His Fake Fiancee: BBW Romance (Fake it For Me) - Page 24

His focus is on his screen, but I notice he’s doing that thing, tapping the forefinger of his right hand on the desk. His head comes up. “You have the financials?”

I nod then cross the room, tension increasing with every step. What is going on with me? I offer him the binder. He leans back, doesn’t take it from me, just allows his eyes to run over me. Those bees are freaking the fuck out, as am I. He doesn’t say a word, and it is seriously scary.

“What?” The word escapes my tight throat. Anything to end this moment.

“I told you I will not terminate your employment. Is that why you flagrantly disregard my instructions? You feel safe you can do whatever you wish and get away with it?” His words are soft yet vibrating with something that sends the hairs on the back of my neck up.

My mouth is dry then wet. I shake my head, my throat tight. Glittering black obsidian touches my face, my cheek, my lips.

“I want an explanation for why you are covered in makeup. Why you are wearing unsuitable clothing.”

Fear builds until it breaks under the weight of his anger. “Fuck you. I quit.”

I toss the binder on the desk and walk away. I can’t. I can’t do this. No, not another day, he’s making me crazy. I’ve gone all of three feet before a large hand grabs my arm, burning me as it grips me tight to swing me around to him.

“You are not going anywhere.”

Gravel, smoke, fire thrash at me. Close, he’s too close; my body is going absolutely fucking nuts. I’m plugged into a thousand volts of electricity, and god, I want more.

“I will not allow it. You are not this weak. You will not buckle at the first test.”

It’s a direct hit. I’m not weak! Fuck him. Steel would bend when it got hot enough, and this bastard is a sustained wildfire every time I get close.

“You won’t allow it? Fuck you. I’m not weak. You hit me every time you get close. There is only so much any person could take of it.” I’m fighting not to yell and losing.

“I had to wear makeup. I didn’t get any sleep. I looked half dead. I don’t like makeup, okay? Not that it’s any of your fucking business. But I know how to use it and when I need to I will. So that I don’t embarrass you while I’m at your side. The clothes I’m wearing are all I had.”

“Liar, I know you brought a dress.” He hurls the words at me.

How the hell could he know? “Fine, I had the dress I wore the other day. I didn’t want to wear it unless it was absolutely necessary. Tim saw me in it just the other day. It’s embarrassing not to have more clothes that would fit. I would have gone shopping but I’m not some fucking doll. You don’t get to say what I wear, whether it’s makeup or clothes, you megalomaniac control freak. You told me I could walk away. I’m walking away.”

“I lied.”

The words are the last thing I hear before my world explodes. The hand on my arm tightens and yanks me hard up against him. His other hand catches me around the back of my neck and brings me up to him or he moves down to me, I don’t know. I don’t care, all I know is his mouth is on mine. Those lips are softer than I imagined as they crash down on me. His tongue is hotter, harder, and so much more savage than I ever dreamed.

My hands are around his neck, holding on tight to him, to this moment. Every step I have taken, every decision has led to this moment, to him. After everything he has said and done, I would never have thought it possible but in his arms, I’m home. I’m safe. I’m where I belong. A strong arm is around my back, binding me to him; it’s too much and not nearly enough. I can feel him, steel burning into my soft stomach, oh god, wet heat floods my body in preparation, in craven need.

Suddenly, he tears his mouth away. Shock is clear on his face, no, no please and there it is: regret. He closes his eyes as he shakes his head.

“Please, don’t say it,” I beg him.

“I should not have done that. I apologize.” He’s moving away from me. Pulling away, yet my knees refuse to stand on their own. I almost fall, he catches me, and all too briefly I’m back in his arms before he settles me onto the chair in front of his desk. “Please forgive me. I—”

“No.”

He rises to his full height in front of me. “What?”

“I don’t forgive you, for anything. Are you trying to fuck with my head? Is this how you get your kicks?”

Thank god he’s confused.

“No, of course not. This is wrong. You are my employee. I am the one in the position of control. Regardless of the fact that is exactly how I prefer it in my personal life, when it comes to getting involved with someone who works for me...” He shakes his head. “The unevenness of it is wrong. I do not want you to feel as if you are compelled to be with me in order to keep your job. Which you are not leaving, by the way.”

He’s lost his mind. I can’t stay.

“Look at me, Christina.”

Defiantly, I refuse. I won’t stay and he can’t make me. Holy crap, I flinch at the lethal threat in his eyes. He is vibrating with pure menace, his hands clenched so tight his knuckles are white.

Tags: Fiona Murphy Erotic
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