Hostile Takeover Hill, W (thriller books to read .txt) 📖

“Just helping.” She wasn’t up to that direct stare. But that only made it worse, because what she did wasn’t calculated. She responded the way a natural submissive did when a Dom finally got his shit together and took the reins. She looked down. Back at his desk, straightening the contract unnecessarily, shifting his coffee farther out of the way. Then she stepped back, and she was smiling again, though it was a little forced. As she put that distance between them, she shrugged, tossed back her hair.

He’d seen that look before, usually when she’d been figuring her way through the difficulties that had been their home life until Lucas and Cass had gotten together and moved things in a better direction, with the K&A men becoming their extended family to help out.

“Hey, why don’t you let me take you to dinner tonight?” She held that smile, probably trying to pretend that whatever she’d been trying to pull hadn’t taken an unexpected turn for her as well. Her cheeks had a light flush. “You can bring me up to speed on the things you need me to do, and I can tell you all about my co-ops in the Big Apple and Europe. Don’t say no, because I’ve never paid you back for that trouble you bailed me out of in college. It can be an adult thank-you for helping me out when I was a kid.”

“You’re still a kid.”

That smile disappeared. He was getting an overwhelming compulsion to lick at that frosted color, see if it tasted sweet. As her brown eyes became more thoughtful, she leaned in, reaching out to touch his face. He caught her wrist, holding her there.

“Don’t.”

She blinked at him. Her fingers closed, touching his knuckles in a light caress. “I’m not a kid anymore, Ben. Will you let me take you to dinner?”

“To catch up.”

“Among other things.”

“No,” he decided. She reacted with a brief flash of hurt, which quickly disappeared behind an unfathomable expression. He needed to make this right, put it on the proper footing. She was still Marcie. He needed to talk to her about this kind of behavior. If she used it on the wrong guy…well, it wouldn’t be good for a lawyer to have a murder rap hanging over his head.

“I’ll take you to dinner. Old family friends don’t pick up the tab.” He managed a charming smile he hoped didn’t look like a big bad wolf salivating. “Pretty girls especially don’t have to pay.”

“Not with money.” She slipped his hold with a devilish grin and a little sass to her walk as she headed back to the door, contract in hand. It was as if that hurt look had never existed, but he knew better. Whatever Marcie had been trying to do, she wasn’t the duplicitous kind when it came to emotions. “I better get back to work,” she added, throwing him a look, the blonde hair spilling over her shoulder. “My boss might paddle my ass if I don’t get this contract over to Senecorp this morning. At least a girl can dream he might. Oh and Matt said he wanted to meet with you about fifteen minutes before Johnson arrives. I’ve pulled the file and the notes you’ll need.”

“Marcie—” He was going to give her a piece of his mind and then some, but of course Peter buzzed him. By the time he’d glanced toward the phone and debated whether to answer, she’d grabbed up some other folders on the desk and was gone, moving with breezy energy on those thin heels.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so outmaneuvered, taken by surprise, flat out punched in the gut. By a freaking kid, a twenty-three-year-old baby. He had about a hundred things to wrap his mind around from that little interchange, but there was one thing his aching hard-on was telling him, loud and clear.

That’s no baby, buddy. She’s a freaking natural submissive, hungering for a Master.

What the hell had happened to Marcie? Did she know she’d just thrown down a gauntlet to an experienced Dom, daring him to pick it up?

He was afraid she sure as hell did.

I’m really glad to be here, very grateful, but sometimes—don’t tell Cass and Lucas—I feel so isolated. A lot of these kids came straight from high school, from lives where they didn’t have a lot of responsibility. They talk about being on the basketball team, in clubs, with loads of friends they miss, because they hung out together so much. I miss my siblings. It’s crazy. I miss taking care of them, feeling like they’re counting on me to look after them, even though I remember days when I had to step outside the kitchen and scream, pull at my hair, because it became too much. Sometimes I think I should have gone to a community college with single moms, or adult students, where the intention is to learn, not to party or be on my own for the first time. I don’t really know what this kind of freedom is supposed to feel like, Ben. If it’s supposed to feel good or bad. Or how to even handle it.

Letter from Marcie to Ben, freshman year

Chapter Two

Marcie bolted for the fire stairwell, avoiding the elevator. Once she was three floors down, she stopped in the echoing stillness of concrete and metal. Leaning against the rail, she put her hand on her stomach, calming the butterflies. She’d done it. She’d fired the first shot, and she was pretty sure she’d scored a direct hit. Oh God, she was so over her head.

That was the only toe-to-toe volley she’d get, she knew it. She had to come at him from a more unexpected angle next time, keep him off balance. Once Ben O’Callahan rallied, he’d either rebuff her like an impenetrable fortress or… Her cheeks heated at that loaded or.

Don’t tease the wild animal. Isn’t that what they