Page 76 of The Colour of Revenge
“Maybe tone it down just a little, Princess,” I murmur, though internally I’m revelling in her possessiveness. God, she’s sexy when she’s ready to kill someone. I should probably be playing peacemaker, but honestly? I love this.
Carina pouts—pouts—before calling back the homicidal glare. Then she flashes a bright, saccharine smile, that’s somehow even more terrifying.
“That will be all,” she says in that syrupy tone.
Siena practically trips over herself as she scurries out of the room, leaving the door ajar in her haste.
I exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. Fucking hell. My temples throb from the sheer absurdity of that situation. I drag a hand down my face before gazing at the beautiful menace.
“I am so—” I start, but Carina waves a hand, cutting me off.
“All good. I’m not mad at you.”
I arch a brow. “Sure?” I step closer, sliding my arms around her waist, my hands resting just above the curve of her ass.
Her icy blue eyes lock onto mine, searching—maybe for deception, maybe for hesitation. She finds neither.
“Sure,” she says, lips curving into a wicked grin. “Now, show me what it is you do here.”
Relief seeps into my bones. Crisis averted.
I guide her toward my desk, half-expecting her to perch on the edge. Instead, she hesitates for a fraction of a second before lowering herself onto my lap.
Heat. Pressure. The weight of her against me.
Fuck.
The warmth of her body melts into mine, and suddenly, focusing on my work becomes a fucking herculean task. Still, I bring up the files and reports, my fingers moving across the keyboard in practised efficiency.
For an hour, she sits snugly in my lap, her body fitting against me like she was always meant to be there. The curve of her back brushes my chest every time she leans closer to the screen, and her soft hums of interest filter through the otherwise silent office.
She’s engrossed, but I’m losing the ability to think.
Every shift of her hips is a slow kind of torture, a deliberate grind against my now painfully hard cock. My body has been straining for relief since the moment she settled on me, and I know—I fucking know—that she’s doing it on purpose.
Then she shifts again, pressing down just right, and a low grunt rumbles from my throat.
She laughs—softly, sultry, sinfully.
She knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Careful, Princess,” I warn, my voice rough with restraint. “Or I might take you over my desk right now.”
Her answer? Another slow, teasing grind.
I snap.
In one swift motion, I shove my laptop aside, pressing her chest flat against the desk.
“You want this?” My voice is low, dangerous. A final check before I lose myself completely.
Her breathless whimper cuts through the air. “God, yes.” She arches her ass toward me, her desperation igniting something primal in my blood.
She’s fucking perfect.
“You’ll have to keep quiet so no one comes in to check on us, baby.”
I flick my gaze to the slightly ajar door left open by that crazy bitch Siena. This idea is terrible, but I’m too far gone to care.
