Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
And why does someone who is in the mafia listen to Kenzo?
Marco seems to have respect for him. He stays clear now of any personal contact regarding me, which I don’t mind.
“Mayve, you have someone here for you,” Emma, my secretary, says. Yes, I have a secretary and my very own office. Emma is new, so she isn’t subject to the gossip about me, at least not yet, which I like. And I like her.
“I don’t have an appointment,” I tell her, rechecking my calendar.
“Do I need one?” My head flies up at that voice, and Emma smiles at me. I give her a half-smile back and stand, my chair rolling out from under me as I do.
“Thanks, Emma.” She nods and goes back to her desk.
Kenzo steps into my office and shuts the door behind him. I go to sit back down, but my chair has moved and somehow, I just catch myself before falling to the floor.
Shit.
“Is this office part of the promotion?” Kenzo asks, looking around.
“Are you here for the divorce?” I ask, hopeful. His fingers touch the frame that holds my diploma, and he drags them over it as he steps closer. When he reaches my side of the desk, he stops and turns to give me his full attention.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
I go to open my mouth to answer, but a knock comes on the door, and then it swings open. Jeff enters and smiles when he sees Kenzo.
“Oh, I heard you were here. I wanted to say hello and to tell you what an amazing job Mayve is doing. Honestly, I should have promoted her long ago.” I smile at that. He probably didn’t even think to promote me before I asked. I kept to myself and just did my work. I’m sure Jeff more than likely forgot I even worked here unless he saw me.
Kenzo steps closer, smiles, and places a hand on my waist. I don’t pull away or tell him to remove it as Jeff smiles at his actions.
“And Marco has invited the firm to one of his functions this weekend. I hope you can both make it.”
“I’m not sure—”
“We can. I’ll clear my work schedule,” Kenzo interrupts me, accepting the invitation.
Jeff seems happy with Kenzo’s answer, and so he says goodbye and leaves.
I remain in Kenzo’s hold until I count to ten, and when I turn to face him, I realize I made a big mistake. His mouth descends on mine, pressing our lips together. I feel his kiss, and my body reacts straight away, abandoning all logical thought because, despite who this man is, I like it when he touches me.
Son of a bitch.
His free hand grips the other side of my waist, pulling me into him. Now, there is no space left between our bodies. I can feel all the dips and ridges of his chest, abs, and everything else in between.
My hands hang at my sides. They want to move, but I keep telling myself, No, don’t do it. And then Kenzo does this thing where his tongue slides in my mouth, and he moans ever so slightly. And that’s when they finally give in, lifting to grip his shirt.
Betrayed.
But oh my God, I can feel myself start to heat, my whole body on fire at his touch. It wants whatever he can give me. And then some. I stand a little straighter and press my lower half into him for some unknown reason. He’s taller than me, but with heels on, I can feel him right where I need him.
This time, it’s me who groans.
And he takes that as encouragement, as his hands pull me in tighter.
Shit.
How do I stop this?
Do I want to stop this?
I can’t remember the last time a man made everything in me buzz as much as his touch can. A kiss, and I’m ready to spread my legs for this man.
Even knowing what he does to get off.
I pull back, and he lets me, relaxing his grip on me.
I count to ten, ever so slowly in my head.
One. This is not a smart thing to do.
Two. I can’t want him.
Three. He needs to stay away from me.
Four. Why do I want him to put me on the desk and have his way with me?
“I can if you want,” he says.
My counting stops, and I look up. Kenzo moved while I was counting and is sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk. He taps the wooden surface. “Get up here, remove those wet panties, spread those legs, and let me have dessert.”
I gape at him.
“I’m on my period,” I say.
“Even better.” He winks.
Fuck me.
Fuck. Me.
“I just offered you that,” he says, once again replying to something I didn’t intend to say aloud.
“That’s disgusting, you know that, right?” I wave a hand. “What you just offered.”