Page 305 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

I look past him to find a pissed-off Knight standing with his hands on his hips.

His hair is standing up like he’s been running his fingers through the strands.

He’s wearing a T-shirt that must have been white at some point, but is so threadbare, it molds to his ridiculously sculpted chest, showing off the dents between those delicious abs.

He completes the ensemble with jogging shorts—that cling lovingly to his powerful thighs.

Patches of sweat dampen his chest, and glisten at his temples.

He looks virile and strong and like porn on two legs.

Moisture bathes my pussy, the pulse between my legs speeds up.

Gah, stop looking at him like you want to climb him.

I nod toward the Great Dane. "Doesn’t he belong to Liam and Isla? ”

He nods.

“So why is he with you?”

The muscles at his jaw tick. The skin stretches across his cheekbones.

He looks like he’s about to snap my head off.

Instead, he stalks past me and toward the kitchen, where he grabs a glass from one of the shelves and fills it with water from the tap.

Then hesitates. He places his glass on the counter, bends and pulls out a serving bowl.

He fills it with water, then walks over to the side of the kitchen and places it on the floor.

He straightens and snaps his fingers. The dog woofs, then jumps up, licking my face for good measure, before he gambols off in the direction of the man.

He reaches Knight, then parks himself on his haunches with a heavy sigh.

He looks up at Knight, who glares back. The two engage in some kind of staring match, then Tiny whines.

"I think he’s waiting for you to tell him it’s okay to drink the water."

Knight hesitates, then stabs his finger at the bowl on the floor. "Drink up, now."

Instantly, Tiny flops down on the floor and begins to lap at the bowl noisily. I walk over to stand next to the dog. “Such a good boy.”

The Great Dane slaps his tail into the ground in response.

“Is he going to stay with you?”

Knight frowns. "It would seem that way."

Tiny finishes drinking water, then places his big head between his front feet and looks up at Knight with big, soulful eyes.

"Aww, he likes you."

"So?" Knight snaps then draws in a breath. "Sorry, I’m not happy about this situation."

"Never would have guessed that," I scoff.

"It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you."

I blink in surprise. Who is this man, apologizing to me?

He drags his fingers through his hair so more of it stands on end.

My fingers tingle. And oh, god, I want to jump on him, wrap my legs around his waist, and reach up and smooth out the errant strands.

When he’s considerate—like now-- I want to lick his face and when he’s being obnoxious his appeal only increases.

Watching Knight glower at the dog, I truly understand why Hermione was so attracted to Draco.

It’s the same reason why I can’t take my gaze off this complex, wounded grumphole.

It’s the appeal of an unlikely pairing. It’s the unabashed need to unlock his hidden qualities and help this man redeem himself—with the power of my pussy, of course. I manage not to snicker aloud.

"Liam and Isla decided to move to their island for a few months.

Evidently, without my knowledge or participation, my friends decided Tiny should stay with me, for now at least, rather than make the trip with them.

Cade and Abby are refurbishing their place.

Declan and Solene are going to be shooting a movie in New Zealand for the next eight months. So—" He raises a shoulder.

"So, you’re going to be a dog-parent?"

He points those green, unfeeling eyes at me, and my breath catches.

Damn. Is there ever going to come a time when he looks at me and it doesn’t feel like I’ve been punched in the gut?

Even sweaty and all mussed up from his run—especially sweaty and mussed up—he’s beautiful and solid and inflexible.

And I want to lick him up like an ice-cream cone.

"You done?"

"Eh?" I blink rapidly. "What are you talking about?"

"You were ogling my body."

"Was not."

He arches an eyebrow, then looks me up and down. "Are you sore?"

I flush. "What’s it to you?"

"Need to know if I need to stretch your hole enough to add four digits this time."

This time, I gape at him. "You do this on purpose, don’t you?"

"Do what?"

"Every time you think you’re coming across as too human, you say or do something to show me you’re a bastard."

"And you’d do well to remember that."

"There's only one problem. I don’t believe you."

He raises a shoulder. "Not my problem."

"If you were as much of an asshole as you’d like me to believe, you would've taken my virginity last night."

"And I didn’t because I don’t want you to catch feelings." He glances away, a bored look on his face.

"But you’re going to make me come."

"Only because it entertains me to see you writhe and moan and whine and beg me to bring you to orgasm."

I know he’s hitting out at me again. I know it’s because he wants so hard to conform to the persona he’s trying to present to the world.

I know it’s all a front because he’s not ready to face the emotional and mental injuries he’s carrying around, but it doesn’t stop me from actively hating him right now.

"I’d better get ready and head to the office. My boss is an unreasonable man."

I spin around and head toward the elevator doors, when he calls out, "I’ll take you."

"No, thank you. Also, I need to go home and change first."

"No need."

I scowl at him over his shoulder. "I’m not going to the office looking like this." I glance down at the dress I wore last night, then back at him.

"I have a solution for that."