11. Wren
11
WREN
T ime slows as my last client of the day waves and hustles to their car. The day had been nothing but whiplash. Merrick flirting this morning and then asking me to dinner, Holly bragging that Merrick had given her a paid day off for her services, and nonstop appointments until close left little room to breathe.
Flipping the lock on the door, I resist the urge to sag back against it and force myself to clean up my space.
Fifteen minutes and I can go home—twenty, tops.
Operating on autopilot, I make quick work of resetting the room, my heart soaring now that I can finally leave.
Buzz. Buzz.
My groan is audible as I pull out my phone and read the text message at the top.
MERRICK: Come see me before you leave
Hungry, tired, and a little strung out, I stomp toward his office. The door is ajar and I don’t wait for him to acknowledge me before I push it open and then close it behind me, the latter a habit rather than anything else.
“What?” I snap.
“Tough day?” he teases, unfolding himself from behind his desk and closing the distance between us. “Because I have some news I’d like to share.”
“Well get to the point,” I bark, poking him in the chest to punctuate my words. “I’m exhausted and grouchy, and I had to deal with Holly and listen to her say she fucked you for a day off and?—”
Merrick’s hand closes around my wrist, pulling it from where I’d been assaulting him before grabbing my other wrist in his free hand.
“You want to fight, Hellcat?” he murmurs, backing me up until I collide with the wall, one hand pinning my wrists above my head as he cages me in with his body.
“I want you to tell me that’s not what happened.”
“I gave her the rest of the day paid,” he says slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, “but not because I fucked her.”
“Then why?” I ask through gritted teeth, his hand gripping me tighter as I try to break free from his hold.
“You will act very surprised tomorrow when I announce that she’s on unpaid suspension for the next week.”
“For what?” The question is breathy as he drags his nose along the underside of my jaw.
“I’m trying to convince you to have dinner with me, and you just want to talk about work.” He sighs, nipping at my pulse as it hammers in my throat.
“You started it.”
He growls, the sound vibrating against my skin. “I told you I was looking for money in the budget and I found it. She’d been paying herself through her bullshit PR company.”
“What?”
“Do you have any idea what all these skintight tops do to me?”
“Focus.”
“I am,” he groans as his thumb brushes along the underside of my breast, “and your tits— fuck, baby. I can’t wait to have my mouth all over them.”
“Dinner.”
“Are you agreeing?”
“No,” I manage, the response forcing him to pull back to look at me.
“No?”
“A man doesn’t ask me to dinner through a text, Mr. Ellis.” I grit out, the cocky bastard pressing his thigh into the apex of mine in response.
“I’m about to say fuck dinner if you keep rocking against me like that.”
“Merrick—” His name is a whine, and I gasp when he grinds against me, his erection hard and thick and oh my God, I need it.
“Don’t you want to know the good news?”
“Is it your dick? Because that feels like good news.”
He chuckles, the sound a low rasp that sends a shiver down my spine and a shot of desire between my legs.
“Now that everything is all sorted, I can grant your proposal.”
“Then why are you distracting me? I can’t think when you’re this close.”
“You chose violence, Miss Sterling, and you’re so much more pliant this way.”
“Dammit, Merrick, I just?—”
Stealing the breath from my lungs, Merrick takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, his hand tilting my face up to meet his as he consumes me. It’s heady the way his tongue pushes between my lips, licking and teasing and forcing a gasp from my throat.
“Come home with me,” he pleads as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat before pulling the neck of my shirt down and dipping his tongue beneath the fabric.
“That’s such a bad idea,” I manage as I push my breast against him, my nipples already hard, needy peaks just begging for attention.
“I can’t do what I want to you here.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“I’m way past that, Hellcat,” he says, making it sound like a curse as he drops my hands before threading his fingers in my hair, his palms cupping my face as my nails dig into his forearms.
Because it’s the only thing keeping me upright as I’m hit with the intensity of his need— his desire—and the way I need it too.
“Fuck it.”
“What was that?” he murmurs, his hand dropping to knead my breast, as he keeps me trapped against the wall.
Claimed.
Owned.
Possessed.
“Dinner,” I rasp and he grins, the gleam in his eyes borderline feral. “Dinner first.”
“As you wish.”