Vicious (Sinners of Saint #1)(76)

“No,” she chanted. “No. No. Rosie’s school’s here.”

“She can transfer,” I groaned, and shit, no woman had ever felt so good.

“I love New York,” Emilia panted.

“You haven’t even been to LA. You’ll like it more.”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, to which I replied, “Fuck, Emilia, fuck!” slamming my palm above her head but continuing to slide into her at the same time.

The thought of parting ways with her in three or four days was a reality I knew I had to face. I needed to go back to LA, and she wanted to stay here. I didn’t need her for my plans until my dad dropped dead. Then, I’d drag her ass back to California to scare Jo off before my dear stepmother got any ideas about claiming my dad’s money.

But I couldn’t…

I wouldn’t…

Fuck.

I thrust harder into her and felt her clenching around me. I was close. So was she. She loved torturing me. I couldn’t believe we’d once mistaken her for an innocent little Southern girl. She was wicked mean deep inside.

“You think you can do without this?” I ground into her body until every inch of her flesh burned. I knew she was probably still hurting from the tattoo, so I grabbed her head and pushed it to my chest, swirling my tongue around the shell of her ear, as I made sure her throbbing inked skin was nowhere near the hard wood. The door, not my cock.

And since when do I care?

She moaned again, her hips rolling to meet more of me, demanding I bury myself deeper inside her, and I did. The hallway outside the glass walls on either side of the doors was quiet, and I knew why.

Let them know. I didn’t give a damn.

“I was just fine before you came here.” She grazed my chin with her teeth and sank her claws into my back, her nails scraping through my dress shirt. “And I’ll be all right when you’re gone. You drove me away, Vicious. You don’t get to order me back just because you’ve had a change of heart.”

We both came at the same time and grabbed on to each other like we were about to collapse on the floor. It took us at least a full minute to recover from our orgasms, gasping while holding each other tight. She didn’t giggle or smile like she had last night when we’d gone round after round after round. I didn’t see the charm in our situation either.

Things were starting to change already, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

“So…” She was the first to speak, clearing her throat. “McDonald’s?”

“Deal’s off. You said no.” I got rid of the condom, tossing it a nearby the trash can, tucked my shirt back into my slacks and straightened my tie. I turned around and walked back to my desk. “Go get my turkey and cranberry sandwich, Miss LeBlanc. And be quick. There’s a lot of work to be done before Christmas, and I expect you back here within thirty minutes or less.”

My eyes dropped back to my computer and the merger file I was reading through when I heard the door to my office slam shut.

I was pretty sure I also heard her mutter, “Jerk.”





I HAD IT COMING.

Literally and figuratively, I’d created this mess.

Honestly, I was beginning to suspect I simply had a thing for jerks. Or at least this particular one. Case in point: Dean had been charming, nice, and polite to me, and I’d dumped him not once, but twice. Vicious was hot and cold, brutal and rude, yet I’d jumped into bed with him. Four times in six hours. And some of those times weren’t even a bed, which was a definite first for me.

What was wrong with me, allowing him to nail me against his office door?

I saw the way everyone looked at me when I left his office to get his lunch. Patty followed me with her gaze and cocked one eyebrow as I made my way to the elevator, rearranging my dress with one hand and flattening my messy hair with the other.

Then I grabbed Vicious his stupid sandwich.

If I was honest with myself, though, I had to confess I did almost come when he invited me to relocate to Los Angeles. Not because I would entertain the idea of ever moving there—this was a matter of principal; he’d kicked me out and had no right to order me back—but because he’d wanted me around.

I swirled the coffee in my Styrofoam cup with my chewed-on pen and watched him through the glass wall from across the vast reception where I hung out with Patty. The place was dead, but he still insisted that we work the full day.

Vicious was pacing in his office, talking on the phone, which was on speaker, always on speaker, though we couldn’t hear a word from outside.

Patty asked if I could go into his office real quick and see if she could leave early, because she needed to start preparing food for Christmas Eve tomorrow.