Big Ben (See No Evil Trilogy #1) - Nana Malone Page 0,1
I did as I was told. I could hear movement in the office beyond. I didn’t want to be caught. The more I moved, the more noise I made. And the last thing I needed was evidence of the broken sculpture to be found. Evidence I still held in my hand.
So, I was stuck like that, pressed up against a total stranger with a chest broad enough to obscure me from view and tall enough to tower over me. Christ, he was big.
The voices and footsteps drew closer outside.
I held my breath. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I couldn’t be caught in here. No way in hell could I explain any of this. There was no easy way to say, “Hey, sorry I broke your priceless statue’s dick as I was running away from your party.” So I was stuck. In a closet, in the dark. With a guy who could only be described as a Viking in a tux.
And was that his very large erection pressing against my belly? I swallowed hard. Oh yes, that was also most certainly his hand on my ass. I opened my mouth to bite his hand, and he admonished me with a whispered, “Shut up. Neither one of us wants to get caught, love.”
He had a point there. But his hand flexed on my ass, and I was not okay with it.
Except… Somewhere deep down inside, my inner libido was absolutely fine with it. It had been six long months since I’d had sex, boyfriend notwithstanding, and I was craving a man’s touch. But it was still wrong. The Viking wasn’t Dexter. I needed to get the hell out of there.
But there was one slight problem; whoever was in the office wasn’t going away, so I was stuck there with one of the Viking’s hands on my ass and the other on my mouth, and I was too afraid to breathe.
“You need to moan. You had better be a damn good actress.”
He couldn’t see me, but I still furrowed my brow before I opened my mouth to protest. Then suddenly, he lifted his hand off my mouth, but he didn’t release me. Instead, he slid that hand into my hair, angling his head so his face was in the crook of my neck. “You’re going to have to moan now.”
“What the—”
His mouth on my neck sent a spike of pure need that tugged low in my belly, and the moan that followed was completely involuntary. It felt good. Too good. His lips trailed along my collar bone. His teeth nipped my skin. I wanted to argue. To fight. To tell him to get his hands the hell off me because I had a boyfriend. But I was distracted by his mouth and the hand in my hair tugging it to the side, making a mess of what had taken me hours to artfully straighten and arrange.
But still the footsteps and voices grew closer, and the Viking whispered again. “Fake it till you make it, princess. Make me believe you.”
His hand tightened on my ass, squeezing and pulling me flush against him. The hard length of his erection was like steel against my belly.
He throbbed against me, and before I could wiggle away, the door cracked open and light streamed in like a ray of sunshine. I finally understood what he was doing.
This was for show. This was our way out. Our way to keep from being caught. We had to fake this and fake it well.
I moaned loud enough to be heard. The door opened a little wider, and I ducked my head into his neck too. My breathing was ragged as he ravaged my neck. Later, when I came to my senses, I would tell myself I hadn’t rocked against his erection.
All I heard then was a chuckle from someone, and muffled words as the door closed again and any hint of light was gone.
The Viking Adonis should have released me then, but he trailed his nose up the column of my throat again until he hit the shell of my ear, and then his lips whispered, “Very well done, princess.”
He released me suddenly. But his jacket caught on my pin as he shoved open the door, and I squeaked. “No, no, no.” But I heard the soft ping as my pin hit the floor, and the sound made tears well in my eyes. “Shit.”
“Are you okay?” His voice was brusque, distracted.