Page 78 of Coerced Kiss

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Page 78 of Coerced Kiss

“Absolutely.” My smile is wicked. “It won’t look good for our relationship if I let you get away without a kiss.”

She parts her lips to no doubt argue, but before she can utter a word, I frame her face between my palms and tip her head back. Those gorgeous eyes are wide open and alert, shining with spirit and life. Her lips are pink and plump, and I already know they’re going to taste like strawberries when I lower my mouth to hers.

I wasn’t planning on giving her more than a peck on the lips, but the minute I brush my mouth over hers, I forget about my intention of keeping the kiss decent. I still possess enough control not to stick my tongue down her throat in front of the witnesses who stop to gawk, but I can’t help eating her lips while I hold her face in a tender grip.

It’s last night all over. I’m hard in a second, needing relief like never before. Even as I fantasize about making her wrap her soft hands around my length, or, better yet, those lips I’m devouring, I bring the kiss to a slow halt. I’m already addicted to her flavor, but this isn’t the time or the place.

She stares at me with big albeit hazy eyes when I pull away. A slow smile curves my lips. As much as she’ll deny it, she’s not unaffected.

“Have a good day,my love,” I say, pressing a last chaste kiss to her forehead before setting her free.

She lowers her lashes and pulls the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder before dashing to the entrance of the building. Her colleagues went ahead. They look at me through the glass doors, straining their necks for a better view.

If that didn’t look real, nothing will. That’s the secret. Every second of that kisswasreal.

When I leave her office, the drive is less enjoyable. I like it better when she’s next to me, when I can study her expression and her mannerisms and figure her out. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.

Giorgio waits in the office at the club. Antonio is there, working on the books at the desk in the corner. From the permanent crease on his forehead and the sweat that stains the armpits of his jacket, I gather it’s not going well.

It’s a tough job, a complicated one that requires precision. Lewis was damn good at it. It’s a pity he got greedy.

I use the rest of the day to check out the candidates for Lewis’s replacement. We need someone who’s not only excellent at his occupation but also a man who can be bought.

After drawing up a shortlist that I email to Luigi, I research a few prenatal classes. They use different methodologies, and the reviews vary between good and poor feedback. It’s confusing to say the least.

“Fuck it,” I mumble, shutting the laptop.

“What was that?” Giorgio asks from where he sits with his ankles crossed on Antonio’s desk, shoving a hotdog down his throat while babysitting his cousin.

I send a text message to Nicole. “Nothing.”

“You’re in a mood,” he says, wiping mustard from his mouth with his hand.

Nicole replies a second later with a link. It opens on a website of a birth preparation course that uses sophrology. The comments from couples who took the class are glowing. The waiting period to get onto the list is almost two years, but Nicole puts in a word for me.

One minute later, I’ve enrolled Anya from her second trimester.

Giorgio crumples the empty wrapper in a fist and launches it through the air, hitting me on the forehead. “What are you so fucking busy with?”

“Securing us a new bookkeeper.” I grin at Antonio, who goes pale. “Don’t worry. Your days aren’t numbered. We’re just going to relieve you of crunching numbers.”

Giorgio laughs.

Antonio’s lips twitch in a gesture that’s more nervous than amused.

A reply comes back from Luigi, telling me to set up the interviews. For the next hour, I make the necessary calls.

At five, I pick Anya up from work as promised. On our way home, the security detail at the house informs me that her personal belongings arrived.

“Not too tired?” I ask as I lead her into the house with a hand on the small of her back.

She shakes her head.

I take her bag and leave it on the entrance table. “What about the dizzy spells?”

“I had one this morning, but it’s not as bad as before.”

I usher her toward the stairs, removing my jacket in the walk. “If it happens again, I want you to call me.”




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