Page 21 of The Pleasure of Panic

Her hands automatically go to my coat, but I grab her wrists and tilt my head at her.

“What?” she whispers, breathing heavy from the instant passion and heat we’ve created.

“Don’t touch,” I say. It’s not a request, either.

“What?” she asks again. A small chuckle escapes with her question.

“You heard me,” I say, undoing the top button of her white blouse. It’s a feminine blouse, low-cut with a tiny ruffle running down the seams on either side of the small, gemstone buttons sparkling in the light coming in from the windows on either side of the door.

A crooked smile appears on her face. We’re not kissing anymore, but that’s OK. We’ve got time for more of that later. She huffs out another tiny laugh, but this time it’s laced with cynicism. “Is that how you like to play?”

“Sure,” I say. “My time, my game, my rules. You want me to leave, Issy Grey, owner-operator of one Go Fuck Yourself empowerment establishment? Just say the word and I’m out.”

She stares at me, still smiling.

“But if you want me to stay, we do it my way.”

“Fine,” she says. “But it had better be worth it.”

“Had it?” I ask. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll quit,” she says, back up, pressing her body against the wall. “And stop playing. So if you fancy yourself a top, you better know what you’re doing.”

I laugh. Like… I think this might be the truest moment of pure joy I’ve had since my father died. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Good,” she says, bowing her head slightly so she can look up at me through her long, thick eyelashes. Her blue eyes are wide and calm. “Because I do too.”

I rip her fucking blouse open. The tiny fake gemstone buttons go flying, skittering across the hardwood floor. And then I rip her fucking bra open too. The front-closing clasp breaks and Issy lets out a small gasp. “Do you have any idea how much I paid for this fucking bra?”

“I’ll buy you another one,” I say, dragging the blouse and the bra away from her body so she’s forced to present herself to me, naked from the waist up.

My hands grab her tits automatically, taking what is now mine. Her eyes are still wide, but no longer calm. They’re teeming with shock, excitement, and a healthy side of desire as I fondle her, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her close her eyes and hiss out a breath.

“Be careful,” she growls. “I have a very fine line, Agent Murphy. And if you cross it, you’re gonna find out where my boundaries are immediately.”

Yeah. Pure joy. I kiss her mouth again, my tongue pressing against hers, my hands still busy playing with her breasts. “A less experienced man,” I whisper into her mouth, “might take that as a threat, Ms. Grey.”

“It’s a promise,” she whispers back, her words still laced with dessert and wine. “Not a threat.”

“But I take it,” I say, ignoring her, “as a challenge. Fair warning of the rules over with, you will now stop talking and just listen.”

Another small, incredulous laugh escapes.

But it’s cut short when my hand slides up her breast and lands on the side of her neck. I don’t squeeze. She doesn’t need that extra embellishment to understand what that signal means.

Her throat muscles move as she swallows down whatever it is she’s feeling. Fear? Probably not. She’s far too capable in a fight for fear to be her first reaction.

No, that hard swallow was… desire.

My other hand slips into her slacks. They’re not tight around her waist—kinda loose, actually. Riding low, like her hips are the only thing keeping them up. Like these pants might be left over from a time when she was heavier, but she keeps them around to wear on days she wants to be comfortable at work.

Or—and this second thought is far more likely—she wears them loose in case she needs to use one of those kickboxing moves she tried on the cops back at her work tonight.

But who cares?

I find her wet between her legs and decide I was right. Desire.

“I know your type,” I say, leaning in to whisper the words into her ear. She sucks in a breath of air and a chill spreads across her neck, making her skin prickle up. The tiny, soft hairs just below her hairline are standing on end. “You’re a control freak. You took martial arts to maintain that facade. You run that women’s empowerment class to spread your brand of control to others. And to be a leader. You like to lead, don’t you?”