The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,45

flash of knowing flickers in her cool expression.

I want her, and she knows it. “I’m sorry. I came to apologize.” It’s a battle to not stare at her. I can’t seem to drag my gaze away. She’s all the things I am not: calm, aloof, defiant.

“You came all the way here to do that?”

I want to kiss her. I want to put my mouth to her soft, satin skin. I want to leave a trail of kisses from her face to her neck to her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. She doesn’t respond and still makes no attempt to cover up. I warn myself that her sexiness is a siren song I need to take heed of. I haven’t had sex for so long that this sight of her is killing me.

My imagination fizzles and spurts. Blood gushes south. “You’re almost naked,” I comment, because nothing else appropriate comes to mind. I should look away and still I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off her, and she knows it. Our roles have reversed and she holds power over me in this instant. Right now, I’m not the man she works for. I’m just a man, and the way her chin is tilted, confirms that.

“You should get dressed,” I say.

“You interrupted me. You’re the one who’s in my room without permission.”

“I knocked on the door.”

“I didn’t hear. I was in the bathroom washing the juice stains off.”

I swallow, because my mind now holds images of her in the shower and me washing her. My gaze runs down her length, taking in her flat stomach, her silky skin, her beautiful breasts. And still she makes no attempt to cover up. I can’t stop myself from taking a step closer. The blood in my cock, drained from my brain, has made it hard to think straight.

She doesn’t even flinch.

I can’t do this. Stepping towards her bed, I snatch her blouse. The silky fabric is soft to touch, it’s like holding nothing. I hand it to her, praying that she’ll take it and spare me the agony of having a hard-on and no release.

She gives me a look of victory, as if she knows the effect she’s having on me.

“I’m not used to being around people,” I say, my voice tight because it’s getting harder to breathe watching her slip her arms into the blouse slowly. She’s doing a reverse striptease, and it couldn’t be more sexier.

“That was obvious from day one.” She slowly does up the button on one sleeve cuff, then the other.

“Obvious?” I try not to stare at her chest, which is still on display.

“You’re not an easy man to get on with.”

“I’m trying to be better.”

“For who?”

“For you,” I reply, surprising myself with that revelation.

“For me?” She starts to do up her blouse buttons one by one. It’s excruciating to watch and do nothing while my cock grows bigger.

This woman is a torturer, a tease, someone who constantly surprises me. When the people I hang around with the most, the characters I create, my string-controlled marionettes, do as I command, having this wild fire of a woman in my life means I am constantly on edge. It’s intoxicating, and frustrating, and I’m struggling to hold it together.

“Are you doing that on purpose?” Because it seems to me that she’s playing with me.

“Doing what?” A smile curves along her lips. She knows. She knows what effect she’s having on me and she doesn’t care. Her gaze dips lower and settles on the tent pole between my legs. If only I’d been wearing my wretched robe. It would have hidden this better. Instead, the soft fabric of my sweatpants reveals everything clearly.

I pause, because I don’t have a handle on the situation. I back away. “I’m not going to fire you, in case you were worried about that.”

“Fire me for what? I didn’t take your pen.” She tucks her blouse into her skirt, breaking the spell, whatever it as, this strange thing that happened between us just now.

She’s still maintaining she didn’t take it. I didn’t move it. She’s stubborn. “I’m not accusing you of stealing it.”

She snaps her head towards me.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say. Fuck. I can’t think straight being this close to her, seeing her half naked.

“You’re making a lot of accusations.”

“I’m also making a lot of apologies.”

She clears her throat. “I shouldn’t have said that to you, about you being a nightmare to work for.” I notice that this isn’t an apology. She’s not