Killian
I spend the afternoon running around the building, dealing with problems. The plumbing in the showers is backed up. There's a scorpion in one of the rooms in the east wing. And somehow, an order for fifteen industrial sized washers turned into a delivery of thirty stackable washers. They won't last a month around here.
By the time I've got everything sorted, it's already close to six. I'm worried Liberty may have snuck out without waiting for me. And I'm still pissed about the fact that she doesn't know how beautiful she is. People are assholes for making her think that way, for making her doubt herself. She's the prettiest little thing I've ever seen.
Being around her is doing a number on my cock. The hard bastard won't go down. Every time my erection abates, I remember the way she moaned or the feel of her soft body colliding with mine and he perks right back up, desperate for relief. I'm beginning to worry I'm going to end up as one of those cautionary tales about what happens when an erection lasts longer than four hours.
I practically run back to our office, only to exhale in relief when I find her behind her desk, squinting at her computer. Her pretty bun is long gone. So are her shoes. She's got her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail with her feet propped up on the footstool I bought her.
"Hey," she says, looking up at me through tired eyes.
Has she taken a break at all since I left after lunch? It doesn't look like it.
"You done yet?" I ask, prowling toward her.
She furrows her brows like she doesn't know what I'm talking about. She's been so caught up in her work, she doesn't even know what time it is. Irritation floods through me. Not with her, but with myself. I should have realized she'd get lost. Alessi tried to warn me that she does it, said she gets so hyper-focused the world could end and she wouldn't even realize it.
I'll take better care of her tomorrow.
"Come on," I murmur, stopping beside her and holding out a hand. "You're done for the day."
"I need to finish this last bit of code," she says, stubborn as hell.
"No."
"Killian."
"No, Liberty."
She narrows her eyes on me.
"You work for me now," I remind her. "I decide when enough is enough. You can't win a war in a day, baby girl."
"I thought we were trying to help them recover from war," she mutters, rolling her eyes at me.
If she were a recruit, I'd be making her sweat for that shit. Lucky for her, I know enough about women to know I can't treat her like she's enlisted, not if I want her to fall in love with me. Instead, I turn her chair around and wrap my hands around her waist, picking her up.
"Killian, put me down!"
I sit her on the edge of her desk. "You're not used to being cared for," I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple. "You'll learn."
"Learn what?" she says, scowling at me when I grab her purse and phone before handing them over to her.
"That I make the rules now. When you obey, you get rewarded. When you don't, you get punished. You'll enjoy it either way." I fish her heels out from under the desk, turning them around in my hands. No wonder women are forever kicking off their shoes. There's no way there's enough space in these things for their delicate toes.
"I'm a big girl."
A growl erupts from my lips.
"I mean, I can take care of myself," she says, rolling her eyes at me again. "Jeez. You're a caveman."
When it comes to her, she's probably right. I want to be the man she leans on, the one who takes care of her, the only one who gets to be intimate with her. I want to be the one she trusts with every piece of herself. The one who gets to take care of her like the treasure she is.
Christ, if my men could see me now, they wouldn't even recognize me. I've always been a hard-ass, more than willing to hand out an ass chewing or launch an attack on our enemies. I'm still more than capable of doing both, but she has some long dormant instinct bubbling to the surface. The one that says she's mine to protect and provide for. The one that wants to alternatively fuck her raw and spoil her rotten.
"Never said you couldn't," I mutter, slipping her shoes on her feet. Her little toenails are painted a sparkly purple color. She has a mole on her ankle. I run my hand up her leg before curving it around her hip and tugging her closer to me. "You've been doing it for a long time, baby girl. Now I'm going to be the lucky motherfucker who gets to do it for you."
"Killian," she whispers, her irritation vanishing. Her expression softens, melting like butter.
"You want me to cook for you or do you want to go out?"
"We can go out." She hesitates. "Unless you don't want to."
One day, this infuriating, beautiful woman is going to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'd go anywhere so long as I was with her. Getting to spend time with her and show her off is not a hardship. Fuck everyone who ever made her think it was.