Page 8 of The Dragon in the Corner Office (Monstrous New York #1)
Chapter 8
F uck me.
I thought the weekend away from the office and, more importantly, away from Antoinette, was enough to squelch this annoying attraction to her.
Boy, was I wrong.
My cock jerks to life and I have to slow the speed on the treadmill as she saunters into the corporate gym on the fortieth floor.
Black leggings cling to the flare of her hips like a second skin. Unconsciously, my eyes wander to the mirrored wall behind her, lingering on the way the material stretches around each round globe of her ass. Each cheek is definitely more than a handful, mouthwatering dimples visible through the tight fabric.
I’m an ass man. Self-proclaimed, of course.
And Antoinette Bauer has an ass sailors would cross a stormy sea to bear witness to. It’s a thing of beauty.
Pulling my gaze from the subtle bounce and sway of her backside, my attention is drawn to the neon purple strappy contraption holding in her ample breasts. How the fuck did she even get into that thing? And more importantly, how do I get it off her?
No , we’re not attracted to this fiery woman. She hates you and probably wishes you were never born… remember?
As she comes to a stop next to the treadmill, my gaze lingers on the cleavage visible over the low neckline of her sports bra. With a sweaty palm, I hit the emergency stop button, and the belt slows. My sneakers squeak to a halt before I trip over my damn tongue.
“Good morning, Ms. Bauer. Did you take my advice and relax yesterday?” Still panting from my run, my voice is raspier than usual, and I don’t miss the slight shiver when it rattles Antoinette’s delicate, yet toned shoulders.
Her perfectly arched dark eyebrows pull together before she pinches her eyes shut and blows out a breath, fingers digging into the foam of her yoga mat. Lips moving rapidly, she murmurs something to herself .
Okay.
Right as I’m about to say her name again, her lids spring open, revealing vertical slit pupils surrounded by metallic irises that glow brighter than the sun. If I’m not careful, those eyes will hypnotize me into doing some very bad things.
Very bad things, indeed.
Her lips pull into a tight smile, those dainty fingers clutching her yoga mat. “Good morning, Mr. Wilcox. I did. And I apologize for disturbing you yesterday. I hope your wife forgives me.”
Wife. One eyebrow arches at the word. “Wife? I’m not married.”
A look of almost elation flits across her face, and her rigid posture softens slightly. “My mistake. I assumed you were married when you said you spend Sunday with your family.”
A barked laugh breaks free from my mouth, the sound bouncing around the quiet gym. “You thought I was married. I can assure you, Antoinette, I’m on the same sinking ship as you—married to my job.”
Her plump pink lips form a perfect O that has my heart rate picking up speed.
And my cock doing the thinking as I imagine shoving the thick shaft into the hollow space between those perfect lips.
Until her teeth clack together and the muscle in her jaw ticks. “Again, my mistake. Enjoy the rest of your workout.” The dismissal in her clipped tone is obvious, made even more apparent as she spins in her flip-flop sandals and retreats to the other end of the gym.
Unrolling her yoga mat, she mutters under her breath as she fiddles with her phone and begins her yoga flow. At this point, I’m too confused—and oddly aroused—to focus on anything besides her, so I turn the treadmill to a low speed and walk. The whole time, my eyes remain glued to Antoinette’s body. She bends and dips in every possible contortionist position, which only increases the blood flow to my groin.
She actually thought I was married. I shake my head and one corner of my mouth curves into a smile. In what world would I have time for a spouse or kids? I’m at the office before the sun rises most mornings, not leaving until it’s already set most nights.
One thing I admire about the woman is the work ethic and drive we seem to share. Although, it’s a double-edged sword. I’m in my late thirties and I’m utterly alone, besides Maggie and Lily.
Antoinette’s misjudgment brings a nagging pain to the surface… Do I want a spouse? A partner to share my life with?
I rub at the spot over my heart, attempting to ease the uncomfortable tightness in my chest .
For some reason, my eyes wander back to Antoinette. She has all the qualities I would want in a partner: independent, motivated, hardworking, intelligent, financially stable, and gorgeous.
The only problem is this constant need for competition between us.
Sweat drips down my neck, soaking into the thin, athletic shirt I have on. The fabric clinging to my drenched skin has nausea rising in my stomach, so I grip the shirt at the back of my neck and pull it off. More salty perspiration cascades down my now exposed chest as I mop my skin with the shirt.
A squeak from across the gym has my head whipping up, only to lock onto a pair of luminous, fire-filled eyes.
As our gazes connect, Antoinette’s normally olive skin flushes a beautiful pink.
Caught you, princess.
My mouth tips into a crooked smirk. Chuckling, I run the wadded-up shirt down my glistening abs, chasing a trail of sweat. She doesn’t even blink as her eyes follow my hand. Smoke puffs out of her pert nose, something I’ve only witnessed when she’s angry.
Right now, she looks anything but angry, skin flushed and chest heaving, pushing those tantalizing tits against the confines of her bra.
As soon as my hand reaches the waist of my athletic shorts, tugging them down ever-so-slightly, Antoinette huffs a breath, then scrambles to grab her mat and phone before stomping past me. “Asshole.”
My booming laughter fills the sweat-slicked air as the door slams shut behind her. “Oh, princess. It’s on.”
She’s attracted to me, and it’s clear she doesn’t want to be. I’m about to push her to her breaking point, because I can barely remember what started this damn war between us, but I’m going to be the one to end it—whether she likes it or not.
B y the time I’ve showered and dressed—and beaten my aching cock into submission—Antoinette is already seated at her desk, deep in conversation with Penelope. With the O’Malley contract clutched in one hand, I tuck my free hand into the pocket of my gray slacks, loafers clicking on the tiled floor as I approach her desk.
“Good morning, ladies.” I make sure to add a little extra pep to my voice and plaster a sunny smile on my face. “Ms. Bauer, I believe you were looking for these yesterday. Everything is up to my standards and ready for O’Malley’s signature.”
The subtle roll of her eyes has me stifling a laugh. Oh, she fucking hates me .
“If you’re free this morning, I have a lead on another property. You’re welcome to join me,” I offer. Tensions have been high between us, so I’ll be the one to extend an olive branch. Not that she’s likely to accept it.
“I can go with,” Penelope offers on her way to the office door, jumping in before Antoinette can even open her mouth. Penelope’s eyes swing between me and Antoinette. Finally landing on Antoinette, she continues. “You have that meeting with accounting. Remember?” Her blonde eyebrows rise so subtly; I almost miss it.
Is she trying to keep us apart? Interesting .
“Oh. Yes,” Antoinette says, pulling up the calendar on her computer monitor.
Well, I’ll be damned. There is actually a meeting scheduled in a few minutes.
Swinging her chair back toward me, I’m met by her penetrative golden gaze. “It’s about the budget for the O’Malley warehouse. Nothing you need to worry about.” Her face morphs into a smug expression, like she’s better than me because she found this perfect property.
Joke’s on her. “Save some money for the rest of us. I think my lead is a property the board would love to get their hands on.”
Pride radiates from me when she crosses her arms over her chest and rolls her eyes once more. “Is that so?” The double membrane on her eyes closes, then opens, tamping down the irritation evident in her stare.
I smirk. “Yes. Mr. Andrews said to find a property to wow them. I’m not putting all my eggs in that shit-hole warehouse of yours. I prefer my own basket, since I’d like some of them to hatch when this is all said and done.”
Oh, that pisses her off. There are flames roaring in her gorgeous eyes, and I can’t tear my gaze off her, even when thick smoke begins to pour from her nostrils.
“Oh, shit,” Penelope whispers, sidling up next to me with a mug in her hands. “What did you say?” Her voice is a hiss as she sets the mug on the corner of Antoinette’s desk.
In the blink of an eye, she dashes out of the office, returning a moment later with a big red fire extinguisher clutched in her shaking hands. “Annie. He didn’t mean it.” Glaring blue eyes snap toward me, then back toward Antoinette. “Breathe for me, Annie. In and out. Nice and slow.”
It’s at that moment, I realize Antoinette’s chest isn’t moving, like she’s holding her breath.
Suddenly, her chest heaves, and she sucks in a huge lungful of air. After a few more big breaths, the smoke dissipates.
She grabs the mug and chugs the contents. “Thank you, Pen,” she gasps, setting the empty mug on the desktop. “At least I didn’t set anything on fire this time.” Her laughter is clipped, her smile forced .
“Silver lining?” Penelope shrugs. “Come on, Mr. Wilcox. Let’s not add insult to injury.” She nods toward the door, and I follow behind her with one last backward glance at Antoinette. Her eyes are shut, and her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.