“Give me a third finger. Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”God, what was I doing? I was already regretting my behavior, and still, I continued. I picked up speed, feeling my orgasm making its way from my toes up.
“Why’d you kiss Max?” he growled.
“To piss you off!” I cried out.
“Consider this payback.”
Just like that, he drew his fingers away, seconds from my orgasm. He stepped back. I slacked against the wall, my legs piling beneath me in disarray. The sweet ache of where his fingers had been still pulsated inside me. Well, now I was justpissed.
“Nothing happened, though, right?” He smiled pleasantly, popping the two fingers he’d used into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Hmm. Watermelon Sugar High.”
“Fuck you,” I moaned from my place on the floor.
He tipped his head down. “Not a fan of Harry Styles?”
“Not a fan of you!” I called out to his retreating back, watching him ambling to his room, disposing his whiskey glass on a credenza in the living room. “I’llneverfuck an asshole like you.”
He chuckled before closing the door behind him.
He knew it was a lie.
Not good.
Not good at all.
Let me rephrase—verygood. Too good. The kind of good you want to bottle up and save for a rainy day.
There was a first time for everything. Apparently, this was my first time finger-fucking my ward.
I’d never messed with a client before. Prided myself in the cool and collected way I handled my assignments, even when some of the most gorgeous, glamorous women on earth fell at my feet, begging for a joy ride.
In the end, the one who managed to get her way was the unassuming Hallie Thorne.
She was pretty enough, but nowhere near as eye-catching as many other women who’d tried—and failed—to lure me into temptation.
What made Brat ruthlessly alluring was her hostile individuality. Like a cornered, rabid animal, she fought, even without teeth and claws. She didn’t give up on herself, even if, in her own eyes, she was unworthy.
It was that fine line between her defenselessness and slyness that did it for me. She was a contradiction. A tender-souled belle who didn’t mind walking all over Max’s future with her pointy stilettos just to make a point. An exiled Eve. A weird, mixed-breed creature.
Someone like me.
Which reminded me. I wasn’t going to sack Max.
Poor asshat was a pawn in our screwed-up game. But I was going to make him sweat buckets and ensure Hallie Thorne was off-limits for him.
As for playing with America’s former First Daughter’s pussy juices, well, that was a one-off. I was fairly certain Brat wouldn’t rat us out to her parents. Admitting she got frisky with the help would serve as more ammo against her, and they already had plenty to work with.
The next morning, I woke up knowing I had to avoid her until I got my mind straight and my cock under control. Next time I saw her, I had to sit her down and explain there would be no morenothingsbetween us.
I grabbed my phone from my nightstand. The screen flashed with Tom’s name.
Not in this lifetime.
Not that any part of me considered confiding in him about my transgressions last night. But Tom was usually the bearer of bad news, and I needed two cups of coffee before dealing with his ass.