Bastard In Suit(3)

Well, shit, would it kill him to ask for it politely? Duke Kingston may have the Midas Touch but his verbal communication skills could use some finesse.

I lean toward him, aware my chest practically rests on the boardroom table.

I set the device in Duke’s hand—Jesus, his hand is massive. Smooth, strong, powerful. I have a sudden irrational urge to feel his hand on other parts of me.

His palm stroking up my leg, pushing up my skirt…

My fingers touch his and a small thrill runs along my spine. I pull back as though I’ve been burned.

Duke turns the MicroTracker over in his hand and holds it up to the light. “What version is this?”

I swallow hard. “This is our third prototype.”

His free hand brushes along his dark beard. The beard is clipped, impeccably groomed, and naturally draws my gaze to his full, thick lips. I imagine those lips burrowing between my thighs.

Jesus. I grip the sides of my chair so tight, my knuckles go white.

“A device this small would require a miniscule battery,” Duke says. He finally looks at me again and my pulse ratchets up. His lip twists into a cocky smirk. “Have you also developed the world’s smallest battery?”

“Admittedly, this is one of the obstacles we’re hopeful you can help us overcome. Currently, the battery will last a couple of hours, but of course we’d like to increase that.”

“Of course,” Duke says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. It shouldn’t matter, but his disinterest stings. He leans over to hand back the tracker. I’m careful not to let our hands touch, which is awkward.

Duke quirks an eyebrow. Damn if my stomach doesn’t do a slow roll.

“The battery issue isn’t much of a barrier considering our other advantages,” I tell him, trying to sound authoritative.

“I’m aware of a tracking device with a battery that runs close to four months continuously,” Duke says. “So I might be inclined to disagree with your optimism. A couple of hours is a joke.”

“We’re not perfect. If we were, what would we need you for?” I reply, and then instantly regret the biting tone of my response.

But Duke is unruffled and moves on as if I haven’t said a word. “How does your device interact in areas where there is limited Wi-Fi, or in a building like this where the signal will be interrupted due to sophisticated security?” he says.

Finally, a question I’m prepared for. “We can demonstrate how it works.”

He pushes back his chair and stands.

Is he dismissing us? Is it over before it even really began?

He walks to the door without a word, leaving the three of us to exchange questioning shrugs. Less than a minute later, Duke returns with a young man, mid-twenties, who looks slightly confused.

“Attach the GPS unit to Kyle’s shirt collar,” Duke says. “I’ve instructed him to travel to the most secure areas of the building. I assume you have software that will track his progress?”

“We can pull it up on the tablet,” Jake says, and powers up his iPad.

“I’ll attach the GPS,” I say, already moving toward Kyle, anxious for something to do with my hands.

Duke steps between us. He’s big, enormous, so muscled that he seems more like a brick wall. I’m inches from his chest, close enough to breathe in his scent. It’s earthy and tantalizing. Expensive. I take it all in.

I hand over the tracker and wipe my clammy hands on the side of my skirt. “Do you want me to walk you through how to fasten it?”

Duke’s lip curls. “I think I’ve got an idea how to stick something where it belongs.” And then his gaze slides toward me and I feel myself grow wet between my legs.

Stick something where it belongs.

I flash on an image of him sticking his massive cock where it might belong—fucking me from behind as I scream wildly.

Scream his name.

Right in this office.

My breath catches as I come back to reality. My heart is racing so fast I feel dizzy.

Duke fastens the device to Kyle’s collar, murmurs a series of instructions, and then the kid’s gone. Back at the boardroom table, Jake’s pulled up the tracking software. A small green dot pulses across the screen with precise coordinates that map exactly where Kyle is and every step he makes.

I can’t help but feel a swell of pride at our work, despite all of my fear.

“That’s Kyle there,” Forrest says, pointing.

“I had no idea,” Duke says, dryly.

My hands curl into fists at my side. Duke Kingston may be sexy as fuck, but he’s a dick. And if this meeting wasn’t so important to me—to us—I’d tell him as much. I bite my tongue instead, and hover behind Jake to watch Kyle’s progress on the monitor.