Page 18 of SINS & Riley (Dante & Riley #2)
ZVER
T he door slams open.
My little spitfire of a captive lights up the room and invades my space with the finesse of a nuke.
Apparently my keeping my distance for the past ten days wasn’t enough of a hint. Uninvited and unapologetic, she storms up to my desk, all curves and fury.
My cock is instantly hard.
An issue I intend to remedy soon.
“Did you hurt him?” She cries.
I don’t answer. Not because I’m dodging the question.
But because I’m too busy drinking her in like a man starved, and two seconds from sinking my teeth into her like she’s prey.
She’s a storm, wild and untamed.
Hair tangled. Cheeks flushed. Her entire wardrobe streaked in flour and smeared with sticky fingerprints courtesy of Dominic’s sugar gremlins.
Her Eff Cardio, I Run With Wolves tee stretches tight across her full tits, rising and falling with every breath.
Cardio, huh? I’ll give her cardio.
She smells like cannolis, coated in enough chocolate and sugar to flatline a diabetic at twenty yards. It dusts my desk the second she slams her palms down on it.
“Answer me!” she demands.
God, this woman’s brand is straight up suicidal. And all I can think about is licking the mess off her skin like salt off a margarita glass.
My lips twitch. “What was the question?”
Her glare sharpens, adorably lethal. “You heard me.”
I lean back, tapping steepled fingers against my chin. “Did I hurt who? You’ll have to be more specific.”
Her jaw sets. “The doctor. Did you hurt him?”
The doctor. Again with that asshole. “You should be less worried about him, Zapretnaya , and more worried about you.”
I press a button under my desk.
The door behind her shuts.
She whips around. Then back to me.
“This is the point in our conversation where you should be on your knees.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again, ripe with a tangle of words. “It wasn’t his fault. I made him do it. I?—”
“How did you find my office?”
Considering this place is wired with more cameras than a hot tub on The Bachelor , I should know everything about Riley.
Yet somehow, all the footage from yesterday is mysteriously gone.
When I pressed Dominic about it, he muttered something about my growing paranoia and that technical glitches happen.
Do they?
“I, uh…” Her voice falters, snagging in that pretty throat I ache to bury myself in.
“If you lie,” I warn, low and sharp, “you’ll only make it worse.”
Her mouth seals shut, swallowing the pretty lie before it can escape.
I rise, slow enough to make her squirm.
My cock strains against my pants, seconds from shredding the fabric, and her eyes—those big, defiant green eyes—snap wide before looking away.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice trembles, thin and breathless.
“Getting answers.”
I slide open the drawer and close my fist around what I want.
The second I pull it free, her pupils blow wide. She freezes—breath snagging, throat bobbing. Every inch of her body locks between fight and flight.
If there’s a God, she’ll fight.
I weigh the wooden ruler in my palm, testing her response.
A blush races up her neck, blooming hot across her cheeks.
Perfect.
And exactly what she wrote in Journal Entry Twelve.
Where’s the big, bad wolf with his threats? What I really need is a punishment. You know the kind.
Palms pressed to wood.
Skirt hiked up.
Bent over on a fucking desk.
Bring it on, asshole.
And of course, she signed off the way she always does: And Zver can go fuck himself.
She also went into enough filthy detail to nearly snap my dick in half, so she gets what she gets.
If being my captive doesn’t pan out, she’s got a hell of a future writing porn.
The ruler cracks against my palm, the sound ricocheting like a gunshot.
She flinches and takes half a step back. But doesn’t run.
At least, not yet.
I close the distance, and lower my voice.
“Answer me, Ms. Mullvain…or I’ll shove every last dirty fantasy you ever imagined straight down your throat.”