Page 25

It didn’t matter. I had a plan. Go to work, do my job, keep my head down and my mind focused.

I’d do my work and ignore him. It couldn’t be that hard. For the last two months, I’d become adept at acting like Bennett didn’t bother me one bit.

“You can do this,” I muttered to no one except the view of the parking garage outside my windshield. Peeling my fingers from my steering wheel, I stretched the ache out of my knuckles and grabbed my purse and work bag, repeating. “You can do this.”

Hopefully, I actually could.

* * *

Bennett charged into work like someone was holding his sister (if he even had one) for ransom, and he was taking no prisoners in his quest to kill the maniacs while ripping apart the world in his search for her. And...perhaps I’d been watching too many dramatic action movies. Which wasn’t the point.

I was still going to kill him. The next time he growled my name as he prowled by my office, not bothering to look at me as he snapped, “Miss Morales, my office,” in a way that left little room for me to say one stinking word like he’d done two seconds ago, I was going to leap from my chair, wrap my manicured fingers around his throat, and choke the arrogance and breath out of him.

Needless to say, Miranda’s dress ensemble failed to do what she said it would. It wasn’t driving him crazy. He hadn’t even glanced at me long enough to see what I was wearing.

It shouldn’t have bothered me, but as I stood and smoothed the red skirt down my thighs, it did.

Because damn it, I’d wanted him to walk into the office, maybe stutter a bit, or trip over his feet. I wanted his eyes to trail down my body in that way it had when he’d made me orgasm for the fourth time. Or maybe that one had been a really long third one. See? I was still so messed up and twisted and he truly didn’t care.

What an idiot I’d been.

Now I had to face him for the umpteenth time that day, already having worked through the lunch because the proposal I’d done on New Year’s Eve had been less than impeccable, sit in front of him across from his desk while he barked orders at me without bothering to look up from his desk.

And that damn tingle of arousal that had hit me in the car still hadn’t dissipated. If anything, every time he growled my name like he wanted to rip my head off, increased it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I grabbed my iPad, notebook, and pen off my desk and made my way to his office like a man on his way to the electric chair.

His fingers were wildly tapping on the keyboard of his laptop and I forced my gaze to a blank spot on his desk. Those damn fingers. I still remembered the way he moved them inside me. Thick, strong. And when he’d held my hands down with those same hands maniacally pounding away on his keys, I’d never felt more centered in my life.

I had to murder him. It was the only way possible I was ever going to forget the other night.

I slipped into the leather chair opposite his sleek, black desk and waited until he stopped typing. Every moment I waited, that tingle turned to a throb until I was certain he could smell how turned on I was. His dark eyes narrowed on the computer, his hair mussed like he’d been scrubbing it all day, and his scruff along his cheeks all gave hints at his frustration. But it was his dress shirt, crisp and white and rolled up and pushed to the elbows I couldn’t pull my gaze away from. Veins popped on his arms, tendons bunched as he typed.

I’d experienced the strength of those arms intimately. I’d slid my tongue along the inside of his wrist. I’d bitten into a chunk of muscle hidden beneath the collar of his shirt.

And to him, I was a meaningless one-night stand.

Regret pummeled into my chest at the same time he pushed the computer away and turned to me.

“Where are you on the proposal?”

Not even a hello. Or a question. Just a demand. They weren’t nearly as sexy as they were when we were naked.

Stop thinking about that!

“I’m almost done. I’ll have it to you by the morning.” Which meant staying until at least nine o’clock tonight to complete it. But for once, I wasn’t upset about having to work late. If I went home, I’d smell the lingering scent of his cologne. When I walked into my room, I’d remember the way he spanked me while I’d braced myself against my wall. I’d done all of that willingly and now, sitting in front of him, his dark brown eyes blanked of any emotion, I’d never felt more like a fool.

Anger burned in my eyes and I dropped my gaze to my lap. “What else do you need, Bennett?”

I’d dropped the Mr. Ashby the first time he called me into his office. If he cared that I was no longer addressing him the way I’d done since I’d been promoted, he said nothing.

The tapping of a pen on the desk got my attention and I lifted my gaze. He was staring at me, his gaze penetrating even if he didn’t show emotion.

A muscle jumped in his jaw before he turned to his computer. He clicked the mouse. “Schedule an appointment for Thursday afternoon so I can meet with Anderson Jakobs regarding the proposal. I want this nailed down immediately. Also, that morning, I have an hour opening to go over the town home complex with Ryan. Friday afternoon is the groundbreaking ceremony for Rolling Heights.”

I was busy scribbling down all of his notes, my pen scratching so hard on my paper it also cut through. The anger hadn’t dissipated and I was still blinking back tears in my eyes when I realized he’d stopped talking.