” he said in a low voice, making sure she knew playtime was over and that he was in charge.
She did as he asked, whispering, “Oh, God…”
“Stick out that pretty ass. That’s right. Bend over for me,” he whispered in her ear, leaning over her. His hand between her shoulder blades held her in place as his other hand traced a downward path over her spine.
She moved her head to the other side, keeping a close watch on him. He quirked a brow. “Did I say you could watch me?”
His heart skipped a beat when she immediately complied and turned her head.
“Good girl,” he said as he carried on caressing the warm skin of her lower back.
A moan slipped from between her lips as he treacherously slow rolled her yoga pants down her tight globes. He let the rolled up pants rest right under her cheeks, pushing the naked flesh up for him on a silver platter. Her tight pussy peeked out innocently between her thighs.
