Page 7 of Possessive Mr. Pen

“Turn around,” I demand.

Her bare shoulders stiffen, and she tightens her grip on her clutch.The leather squeaks in complaint.I marvel at how stunning she is when her eyes darken in fury, but I scowl in disappointment at the show of defiance.

In tonight’s circle of high society, such indignation can not only end your career, but also your life.Offend the wrong person and no one will investigate your death.

I should know.My mother’s murder was swept under the rug as though she never existed.

Hilary thins her lips, and even though she lifts her foot to begin a slow turn, I rise and stalk toward her.

In true warrior fashion, she squares her shoulders with mine and holds her ground as I approach.I stop with the pointed tips of my dress shoes a foot away from her toes.

I reach for her shoulder.She lifts a hand to block me, but I pause and focus my attention on her gaze, daring her to stop me.

After a deep breath, she drops her arm to her side and relaxes her shoulders into a practiced poise.

I push her hair behind her shoulder, remove the hair clip from above her ear, and slip it into the thick tresses near the back of her head, creating a half updo effect and exposing her long, elegant neck on the opposite side of her body as the slit in her dress.

Her tantalizing raspberry and vanilla perfume fills my senses, and I resist the urge to run my hands over her throat and shoulders by sheer force of will.

I may be an asshole, but I’m not an asshole without purpose.No matter how much I want to ravage her right here, right now, I will not take her by force.Sure, we both enjoy a bite of pain with our pleasure, but no means no.

I’ve seen how easy a man can break a woman.The last thing I want is to see this gorgeous goddess torn apart.

I step back and cross my arms over my chest.

“Turn around,” I instruct again.

She hides her annoyance well, but my obsession with her means I’ve studied her every reaction for the last eight years, so I notice and scowl at the flash of emotions in her eyes and the slight flexing of her jaw.My disapproval only increases her fury, but she loosens her fists and gives a slow turn.

Fucking hell, her ass is too perfect.The dress fits her too well.Her natural grace and lithe movements are too alluring.I long to grab her by the hair, bend her over, and fuck the obstinance right out of her, but even in my fantasy, she refuses to relent.She’s too stubborn to submit to anyone’s whims except her own.

Which makes her even more perfect.

She completes her slow spin and meets my stare with an impressively neutral expression.I test her resolution and tilt her head back with a knuckle under her chin.Her nostrils flare, but she hides her indignation behind soft, vulnerable eyes and plump, kissable lips.

“You’re perfect, Ms.Winthrop,” I murmur.

Surprise widens her lashes before fury burns in her eyes.So dark they appear more black than brown, her onyx irises pull me into their depths even as she responds with cool indifference.

“Thank you, Mr.Pen.Is there anything else I can help you with?”

I enjoy the slight catch of her breath as I smirk.

“There is.”

She quirks a brow.I take her wrist, tug her toward me as I pivot, and thread her arm through mine so her hand rests in the crook of my elbow.

“This is where you belong for the rest of the night,” I demand.

Before she can pull away, I pin her arm to my side and press my hand over hers on my forearm.

“I think after your,” I glance down at her breasts, “accident, it’s best you stay by my side.Don’t you agree, Ms.Winthrop?”I challenge.

In a brilliant display of impertinent compliance, she responds in the most saccharine voice I’ve ever heard.

“Of course, Mr.Pen.”

I pour extra satisfaction into my smirk even though I hate dragging Hilary into the pit of vipers.She doesn’t resist when I start forward, nor does she balk when I shorten my stride and slow my pace.