Page 85 of Fighting Mr. Knight

“Do you have anything to cover nipples?” I ask breathlessly, looking around the office for miracle band-aids.

His lips quirk. “Besides my mouth, no.”

The man is impossible.

His smile slips. “But if I see any of my team leering at you, I’ll throw them out the window.”

“That’s not helpful,” I mutter, nerves bubbling in my belly. If I thought I was anxious before, now I have to do it in front of a man I just dry-humped.

“Hey,” he says softly, lifting my chin. “Whatever happens between us is separate from the project. You don’t need to worry about that. Do you trust me, Bonnie?”

I give a small shaky nod. “You’re still an asshole though to leave a girl hanging.”

“I am,” he agrees cheerily as he adjusts the massive monster tenting his pants without a shred of shame.

“And someone needs to go at you with a lawnmower,” I grumble. “I have first-degree beard burn now.”

He grins at me. “I’ll try to be gentler next time.”

There’s a next time.

I blow out a huge breath, placing my hand on my lower stomach to calm myself.

I’ve rehearsed this presentation a million times in the mirror. I even recorded an audio of myself doing it and added pauses to make it sound more authentic. I know what I’m going to say, how I will stand and what I’ll do with my hands. Everything is one hundred percent prepped.

But none of those dress rehearsals were with an aroused clit.

This is not good. I’m not wearing underwear; our most important client has rubbed me into oblivion and now I have to walk into a team of construction leads and talk about the plans for waste management of a factory.

I must look . . .fucked.

What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe it’s a nearly-thirties crisis.

Jack walks to his desk and lifts his office phone. “Jess,” he says, watching me. There’s a pause. “Rearrange the Bradshaw meeting until after lunch.”

She says something I can’t make out and he grunts in response. “Yeah, I know it’s last minute. Tell them I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as he puts down the phone. Now I can source the largest granny bra in Canary Wharf. “And thank you for trying to protect me against the truth of what happened with my dad. You should have put me in my place.”

Those pesky butterflies are back in my stomach, stronger than ever this time, as we stare at each other.

“You’re a sweet guy, Jack Knight.”

Slowly, he smiles. “About time you realised.”

Jack

Before I’ve closed the boardroom door, Bradshaw is on his feet and scuttling towards me, shaking my hand like we’re old friends. His handshake is as limp as the rest of him.

I return the pleasantries as I scan the room. Jess has arranged it in a cinema style to focus on the big screen and the presenters.

They’re all here, seated, waiting patiently—my senior team, the Bradshaw team and the architecture firm overseeing all project phases, Nixon Lee.

My gaze connects with Bonnie’s, and I smile. I’ve done fuck all work in the few hours since our meeting. At this rate, I’ll have to put my dick in a straight jacket.

Her piercing blue eyes, normally ablaze with heat, are filled with uncertainty as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

Damn it. Would she be this nervous if I’d kept my hands to myself?

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