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“What do you think you’re doing?” I sound more horrified than a nun.
“Finding you the less pleasant chair I promised.”
“Let me go.”
“Should’ve thought about that before you defied me. You need to learn how to pick your battles, Mrs. King.” His voice is so close, I can taste his words and feel the rumble of his chest as my legs part, revealing my thighs.
A micro-miniskirt was definitely not the best choice.
It rides up my legs, dangerously close to exposing my underwear. I fight the urge to tug it down, because that would make me look meek in front of the devil.
“I’ll sit on the chair.”
“Missed your chance.” He flips open his newspaper, and even though it’s right in front of me, the words are a blur.
I chance a look at Sam, pathetically asking her to help me, but the damn woman is busy folding napkins at the counter with her back to us.
Refusing to seem affected, I slurp my smoothie and squirm. Jeez. It’s physically impossible to ignore his erection.
“Did you gain on any stock investments today?” I ask, examining my nails.
“Certainly.”
“That explains the celebration happening beneath me.”
He raises a perfect brow, a smile tugging on his lips. “How so?”
“Making yourself rich and the world population poorer is the only thing that turns you on. Is there a paraphilia for money fetishization?”
“I ought to ask you since you’re an expert at splurging. Also”—he folds the newspaper and snakes his arm around my stomach, pulling me back against him until his cock settles at the crack of my arse, where the hem of my skirt meets my naked thighs—“money isn’t what’s sitting on my lap.”
Warmth spreads through me like a burst of fireworks as the straw falls from my lips. Swallowing the contents of my mouth is exceptionally hard as I stare into his dazzling eyes.
A spark of lust stares back at me, strangles my throat with invisible fingers, and licks its way beneath my skin.
No.
“I must say, I’m heartbreakingly disappointed.” I pat his cheek, thankful that I sound coherent enough. “It’s okay. There’s no shame in mediocrity.”
A soft snort comes from the other side of the room and I could swear Sam is laughing, but I can’t turn and see, because I’m winning this round.
I’m met with Eli’s poker face. “Is that so?”
“Uh-huh. Had better.” I fake a yawn.
“Doubtful.”
“Aw. Hurt?”
“Apathetic.”
“Doubtful.” I smirk, but it dies out when he tightens his grip on my waist and slides me up and down his erection.
Oh God.
His cock engorges, thickening and lengthening until it settles right between my thighs.
I resist the urge to clench my legs or pull the damned skirt down.
