Page 81 of Money Reigns
He nods. “We’re clear to move forward. Construction resumes next week.”
I smile before I can stop it.
Pride swells in my chest. Not just for the work. For the way he’s looking at me now, like I genuinely helped.
Then he’s moving.
Fast.
I let out a yelp as he grabs me by the waist and lifts me off my feet like I weigh nothing. He spins me once, laughing under his breath, and I can’t help but laugh, too, sharp and surprised.
“Warren!” I gasp.
“You smiled,” he says, like that’s justification enough. “I like when you smile.”
He kisses me.
Not rushed. Not gentle.
Just sure. Like I’m already his and I just haven’t accepted it yet. His mouth claims mine, tongue sliding deep before I can protest. My heels wobble when he lets me go, and I stumble back against the desk.
I blink, dazed, mouth parted. He scrambles my brain when I know what I need to do. I should end this.
Even if I don’t want to.
“We need to—”
“Get on the desk,” he says, low and certain.
My brain stalls.
“What?”
“I said,” he steps in, hand wrapping around my waist, voice like a fucking commandment, “get on the desk.”
I hesitate.
Hetsks.
“You were doing so well before,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Listening.”
And then he lifts me again, sets me down on the edge of his desk.
My breath catches.
No one lifts me.
The wood is cool beneath my thighs. My skirt rides up with the angle of my legs, the slit sliding high on one side. His eyes drop to it.
To what’s peeking just under.
The lace panties he bought me. The ones from the gala. I wore them without thinking.
His eyes flare when he sees them. “Oh, sweet girl.”
I flush, humiliated. “I washed them over the weekend and I—”
“You wore the panties I bought you.” His voice is pure gravel. “That little nervous stammer you do is fucking adorable.”
