Page 38 of Possessive Mr. Pen

She pushes ahead of me, gestures to the couch, and tosses the folder onto my desk.

I sit in the center of the couch.She crosses her arms over her chest and leans her butt on the edge of my desk.

I quirk a brow.

“I’m not helping you.Unless you had a sweet little side piece get you dressed this morning, you can take your shirt off yourself,” she challenges.

I growl my disappointment, stand, and strip my upper half.

When her appreciation morphs to horror, I give a stilted sigh and settle back down on the couch.She glides toward me in true goddess fashion.

“Fucking hell, Connor.Were you in a car accident or gang fight or something?”

My chuckle hurts.

“No,” I wince.

She sits on the coffee table facing me with her legs beside mine.

“Then what the hell happened?”

“Let’s call it a family dispute,” I mumble.

“The Koch’s did this?”

Fuck, her quick wit may be the death of me.In four words, she highlights how fucked up my life is.

“No, the family I chose,” I say.

She sighs, rubs her forehead, and complains under her breath, “And he has the audacity to question my decisions,” before lifting her gaze and pinning me in place with her deep brown eyes.“I can’t treat internal bleeding.You’re going to the hospital.”

“It’s just an old injury flaring up.I’ll—”

“I can’t marry you if you’re dead.Shut up.We’re going.”

Happy to be on the receiving end of her care, I don’t move as she takes control.

She rises and dials three numbers on her cell as she glides away from me.As amazing as her ass and legs are in that skirt, I long to see her face.The glimpse I caught of her concern isn’t nearly enough.She cares about me, even if she refuses to say it out loud.

As she informs the nine-one-one operator of my condition, she notifies security of the impending paramedics, grabs a pen and the contract from my desk, scribbles a few lines on the last page, then drops the open folder on my lap.After reading the addition, I sign and date.She takes both items from me, signs, then tosses it onto the coffee table and bends at the waist to press her ear to my chest.

My cock hardens to granite at the view.Her silky hair teases my flesh.Despite her terse words as she speaks to the operator, her breath washes over my chest and caresses my nipple.

I bite back a groan and fist the couch cushions.This is the most my gladiator goddess has touched me in eight years.I’m not sure how much more I can take before I disgrace myself.

“I don’t hear rattling or gurgling,” she tells the operator.

Disappointment throbs through me as she rises even as my hunger triples as she bends down and grabs my discarded clothing off the floor.

“He moves with care, but no limitations.”She slaps my thigh to pull my attention off her breasts and holds my button down out for me to slip into.“We’ll walk down to the lobby to meet the paramedics.”I rise and thread my arms into the fabric.“Yes, we still need an ambulance.”She tugs me around to face her, pulls the receiver away from her mouth and whispers, “Roll your sleeves,” before pinching the phone between her ear and shoulder and continuing her discussion with the operator as she buttons my shirt.

Unable to resist, I wrap my arms around her.She lifts eyes full of warning.I smirk and roll my sleeves behind her back as she fastens the front of my shirt.

“Yes, ma’am.No coat.No tie,” she continues.

The dam of my control nearly cracks under the pressure in my balls as she reaches around and tucks my shirt into my trousers.With my belt still buckled, she has no choice but to wedge her fingers into my waistband.The tugging rubs her breasts against me and brushes my cock against her curves.

I finish rolling my sleeves and settle my hands on her hips.She knocks my wrists away, grabs my arm, and hauls me toward the door.