Spoken For by Emma Briar Read Free Book Online Page B

“Are you fucking Mr. Rearedon?”
    The low growl demands an immediate, honest answer.
    Ha!
    He towers over me in my flat boots, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet his scowling eyes, my gaze passing over his firmly drawn mouth along the way. A mouth that will not kiss me, because apparently I’m bad for him.
    “How is that possibly any of your business?” I snap. Now that I’ve stopped, every inch of me is frozen, wet and irritable.
    “Ground rule number five, Ms. Lynch.”
    Oh. My.
    My big decision shatters as my knees turn butter soft.
    “There’s an actual rule for that?” I batter my lashes at him. “ Thou shalt not fuck Liam Rearedon? ”
    “Fraternization between colleagues.” His hard gaze bores into me. “On the company dime.”
    “You’re confusing your numbers,” I shoot back. “Isn’t that ground rule number three?”
    “Trust me, Ms. Lynch, you could never begin to imagine what goes on in my playground. I’d offer to show you, but that would be breaking ground rule number three.”
    “Not in the least.” He lowers his head, lowers that thoroughly unamused mouth until his breath warms my frozen lashes. “Ground rule three is something altogether different.”
    His scent wraps me. Male. Musky. Earthy.  The damn man smells of pine forest and bottled sexual arousal.
    Hot shivers prickle my skin as I wait for the lesson that always follows one of his ground rules.
    A lesson that will have to wait, because right then Liam finds me.

11
     
     
    THE LONG HOUR of lunch is either torture or heaven. I’m in no state to tell the two apart. I’m literally squirming in my seat.
    Roman sits directly across from me. I can’t meet his gaze. My entire body is a tingling mess of raw nerves. My clit is swollen. If I look into his stone cold eyes, if I see the slightest indication of intent stamped on his hard jaw, I will come.
    I’m not the least bit hungry, but I can’t afford the attention and so I pick at my plate without tasting. I feel the imprint of his hand on my backside, the stinging slap, the sensual massage. I feel his palm dragging up my thigh, his finger dipping inside me. I can’t imagine where this next lesson will take me, take us, and that’s part of the thrill.
    And what the hell is ground rule number three?
    Halfway through lunch, it occurs to me.
    Is this lesson number three?
    The anticipation?
    He could have followed me, after all, when I rushed upstairs to change out of my wet clothes.
    Lunch finally ends and we’re rising from the table when Connor says, “Will you be wanting to collect the Lam today? I need to drive in to Dingwall anyways.”
    “Not with this snow on the roads,” Roman says. “Tomorrow, perhaps.”
    I wrinkle my nose at the conversation. “The lamb?”
    Connor’s eyes shift to me. “Special edition Lamborghini Aventador.”
    “A Lamborghini fucking Aventador?” Liam spurts, then gives Roman a worried look. “Sorry, Mr. Rocchi, but do you even know awesome that baby is?”
    Roman’s lips hitch at one corner. “I have a mild idea.”
    “Roman kindly lent it out to the Dingwall Annual Motor Festival,” Connor tells us. To Liam, he adds, “You like your sports cars, then?”
    “What’s not to like?”
    “If you take that drive with me, we’ll see about stopping in at the show grounds,” Connor says. “The festival only ended yesterday and most of the cars will still be there.”
    Liam doesn’t need to be asked twice and a few minutes later, it’s just me and Roman left in the dining room.
    Before I can move or think of anything to say, Maggie pops her head in. “Coffee?”
    “Thank you, Maggie, we’ll be in the library.” Roman waves me ahead with a hand. “After you, Ms. Lynch.”
    Fresh waves of desire roll through me as I walk a step in front of him. I’ve changed into black woollen leggings and a tunic that rides my thighs, and that’s where I feel the heat of his gaze, high up my thigh, just below the curve of my butt