The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,53
to splutter.
“An accident?” He rolls the pen between his thumb and forefinger, then lays it flat against my arm and, holding it by the tip, he slides it down. A sigh escapes my lips. Sweet Jesus. I don’t understand how a pen can turn my entire body into one big erogenous zone.
“Mari,” he says my name as if it’s the sexiest word alive. Just hearing it from his lips makes the breath catch in my throat. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Well, now you have it.”
“You … you think I took your pen on purpose?” My mind blanks under the spell of his scent; a combination of conifers and pines, and zesty lemon wafts over me.
We’ve never been this close before.
Not like this.
Heat rolls off him and heats my skin. My body shivers in anticipation.
I should tell him to stop.
I should ask him what he’s doing.
But then he might stop and I don’t want him to. This slow sensual pen massage holds me captive.
I should say something, because I’m innocent. “It was an accident,” I rasp as he continues to run the pen along my arms, over my silk bouse, which is way too showy for being a housekeeper, but this is all I have of my working wardrobe. The sensation is erotic. He’s not even touching me but I am so turned on. I’d do anything he asked me to.
“I don’t believe in accidents,” he murmurs, his attention on the pen as he rolls it over me, then looks to see what effect it’s having on me.
“What are you doing?” I manage to say. I’m so aroused, and this is so abnormal, I need a normal question to break us out of this insane yet beautiful foreplay.
“I have no idea.” He stops for a microsecond and eyes me. His gaze is wanton. I want to give in. To give myself. How have I never noticed how gorgeous he is? I see him properly for the first time. There’s a dusting of stubble across his face. I decide I love this look the best of all; when he looks dangerous, with a hint of wicked. Not mountain man with three inches of beard, or clean-shaven with smooth skin, but like this, dark and dangerous and brooding.
I stutter out a gasp and begin to wonder what it would be like without the pen, with just his fingers trailing all over me. He moves the pen lower, stroking my waist, making light movements from my hips to my waist and back up again.
A spiral of electric heat snakes in the base of my belly and moves lower, between my legs.
“Does it feel good?” he asks.
Another gasp escapes my mouth. “Yes …” The voice I hear isn’t mine. It’s low, and velvety, and steeped in desire. Desperation, even.
I need him—this big brooding man beast who is deliberately arousing me. And whom I am wilfully letting.
He leans further towards me, an inch, maybe two. It is raw and carnal, the energy which drips off him and washes over me. Like a sexual tsunami. Smouldering heat envelops me as I hit the desk. I shuffle and sit back, resting against it. And just as quickly I get scared and try to move off the desk in case I mess up his work. He pushes me gently back.
“Your papers,” I protest.
“Screw the papers.”
In the next moment he moves the pen to my breast, holding it like a wand, running the tip against my breast, as if he’s drawing an outline. My eyes fly wide open, my lips part. I moan as he continues to roll it back and forth, back and forth. Teasing, touching, arousing. Under my silk blouse, my nipple rises to a peak. My mouth falls open. I huff out, bite my lower lip because I don’t want him to hear me moan.
“Tell me when to stop, Mari.”
I tilt my head back slightly, but I don’t have the willpower to close my mouth. This is too sensuous. Too dirty. Too unacceptable.
I love every moment of it.
“You thought I took the pen so that I could entice you?” I ask, as the situation suddenly becomes clear to me.
“Didn’t you? You know how much it would annoy me.”
I blink.
I want to set him straight. It wasn’t a crazy ruse on my part, despite what he thinks. Something in my expression must give him a clue because his expression suddenly cools.
He stops rolling the pen over me. I want to cry out and tell him to