Chapter 17

17

Knox

Without hesitation, she parts her lips, and blood drains to my groin. Her obedience is going to be my downfall. The satisfaction I get from feeding her is dangerous. The pleasure I get from the simple act of being with her is going to be my undoing. Everything I've guarded against—the vulnerability, the susceptibility to being hurt—all of it seems very real.

I will not fall for her. I cannot fall for her. I'm not good enough for her. I can't give her the kind of relationship she deserves. I don't trust myself not to hurt her. I'll always want more from her, and it'd be wrong of me to expect her to put up with my proclivities, no matter how much she seems to enjoy it now. I cannot sully her. And despite my best efforts to keep our relationship professional, it's clearly not working.

I need to find a way to, once and for all, put an end to this obsession I've been developing for her. I need to get her out of my system. The straightforward way would be to fuck it out, which would hurt our working relationship. In the brief time since she joined my team, she's become indispensable .

But nobody's indispensable. I can fuck her, then send her on her way. Yes, that's right. That's the only way out. I'll pay her enough to compensate for the job loss. Then I can move on.

I scoop up more of the chocolate tart, and again, she wraps her lips about the spoon. When she licks it off, the sight of that pink tongue has my cock stabbing at the constraints of my pants at my crotch.

And when I dip the same spoon into the dessert and bring it back to my mouth, her pupils dilate. She swallows, and the pulse at the base of her neck kicks up in speed.

"Like it?" My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

She nods.

"Want more?"

She nods again.

I place the spoon down, then dip my finger in the chocolate and bring it to her mouth. I smear it on her lips, but before I can pull back, she flicks out that tantalizing tongue of hers and licks the rest of the mixture from my fingertip. Heat arrows down my spine. The pressure in my balls tightens. My dick extends and threatens to stab its way out of my pants. I haven't even touched her properly, and already, I'm ready to come in my pants like a teenager. This woman is dangerous.

And if you fuck her, once will not be enough. I won't be able to walk away. I'll have to find a way to keep her at my side. So anytime I want, I'll be able to touch her, hold her, caress her. To take care of her and own her. To tear into her pussy and infiltrate every hole in her body. To look into her eyes as I thrust into her. To squeeze her gorgeous arse-cheeks as I take her from behind.

The thoughts and images cascade across my mind. Every cell in my body seems to catch fire. My thigh muscles tighten. My fingers tingle to curl the strands of her hair around my palm and yank her head back. To expose the line of her throat so I can bury my teeth in the curve of her shoulder and mark her. Fucking hell.

The intensity of these feelings is new. And it's not just physical. The way my heart seems to expand every time I'm in her vicinity… The way I track her progress every time we're in the same room... The way I'm aware of her presence outside my office… It's distracting. To be this focused on another person is something I've never faced before. And the more time I spend with her, the more pronounced is this connection with her.

All of my resolutions to keep her at a distance, to keep our association purely professional, have gone out the window. If I continue down this path… I'll never want to be rid of her. I'll never have enough of her. Next thing, I'll be baring my soul to her, and becoming dependent on her. No longer will I be in control of my emotions. And that, I cannot allow.

I will not let this sprite of a woman sweep into my life and turn it upside down. I can't let myself want her. No, I need to draw a very firm line between us. One that deters me from pursuing her. That's the right thing to do.

I pat my lips with my napkin, then throw it down on the table. "Time to leave."

The drive to her place is quiet. I sense she's confused, for she keeps darting sideways glances at me. I've kept my gaze firmly on my phone. Not that the words on my email make any sense to me. I'm too aware of her scent, of the small movements she makes as she tries to make herself comfortable, of how she keeps locking and unlocking her fingers together in her lap.

A couple of times, I sense her turning toward me, as if she wants to talk, but mercifully, she doesn't. If she did, I might throw away my resolve, surge forward, pull her close and kiss her. As it is, I have to grip my phone hard with one hand while I curl the fingers of my other hand into a fist, so I'm not tempted to reach for her. When the car draws up in front of her place in Finsbury Park, she hesitates.

"Good night," I say without looking up at her.

"Good night." She goes to push the door open, then looks at me over her shoulder. "Is… Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"It's just, you seem preoccupied," she says in a soft voice.

"I'm a busy man; I have a company to run, Ms. Donnelly."

I sense the anger that begins to simmer under her skin. I risk a glance in her direction to find her cheeks are flushed. Her eyebrows are knitted, and she's scowling at me. She's pissed off because I called her Ms. Donnelly again. A pathetic way to put distance between us, but I'm clutching at straws here. Being in an enclosed space with her, having her so close that I could reach across and touch her, and not permitting myself to do it is sheer torture. Our gazes hold, and there's a plea in hers.

Is she even aware of how alluring she is with her features lit by the light from the rear dome light? I can't stop myself from dragging my gaze down her face, to that pulse beating at the base of her neck, to the hint of cleavage exposed by her blouse, and her gorgeous tits outlined by the fabric. A bead of sweat slides down my back. The knot of need in my belly seems to grow until it seems to fill every part of my body. Fuck. I need to get out of here before I do something I regret.

I make a show of glancing at my watch. "I'm getting late for my next meeting."

"Your one a.m. with Taiwan." She nods slowly, and when the chauffeur opens her door, she steps out of the car.

I push my own door open, then straighten and walk around the front of the car to join her. "I'll see you to your door."

She glances at the doorway that leads to the block of flats where she lives. "The entrance is right there."

I move toward the small gate that opens onto the short walk that leads to the entry. She follows me at a slower pace. When she reaches me, she steps forward and keys in her passcode. There's a snap as the door unlocks, and she pushes it open. She turns to face me and trains her gaze on my shoulder. "Goodnight, Mr. Davenport."

Before she shuts the door, I say, "I need you to come with me to the luncheon at Arthur's place on Sunday."

Her forehead furrows. "Isn't only close family invited to that?"

I arch an eyebrow, making sure to school my features into a bored expression. "I didn't ask you for a description of the event."

She pinches her lips together. "It's the weekend."

"As you're aware, I work weekends, and your contract specifies that, as my assistant, you too, work weekends, when needed. I don't need you at the other appointments on that day, but I need you at this lunch," I fix her with my gaze.

"But this a family meal where family members will be in attendance." She shuffles her feet. "So why do I need to be there? "

Because, I need to make you hate me, so that you'll stay away from me, since it turns out I'm not strong enough to stay away from you. I need to find a way to get you out of my life, but since I seem incapable of doing that, I need to engineer something that will cause you to leave me instead.

"It's never just a family meal when Arthur is involved." I roll my shoulders. "And with my other brothers involved in the business, there's bound to be work discussed. I need you there to keep track of it."

I monitor her features, waiting to see if she'll accept the explanation. And when she nods, I allow my muscles to relax.

Good. That's good. This is the only way out. It's going to hurt her, but it's for her own good. This way, she won't have anything to do with me, and that's for the best. My heart squeezes in its chest. I shove my misgivings aside, then nod in her direction. "I'll meet you there. I'll get there directly from my previous meeting."

She draws in a breath, then her features smoothen out. "You have the weekly eight a.m. with the sales staff, then the nine a.m. conference call with the East Coast, followed by the ten a.m. review of the creatives for the newest ad campaign, then the eleven-thirty meeting with the strategy planning agency at their office."

She recalls my schedule without having to consult her phone. It's safe to say, I'm impressed, but I don't show it. Instead, I nod and step back. "Lock up, Ms. Donnelly. I'll see you at Arthur's place at twelve-thirty p.m. The address is in your inbox."

I make sure she shuts the door and wait until I hear the snap of the latch falling into place before I turn and head to my car. Once inside, I call Arthur. He answers on the second ring.

"It's late," he says by means of a greeting.

Gramps never does mince his words.

I allow my lips to twist. "I think you'll be interested in what I have to say.'