Page 17 of Possessive Mr. Pen

“The correct word is distraught.”I curse myself for my lack of control.I shouldn’t engage with him at all, nor should I reveal so much.

With fury burning my insides, I lift my chin and aim for the side of the double doors he isn’t leaning against as I say, “We’re not at work, so it’s none of your business.”

Just as freedom seems plausible, he reaches out and traps my forearm in an iron grip.

My nipples harden in a rush and my core clenches.Liquid fire floods my panties.

Fucking sexy men and their goddamn long arms and impossibly strong hands.

I dig my nails into my palms and meet his intense green stare.

“Everything about you is my business,” he says.

My stomach bottoms out.I fill my lungs until my ribs ache and bite my tongue until the sensation passes.The diabolical delight shimmering in his emerald orbs as he watches me struggle only fans the flames of my fury.

I swallow and resist trying to yank my arm free.The leashed power in his grip reminds me of how easily he overpowered me at the hotel, and the last thing I want is to invite him to touch me elsewhere.

Thoughts of him pinning me against the doorframe or bending me over a table flit through my mind.Need thickens my blood and slickens my panties.

“I am your personal assistant, not your slave, Mr.Pen.Let go of my arm.”

I take pride in my cool tone.

“We aren’t at work, Hilary.Call me by my name,” he says.

“We aren’t friends either.This is assault.Get your hand off me,” I demand.

“Say my name, Hilary.”

I grit my teeth and give my arm an experimental tug.His lips curve in the wickedest smirk.

Feminine voices echo down the hall as my friends search for me.

Deciding this isn’t the time to argue over something so silly, I give him what he wants in the fakest way possible.

I tuck my emotions away and offer him a friendly smile.

“Please remove your hand from my arm, Connor.You’re hurting me,” I lie.

He releases me before two ladies turn the corner, but he crowds me against the doorframe and leans down just enough to whisper in my ear.

“You like when it hurts though, don’t you, my warrior queen?”

My mind blanks at the unexpected intimacy and reverence hidden within his taunt.Before I can retaliate, his long strides carry him down the hall.

With puzzled expressions, Karey and Millie greet me.I apologize, assure them I’m fine, then follow them to rejoin the tour.

After dipping in and out of a few rooms, the wedding coordinator gathers everyone where the ceremony will take place and instructs the couples to one side of the aisle and the singles to the other.

Mr.Pen ruins my attempt to join the singles side by grabbing my wrist and hauling me after him.When he merely tugs me to stand beside him instead of pulling me against his body, I decide to go along with it so as not to cause a scene in front of all my friends.

I grit my teeth and ignore the throbbing of my core as his signature leather-and-smoke scent invades my sinuses.

Despite all our years in close proximity, I can’t recall ever just standing next to him, so when my shoulder brushes his arm, awareness tingles along my nerves.Very rarely am I shorter than anyone else, so to have his shoulder above mine unnerves me.

I may not be wearing sky-high stilettos, but these shoes offer me an extra two inches of height, and he’s still at least two inches taller than me.The realization feeds the instinctual hunger pulsing through my veins.

I hate it.I hate how he commands so much of me without even trying.I hate how much effort it takes to suppress myself when I’m around him.