Forbidden Heir (The Heirs 8)

Damn, his arm, the veins, the… everything.

When Ryker’s done preparing his coffee, he turns to face me, leaning his hip against the counter. He takes a sip, his eyes locking on my face.

He just watches me as he drinks his coffee, and it has my heartbeat speeding up until I’m sure he can either hear the crazy pounding in my chest or see my pulse fluttering like a caged bird.

“We need to work on the proposal today,” I say just for the sake of saying something.

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice rumbles.

It hits me square in the ovaries, and before I can stop myself, my eyes drift closed, and I let out a needy breath. I try to hide my reaction behind my cup as I take another sip of my coffee.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.

Opening my eyes, I nod, but I have to clear my throat before I ask, “And you?”

“Not too bad.” Ryker reaches for my face, and it has me freezing. I feel his finger brush over my earlobe and down my neck, then he murmurs, “You had some hair stuck on your earring.”

“Thanks,” I practically squeak, my voice throwing a disappearing act because I’m overwhelmed by the tingles his touch gave me.

“How’s the headache?” he asks, sipping on the rest of his coffee.

Headache?

It takes a moment for me to remember. “Oh, it’s gone.”

“Good.” The low rumble almost draws a moan from me.

God, his voice alone is pure sex.

I set the empty mug down, but I can’t bring myself to move away from him.

Come on, Danny. You’re only going to embarrass yourself. You’re thirty-two, not some love-struck teenager.

“We should get to work,” I whisper as I force myself to walk toward the living room. Sitting down on the couch, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

This is going to be one hell of a long business trip. Fighting my attraction toward Ryker is becoming an impossible struggle.

Ryker goes back to his room, and minutes later, he comes out wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt that spans tight around his biceps.

Not much better than the sweatpants. He still looks hot as hell.

He sits down next to me, and picking up his laptop, he brings it to his lap. I grab my own device and settle back against the couch as I open it.

Then Ryker leans back, and his arm and leg press against mine. I get a whiff of his cologne.

Damn, he always smells good.

He probably doesn’t even realize our bodies are touching. I watch as he opens the document containing the proposal, and then my eyes drop to his hand as he begins to scroll up.

I wonder what it would feel like to have his hands on me. I’d probably orgasm in less than a minute.

My skin flushes from the thought, and it has me shifting on the couch, only making me more aware of his body pressing against mine.

I’m not going to get any work done at this rate. Trying to focus on the proposal, I say, “Make sure there’s no way for them to have any claim to Indie Ink if we sign a deal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs.

Another burst of heat spreads through me, but I force myself to narrow my eyes at him. “Stop calling me ma’am.”

Because it only makes me want you more, and I’m hanging on by a thin thread as is.

His lips curve up into the sinful smirk I love so much, and then his eyes flick to mine. “You love when I call you ma’am.”

His statement has my eyes narrowing more.

Does he know how I feel about him?

Shit, if that’s the case, I might as well just die of mortification because there’s no way I’ll live it off.

“Yeah, so much that I’m going to demote your butt if you keep calling me that,” I mutter, trying to cover up my emotions, just in case. I move up, putting some space between us, and then I focus on my work.

RYKER

I keep getting mixed signals from Danny, and it only frustrates me more.

This morning she checked me out. Like all of me. There was definitely a moment where her eyes dropped down to my cock.

Now she’s scowling at me and putting space between us?

Fuck, I don’t know if it’s just my imagination. Do I want this so much, I’m starting to see things that aren’t there?

“Are you clued up on all the countries' different business laws?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, at least the ones we’re looking at in Africa,” I answer.

“We should focus on South Africa’s neighboring countries. From what I’ve read, it’s easy to import and export between them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I mutter.

Danny lets out a huff, then she starts looking at Botswana’s economy.

An hour later, hunger begins to gnaw at my insides. “Time for breakfast,” I say as I shut my laptop.