Page 84 of Hate You Up Close

After another thirty seconds of waiting, my patience is starting to run thin. I spin around, wondering what the hell is taking her so long.

“Roxanne, what are you–”

Shit.

Fuck. Me.

My mouth waters as my gaze lands on the bottom of Roxanne’s perfectly round ass. She’s bending over slowly, picking something up off the floor. Her dress rides up due to her dramatic bend, giving me a clear view of her toned legs and red, lacey thong. My dick twitches as I follow the thin line of her panties, disappearing between the round globes of her ass.

God, what I would give to rip those panties off and taste her right now. Sink my fingers inside of her and feel how fucking wet she is for me. I already know she’s dripping, just waiting for me to break.

And that isn't going to happen. I always win.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, lowering my hand to discreetly adjust my aching cock. I want to look away. I need to look away. But I can’t. A man only has so much willpower.

I’m fucking speechless. I have no words. I’m just staring at her, eyes wide as my dick strains against my slacks.

Finally, she stands up, straightening her dress and slinging a small, black purse over her shoulder.

She blows a few curls out of her face before giving me a surprised look, acting like she had no idea I was watching her little show.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasps, placing her hand over her heart. “I almost forgot my purse.”

I inhale a deep breath, my nostrils flaring as I try to hold onto any ounce of restraint I have left.

“Let’s go, Roxanne,” I grumble while holding the door open for her.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she hums while shuffling through the door.

Right as she passes me, she lowers her ruby lips to my ear and digs me an early grave.

“You may want to take care of this before dinner,” she whispers as I feel the faint brush of her fingertips against my dick. “It’s quite obvious,” she taunts, squeezing the tip of my erection.

I stand there still as a statue because holy fucking shit. Did she really just touch my dick? Squeeze my dick? And why do I want to drop to my knees and beg her to do it again?

I tilt my head to the ceiling, closing my eyes as I try to control my breathing. I’m two seconds away from throwing her over my shoulder, carrying her ass to my bed, stripping her naked, and fucking her until she’s screaming my name.

“Come on, Elliot,” she bellows from down the hall, distracting me from my fantasy. “We can’t be late, remember?”

Her hips sway from side to side as she walks, the thin fabric of her dress teasing me. Giving me a covered view of the perfect ass I was starting at less than a minute ago.

God help me.

“So,how long have you been at Ace Financial?” Thomas Walton, our client, asks Roxanne from across the table.

The five-star restaurant is dimly lit by warm tea lights and a low-hanging chandelier. A soft melody comes from a piano in the corner, drowning out the chatter of the wealthiest patrons in all of San Diego.

Thomas owns Walton Hotels, the largest hotel chain on the West Coast. Two of his colleagues are seated with him on the other side of the table, and they've all been openly eyeing Roxanne since we walked in. I swear I’ve barely heard a word they’ve said all night because I want to fucking rip their eyes out. And their throats.

We’ve been here for close to two hours, making small talk, and sipping on expensive liquor. I’ve kept my arm protectively slung over the back of Roxanne’s chair the entire time, even through the main course. She’s careful to keep her back straight, avoiding any skin-to-skin contact with my hand.

I hate that she’s acting repulsed by my touch, especially around these men. I want them to know she ismine.

“I’m still pretty new,” Roxanne smiles, purposely batting her eyelashes. “I started about two months ago.”

She’s been trying to piss me off this entire dinner. She’s made it blatantly obvious that she’s trying to get underneath my skin. Anytime the men show her an ounce of attention, she latches on like a leech, biting her bottom lip, and gazing up at them through dark, hooded lashes.

She knows exactly what she's doing. She knows exactly how fucking jealous I am.