“If there is something you need, all you have to do is ask for it, sweetheart. We don’t just take things.” He cups my sex again. I’m so turned on that I can feel my own arousal coating the insides of my thighs.
“Please,” I breathe out. “Warren.” I open my eyes and look back at him. Everything inside of me stills for a moment when my eyes meet his. The desire and need on his face for me brings out a longing deep inside of me. Emotions that I try to keep shoved down as far as I can.
“That’s all you had to do. I’ll always give you what you ask for.” His fingers find my clit before I can open my mouth and be a smartass once again. I’m already too primed that it doesn't take much. The pressure alone is almost enough to send me over the edge.
I cry out his name as the orgasm takes over. It feels as though it’s a wave crashing down on me, and I can’t catch my breath. It keeps going, taking me under, the pleasure and bliss consuming me. It’s been too long since I’ve experienced any of those things. A tear escapes from me.
My legs start to buckle, but I don’t hit the ground. Warren moves me. I feel the panties slide back up my legs as he releases the tie from my wrists. He lifts me easily into his arms.
I slowly open my eyes after a long moment. My head is resting on his shoulder, his fingers trailing gently up and down my arms.
He hasn’t tried to do anything else. I’ve been bent over the desk, bound and more turned on than I have ever been in my life. Hell, more than I thought was humanly possible. I likely would have let him do anything. I lift my head, my eyes meeting his.
What the hell have I done now? There is no going back. I’ve crossed the point of no return.
Chapter Twelve
Warren
“The paperwork for the Park Hill deal is almost done, and I’ll have it delivered to you this afternoon. We have some hits on the black SUV that we’re running down. The police aren’t much help, but the guy who owns the tech company on the top floor, Maxim somebody, is working on some kind of character recognition thing. I don't really understand it, but he thinks that by overlaying photos from the CCTV and comparing the pixelated shapes with the image database we will be able to somehow identify the license plate of the SUV. I don’t think it can be done, but he's pretty confident. That means we should be able to get back into the office sometime next week probably.”
“There’s no rush,” I tell Connor. “We’re not in any hurry.”
“Less than 24 hours ago you were mad that we were working at home and wanted to bring back stoning,” he squawks.
“I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten in a while, and my temper got the better of me. Take your time. Did you get the set I asked for?”
“Yes, it’s on its way.”
“Perfect.” I disconnect the call. I allow myself to run my eyes over Leila once more. I flex my fingers, remembering the soft, hot feel of her. Our encounter yesterday hadn't fulfilled me. If anything, I am more ravenous than I was before, but the little sex play took the edge off. Even though I know I could have taken her, I didn’t. I want her desire to equal mine. I want her need to be relentless so that when I do have her, it will be something that she remembers and wants for the rest of her life.
I’m playing a long game here, denying us something we both want, but it’s the right move. There’s still wariness in her eyes when she looks at me, as well as something darker. I suspect I could spend fifty years exploring her depths and always come away surprised, which is why I am not rushing things. We’re playing here, and the anticipation that builds with each unfulfilled moment that passes will result in something spectacular. I’m looking forward to it, and even if Leila won’t admit it, she’s eager too. This whole morning, she hasn’t been able to sit still, shifting in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs. There’s an ache inside of her that she can’t get rid of by herself because I put it there and I’m the only one that can ease that sweet pain. For now, though, I think we need a distraction.
“Tell me about yourself, Leila. Is your family close?”
Her head swings up sharply. “M-my family?”
“Yes. I know you said your parents have passed away, but do you have aunts or uncles or cousins? Siblings?”
She tosses her pen on the table she’s set up as her workstation on. “What’s the point of this?”
My brows come together. “The point is to get to know you.”
“What about your family? You’ve never talked about them.” Her voice is almost accusatory.
I rub my ear. I guess she’s right. “My parents live most of the year in Miami in a condo that overlooks the ocean. In the summer, it’s too hot so they’ll go to Maine. Although in the past couple of years, Mom has developed this thing for Ireland. She wants to buy a castle there. It’s a big point of conflict for the two of them because my dad says hell no. I’ve got an uncle in New York and an aunt in New Jersey. My cousins are scattered along the East Coast. One of them is on the writing staff for Comic Hour. You heard of that?”
“Yes, actually.”
“You might have heard Bitsy’s jokes then. She’s funny as hell. Let’s see. What else?” I steeple my fingers and tap the tips together. “I’m thirty-four, run Hugo Realty. That’s my pop’s name. He was in residential all of his life and I moved it to commercial. Single. Never been married. Never wanted to be married. No girlfriend although I do have some female friends like Christina, but we’re not a couple and never have been. Just friends. Your turn.”
“You hungry?” she says unexpectedly. She pushes to her feet and walks to the door of my office. “I’m going to make a sandwich. Let me know if you want one.”
I stare at the empty doorway in befuddlement. She does not want to talk about her past. In fact, she’d rather make up a lie about wanting to eat than tell me a personal story. It’s a damned red flag that tells me I should not only kick her out of my house but tell the temp agency to take her back even if it gets me blacklisted. I drop my eyes to my lap where my dick is still semi-hard. Giving her the boot is out of the question, so I guess I’ll have to find the answers to mystery girl’s life on my own.
Halfway to the kitchen, the doorbell rings. The courier at the door presents me with a large box and two big envelopes. The envelopes are work related, but the box is my gift. Maybe this will grease the wheels, so to speak, and get Leila to open up.
I carry the package into the kitchen and lay it on the counter. Leila gives me a bright but very fake smile.
“Sandwich?” she asks, gesturing toward the bread and mayo and meat in front of her.
“How about you hold off for a moment and open this.” I nudge the box closer to her. She stares at it in apprehension. “It’s not going to bite you, I promise.”
She still doesn’t move, so I slice off the tape and push aside the cardboard flaps. I lift out a large wooden case and place it in front of her.
“All work and no play can make Leila a dull girl,” I tease and remove the lid. Nestled inside a silk lined cavity are the pieces of a chess set made out of pink and black marble. I gently tug the pink queen from her resting spot. “Only the best for the queen of chess.”