“No, there was no point. I tagged her purse with a tracker. She is in your office.”
“I can’t believe she gave you the slip, Anselm.”
“I told you, she is very good. You should get her out of the office more. She could be of much use in the field, I think.”
“She’s a loose goddamn cannon. You don’t even know. She never listens.”
“But a woman with her intelligence and skills, left to her own boredom? Not so good.”
I laughed. “No, you’re probably right. Okay, well, I’m about to go into my office now. Gotta deal with this.”
“Very well. I’ll find Thresh and Duke.”
“No, stay out in the shadows. I need you as insurance.”
“This is LA. There are no shadows.”
“Don’t be so literal. You know what I meant.”
He chuckled. “Yes.” A pause. “Complacence, that is the word I was thinking of. Anyway,auf wiedersehen.”
“Yeah, talk to you later.”
I stood outside the door to my office, mentally preparing myself to go to war with a Layla determined to have to her own way. I couldn’t let her seduce me into giving in; that was her main M.O., and fuck me if she wasn’t damned good at it, too.
Stay strong, Nick. No matter what she does, keep telling her no. Promise her you’ll train her to go on more field ops. But do not allow her to think she can just do whatever she wants and get away with it.
I blew out a breath and shot a glance at Michelle, who was working a little too hard on appearing innocent. “Go take lunch, Michelle. And lock the door behind you.”
Michelle took off her headset, shut down her computer, shouldered her purse, and stood up. “Mr. Harris, I—”
“You’re cool, Michelle. No worries. Just go, and don’t come back for…an hour or so, I’d say.”
“Yes sir.” She ducked her head and scurried out of the suite, locking the glass door behind her.
I took another breath.
Let’s be clear, here: I’m not afraid of Layla.
But shedoeshave a hell of a temper, and shedoeshave a talent for verbally thrashing anyone who gets in her way, including me.
And shedoeshave a way of fucking with my head until I don’t know which way is up or even what I was originally trying to accomplish. I mean, she gets those goddamn soft hands on me, puts those plump, sweet, fuckable lips on me, and I lose all sense. It’s a fucking problem.
I shoved open my door, opened my mouth to berate her, and promptly lost all capacity for thought.
Mainly because the second I set eyes on Layla all the blood left my brain and went down into my cock. In the words of the late, great Robin Williams: “God gave men both a penis and a brain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time.”
She was leaning back in my desk chair, feet propped up on the edge my desk. Leaning way, way back, almost to the tipping point. Knees splayed apart. Stark naked. Hair loose and wild and all in her face. Fingers working her clit like mad, hips gyrating. Making this quiet, subdued, but intensely erotic sighing noise as she got closer and closer. I know when my woman is close to coming, and she was rightthere, riding that razor edge. Tits thrust into the air, lower lip caught between her teeth in an effort to keep quiet. She had her pussy lips spread apart with one hand, two middle fingers working herself with the other.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
How does she manage this shit? How did she know exactly when I’d be walking in? How thehelldoes she do it?
Instantly, I was hard as a goddamn rock. Stomping across the office, breath coming hard and fast. Fingers working my fly, pulling myself out.
