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Jesus Christ.
Obviously, I knowexactlywhat Kyra is doing.
I run a hand through my hair and grind my teeth while my cock thickens inside my Tom Ford pants. Thank god, I’m sitting at the boardroom table and not standing in front of the room.
I’m going to fucking strangle her!
CHAPTER TWELVE
MADDOX
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I barge into Kyra’s room—fuck, my room—and find her lying on the bed, still naked, with her legs crossed at her ankles.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” I demand, rolling up the sleeves of my white business shirt.
Her head slowly turns from the ceiling to face me. “Baking a cake. What does it look like?”
I lift a brow.
“Don’t be sarcastic. It’s not attractive.”
She snorts.
The hell?
“I mean this.” I wave my hand at her body. “Whatever this is, you need to stop. Now, get up and get dressed.”
“No, thanks.” Kyra turns her head and returns her focus to the ceiling. “Do you think that’s an imperfection in the paintwork?”
I frown.
And glance up.
“What?”
“Up there. The small black dot. I think you need to repaint this ceiling. It’s bothering me.”
Jesus Christ.
I stride across the room, the door banging behind me, and Kyra leaps in the air. Her legs swing over the bed, and I catch her inevitable fall and steady her on her feet.
Fuck, do not touch any of her bits.
Her sexy-as-fucking-Hadesbits.
“I told you not to play with me. What did you think was going to happen after your little window show today?” I growl.
I feel her start to shake under my hands as I try to ignore her perky breasts and the gentle curves of her petite body.
“I don’t know.” Kyra swallows.
She’s scared of me, and I like it.
I narrow my eyes and know they’re as black as night as I let them dip down her body. The small triangle of hair between her legs is dark and calling to me.
My cock hardens further, because it's not softened since the moment I watched the video, and before I can stop myself, I ask. “Were you thinking about me while your juices dripped from your body today?”