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What I don’t know is why the hell she covered it up. The whole point was for her to wear it loud and proud. So dumbasses like Ewing would get the fucking hint and back the fuck off.
He shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t be allowed to walk inside this building, let alone be here in Daphne’s office.
Daphne’s protesting, but I couldn’t hear her even if I wanted to—my blood is roaring through my ears and I’m doing everything possible to not just throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of the art gallery to the car.
As it is, I’m shoving her out her office door, my arm firmly wrapped around her.
One of her idiot bosses pokes his head out of his office, but I shoot him a glare that dares him to fuck with me. He ducks back inside and I can hear him lock the door.
“Pasha!” Daphne whips her head around. I don’t stop, and I don’t let her stop, either. “I haven’t checked with Todd?—”
“I’m sure he knows.” And if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay out of my way.
I’m still seething by the time we get to my car. It’s lucky I don’t rip the passenger door clean off the hinges; I’m in no mood to be gentle. I shove her in the car and go to buckle her in myself…
But then I halt.
I didn’t factor in her scent. It’s there, faint but undeniable. Teasing. Tempting.
I slowly turn my head to look at her. I could kiss her. I could devour her right here, right now. I should.
“Pasha…”
Fuck. The way she breathes my name has me harder than fucking steel. I hear her breath catch…
“Don’t move.”
The last thing either of us needs is a smashed finger in the door when I slam it shut. I take a few deep, steadying breaths before I stride over to the driver’s side and get in.
It’s damn near impossible to drive when I can smell her and sense her so goddamn close. I have one hand gripping her thigh like she’s about to fly off somewhere, and a brain that won’t stop thinking about Conrad fucking Ewing and those stupid fucking flowers.
And that mark. My mark. She covered it up, like it’s something to be ashamed of.
“Where are we going?” Daphne asks quietly.
I don’t know. I just had to get her out of there before I pounded both of us into a mutual screaming orgasm for all the world to hear.
My hand on her thigh is on the same page as my dick. I’m rubbing, stroking, easing up her dress. My erection wants Daphne’s pussy; my thoughts want Ewing’s blood.
He saw her in this dress. He probably thought about tugging the neckline low so he could latch on to her?—
Fuck this.
I whip a hard left out of nowhere. Daphne has to grab the oh-shit handle above her head as I turn us into a parking garage that I happen to own.
“Seriously, Pasha, where are we going?”
That last syllable hikes up a breathy octave when my fingers delve under her dress and slide over her mound. Through the soaked material of her panties, I start caressing her lips up and down… up and down…
By the time I park, Daphne is breathing hard and her bottom lip is trembling with need. She blinks at me, her lashes lowered; her hips writhe to get more of my fingers’ attention.
God, she is so fucking beautiful.
I tell myself we’re going to go inside. I’m going to take her into one of my auxiliary offices where there’s a futon and privacy.
But between pulling my fingers from her sweet slit, walking around the outside of the SUV with the scent of her desire teasing my senses, and the way she blinks up at me when I yank her door open…
Change of plans.
