Page 38 of Feral King

“Tell me to stop,” he says against my lips.

“Don’t you ever say that to me again.”

His hand reaches the lace of my underwear. His fingers slip beneath the fabric, and when he touches me, and he finds me already wet for him, he makes a low, possessive growl that makes my heart rate spike.

Julian’s forehead presses against mine, staring right into my eyes, as his fingers move to exactly where I need them. I’m biting my lip and clutching the edge of the desk and?—

Knock-knock.

We freeze.

Shit.

“Julian?” Anya’s voice sounds muffled through the heavy door.

“Yes? I’m in the middle of a conference call.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but Kostin Dobrov is here. Says it’s urgent. And he’s not really taking no for an answer.”

Julian’s hand is still between my thighs; his breath ragged against my cheek. I can feel his heart hammering beneath my hand on his chest.

He withdraws slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The second he’s gone, I want him right back.

“Two minutes,” he calls out. His voice is calm and steady, which is an almost comical contrast to the other parts of him that aren’t so calm and composed.

He steps back and straightens his shirt, runs a hand through his hair. Within ten seconds, he’s gone from a man who was about to have sex to a professional, composed CEO.

I slide off the desk and smooth my skirt, trying to calm my breaths, but my heart’s still pounding and my panties aresoaked.

“Go,” he says quietly.

I steal a quick kiss, then hurry over to the door and unlock it, walking past Anya with the most neutral expression I can manage.

I go back to my office and sit at my desk. I open my copy of the donor file, staring at it without reading a single word.

God, I’m in so much trouble.

CHAPTER 13

JULIAN

Ican still smell her when Dobrov walks in.

I want that part of Lyra to stay exactly where it is on my hand while I deal with the man who almost certainly was responsible for the watcher outside of her apartment.

Dobrov enters the way he always does—unhurried, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes searching, as if he wants to scan every bit of the room to ensure it’s safe. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit and silver-rimmed glasses, a sly smile on his lips. It’s the same smile he wore when I first met him, back when I was nineteen, and he was sizing me up for the first time.

“Julian.” He settles into the chair opposite my desk without behind invited. “I received your message this morning. Very eloquent, as always.”

“I wasn’t aiming for eloquence.”

“No. You were aiming for my men’s kneecaps, from what I understand.” The smile tightens. “Two of my people,beaten unconscious and dumped like garbage outside of my office in Brighton Beach. Do you know where the orbital bone is?”

Of course, I know. But I’m in a bit of a belligerent mood this morning.

“Is that a new club of yours?”