Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
A loud curse interrupted my musings, and I looked up, peering into Bane’s office.
“Goddammit,” he roared, kicking at the desk.
Curious, I got up and bravely approached the lion. “Something wrong?” I asked.
“This bloody desk,” he replied. “I was reaching for something in the drawer, and I got a massive splinter in my hand.”
I reached for his hand he was holding, inspecting the “massive” piece of wood. He had a sliver under his skin, the area around it red with irritation. A second piece was beside it, the end sticking out.
Keeping the amusement out of my voice, I instructed him to sit and went to the bathroom, getting out the first aid kit. I sat on the desk, holding his hand under the light. Using the special tweezers I had put in the kit, I probed the area, trying to ignore his squirming.
“This will go faster if you stop moving.”
“You’re hurting me, Myers,” he grumbled.
I bit back a laugh. I had hardly touched him. “Sorry.”
I grasped the end of the smaller sliver and pulled. It came out fairly easily, hardly any tugging needed on my end.
Bane grunted in annoyance. “Can you leave my hand intact? I need it.”
“What a baby you’re being,” I admonished. “Big, bad wolf Bane, taken out by a sliver.”
“Am not,” he muttered.
“Are so,” I replied with a low laugh. “Now, sit still. This one is gonna take all my concentration.”
I grabbed a needle, and he watched anxiously as I heated it with a match then carefully picked at the skin to be able to get to the end hidden under the top layer. He grumbled and muttered the entire time, gripping my thigh.
“Okay, I’m gonna try to get it now. It should come out clean,” I lied. It was deep and the end jagged. I hoped I could get it with one pull.
I looked at him. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
“Scream if you have to,” I assured him, pressing down around the wood.
“I don’t need to— Jesus fucking Christ, Myers!” he yelled.
“Got it!” I said triumphantly.
He glared at me, standing from his chair and towering over me. I took his hand, dabbing an alcohol wipe over it, then adding a Band-Aid. “All done.”
He kept glaring, and I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed it. “There,” I crooned, desperately trying not to laugh. “All better now.”
His eyes darkened. “Not quite,” he growled and grabbed me, pulling me up to his chest and covering my mouth with his, kissing me passionately. Much too passionately for the office. But as soon as his lips touched mine, I was lost. To his scent, his heat, his mouth. His tongue tangled with mine, and he groaned low in his chest. I clutched his shoulders, gripping him tight, gasping when he pulled back.
“Now it’s all better.”
I blinked up at him. He smirked down at me.
“I have a meeting to get to, Nurse Ratched. Otherwise, I’d show you how it feels to have something hard driven into you.” He kissed me fast. “I’d make you scream too.”
“Not at the office,” I said, summoning my primmest voice.
He laughed, clearly amused. He bent, pressing his lips to my ear. “If I touched you right now, Myers, we both know how wet you’d be. How ready for me.” He nipped my lobe, then stood back, pulling me from the desk.
“Now, back to work on that budget. I need it for two o’clock.”
Then to add insult to injury, he swatted my butt as I sidled past him. But I felt his erection.
I had a feeling he was going to be a little late for his meeting, waiting for it to die down. So I wiggled against him, making him groan.
Two could play at that game.
“Enjoy your meeting,” I teased.
“You’re going to pay for that, Myers.”
“I hope so,” I replied with a wink.
He began to laugh, unable to stay annoyed. I loved that I had that effect on him.
Bane picked up his laptop, straightened his shoulders, and buttoned his jacket. He walked past me, not stopping. “We’re going to dinner tonight,” he informed me. “I have reservations. Seven. Wear one of your pretty dresses. I’ll pick you up.”
Then he was gone, not giving me the chance to reply. I knew he would go to the boardroom downstairs and sit for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before the client and his partners joined him. When he came back, he’d be starving, needing coffee and a sandwich, then throw himself into work before the next meeting.
I wondered where we were going. He rarely asked me to wear something special. I mentally went through my wardrobe, picking out the right dress. No doubt this was part of his romancing the hell out of me. He’d been very attentive the past week and, this weekend, had made me breakfast in bed again. He’d bought me flowers twice, the blooms brightening up the condo. My Monday flowers had appeared earlier, larger than normal, the scent filling the office. He was trying so hard to show me how much he cared, and I appreciated it, constantly trying to tamp down the sadness of the unspoken words. I told him I loved him every day, and he seemed to like hearing me say it—especially when we were wrapped around each other at night. And when I went back to my apartment and he called, he waited to hang up until I said the words. I hoped if I said them enough, one day, he’d say them back.