17. Deanna #2
I turn to go but my elbow hits the frame. I grunt in pain as a spark of discomfort tingles into my fingertips. My freaking funny bone. I bite my tongue, but a hand wraps around my face, pressing into my mouth, and I’m dragged into the office.
Prime turns, back softly bumping the door closed, his big arms holding me tightly. There’s real menace in him. Terror runs into my core.
“Deanna, what the fuck are you doing here?” He releases my mouth. “Whisper. Don’t talk loud.”
“I heard something.” I’m breathless with fear. What would he have done if I were anyone else? “I was looking for the bathroom?—“
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Okay, I had to get some air from those terrible ladies, and I heard you in here.”
“The fucking drawers,” he snarls. “Who keeps their personal files locked in their own damn home?”
“Prime, what are you doing?” I turn to face him. The darkness in his expression scares me. There’s no shame, no worry, only a pure determination rolling from his body, like he’s still trying to decide how far he has to go.
“I need you to keep watch. I’ll be done shortly.”
“Keep watch?!”
“Do what I’m asking, Deanna.”
“You’re stealing from him!”
“Yes, I am.” He drifts past back to the filing cabinet. “And I’m almost finished. Keep. Watch.”
Without another glance, Prime gets back to work. This can’t actually be happening. He’s going through what are clearly personal and important papers, stuff Ricardo doesn’t want anyone to see. We’re guests in this house, and Prime’s acting like he’s some kind of thief.
Who the hell did I marry? And is this why we’re actually here?
Shit, shit, shit. This is madness. But what else can I do? If I storm out, I risk drawing attention to Prime, and I’ll be in deep shit too if he gets caught. I’m his wife, right? Nobody’s going to believe me if I pretend like I have no idea what he’s up to.
Anger wins out. I’m trapped now. Whatever game he’s playing, I stumbled right into the worst part.
I peek out the door, listening hard for any sounds. There’s only voices coming from downstairs. No footsteps in the hall.
Sweat dribbles down my back. Prime gets another drawer open, but this one makes noise too. It sounds impossibly loud. I clench my jaw to keep from groaning. “Are you almost done?” I whisper at him.
He tosses a file on the desk. “Nearly. Stay quiet.”
“This is insane. What are you?—“
But I stop mid-sentence, freezing as I hear a grunt. It’s coming from the steps and sounds like someone heading up.
I wave frantically at him. Prime doesn’t notice at first, at least until I’m practically jumping up and down. I point at the hall, eyes wide with panic, but he stays calm. He takes the file, tucks it under his arm, and shuts the drawer softly before striding over.
Too late though. There are footsteps coming toward us and the sound of heavy, labored breathing. An older, bigger man, by my guess. Someone like Ricardo. The owner of this damn office.
I’m freaking out. I turn to Prime. There’s got to be a way out of this. Some escape, some window we can climb through. Instead, Prime takes me by the hips and pins me against the wall beside the door. I yelp but he muffles the sound with his mouth, crushing his lips to mine in a brief kiss.
“Play along,” he whispers, reaching down and roughly yanking up my dress.
“What are you?—“
He jams the file up my skirt. I wriggle, trying to fight him, but he gets it wedged between my back and the tight bust of the top.
I open my mouth to protest, but he smothers me with another kiss, this time deep and hungry, and my skirt’s still hiked up around my hips, his thigh shoved against my warm pussy, his fingers grabbing tight through my hair as I whimper into it, confusion, fear, and desire all burning through my core as I involuntarily grind against him?—
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” Ricardo’s voice from only a few feet away.
Prime pulls back. His eyes blaze with heat as he turns to look at our host. I don’t have to feign the needy pulse between my legs as my fingers dig into Prime’s back. I bury my face in his chest, playing the role of mortified wife.
“Excuse us. We were looking for some privacy.”
Ricardo’s laugh is genuine and low. “I remember being a newlywed myself. Wasn’t that long ago. And with how much money you just won, I bet you were in the mood to celebrate.”
“Can’t blame a man.”
“Not at all. Except this is my office, not a bordello. Would you mind?”
“Of course. Which way to your bedroom?”
A scandalized and amused guffaw. “Now you’re going too far, Prime! Your poor wife looks like she wants to spontaneously combust.”
“She will if you give me bed access.”
“You’re too much. No, Prime, you’ll have to wait until you get home. Unfortunately, it isn’t that kind of party. Now, if you’d excuse me?”
“I understand. Deanna, thank our host for being gracious.”
I manage to lift my chin from his chest. “I’m so, so sorry, he made me.”
Ricardo’s eyes sparkle with joy. “I doubt that very much. Enjoy the evening, you two.”
I adjust my dress as Prime leads me into the hall. Ricardo watches until we reach the stairs and begin to descend.
“That was fucking close,” I hiss at Prime, feeling like I might pass out from stress. “What the hell was that, asking for his bedroom?”
Prime’s hand grips my ass and squeezes. “I was trying to make it realistic.”
“Stop that.” I swat him away. “What the hell did you shove up my dress?”
“My fingers. Soon to be my tongue and my?—“
“No, asshole, the file.” I stop at the base of the steps, whispering hurriedly. “It’s digging into my spine.”
“We won’t stay much longer. Now I have an excuse. I can’t wait to get my pretty young wife back to my bed.”
“You’re disgusting. You really think he bought it?”
“There wasn’t anything fake about what we just did.”
My heart rockets again. “Prime?—“
“We’ll talk about it at home. For now, hold tight. I’ll stay by your side until we leave.” He leans in, lips brushing my cheek. “Trust me, baby, okay?”
I don’t want to. Every alarm’s screaming in my brain. What just happened was wrong, dangerous, and reckless. But despite myself, I truly believe Prime never would have let me get anywhere near what he was doing up there if he had any say in the matter.
“No more secrets.”
He slips his hand into mine.