Third Debt (Indebted 4)

We’d never had an unhappy staff member. But then again, if they were caught stealing, pilfering, or tampering with the merchandise…well, a human life wasn’t worth as much as a diamond.

Nila edged closer. “They’re all in their underwear.”

I eyed the staff members who didn’t bother glancing up—too engrossed in their task and eager to hit their bonus for the day by clearing a certain amount of stones. Various skin colour, contrasting sizes, different sexes—but all one similarity—they all wore black underwear provided by the company.

I nodded. “A condition of employment.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would be obvious? Fewer hiding places. Not to mention, they don’t need clothing with the amount of heat generated from the lights.”

Sweat moistened my brow as we reached the end of the warehouse and climbed the metal steps to the office above. Our footfalls clanged with every climb, shuddering the framework.

“And you sit up there and play God, I suppose,” Nila muttered as we ascended toward the glass-fronted office with its bird’s eye-view down the length of the building.

“It’s a shared office for managers, but in a way we do. After all, we provide a livelihood to the people below us. We treat them well as long as they behave.”

“A bit like me then.” She darted ahead, opening the door and slinking into the office.

Following her, my eyes drank in the glistening sweat on her upper lip and tendrils of hair from her plait sticking to her nape. “You look warm, Ms. Weaver. You could always strip, you know. You are, after all, technically a Hawk employee.”

She bit her lip, the air flaring between us with static electricity.

Shit, why did I say that?

She lowered her gaze, not hiding the way she ogled me. “Perhaps I should.”

Instantly, my cock twitched.

“But only if you strip, too.”

I slammed the door and brushed past her. “Not going to happen.”

Never again. I couldn’t afford to sleep with her. Not if I wanted to stay in my drugged-bubble.

The office was sparse. Bare metal floors, filing cabinets bolted to the walls, a cowhide couch, and a desk in the centre.

Nila stalked me, moving toward the desk I placed between us. “Do you want me to strip because you don’t trust me around the stones or because you want me naked?” Her hands tugged at the jumper cascading off her shoulder. Pulling it further down, the swell of her breast and the tantalizing hint of black lace appeared. “Get naked with me, Jethro. Or don’t you trust yourself around me anymore?”

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to react. My cock completely ignored me, thickening to a steel fucking rod in my pants. Doing my utmost to seem unaffected, I switched on the desk lamp and picked up one of the many Post-it notes and memos stuck to the walnut desk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I told you before, I’m not interested anymore.”

Nila came closer, her fingertips dragging over the table-top. “Not interested…or not allowed?”

My head snapped up. “Be careful.”

“No.”

“What did you just say?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m tired of being careful. Being careful only brought me heartache. All my life I’ve been careful, and you know what? I’m sick of it.”

With an erotic twist, she grabbed the hem of her jumper and tugged it over her head. Her plait draped down her back and the tiny white camisole she wore didn’t hide the lacy bra beneath.

Fuck.

It also didn’t hide her pebbled nipples.

“Does this count as being careful, Kite?” Nila dropped the jumper onto the desk, cupping her breasts. “Does this count as acceptable to you?”

I couldn’t breathe.

Everything I’d been running from made my head pound, my cock beg, and the drugs in my system to fucking disintegrate.

What was it about her? Why did she have this control over me? And why was I utterly, ridiculously helpless around her?

God fucking help me.

Didn’t she know the more she antagonised me and made me slip, the more likely Cut would give her to Daniel and fucking slaughter me in my sleep? I wanted to strike her—hammer the precariousness of our situation home.

“Why did you bring me here?” she murmured, skirting the desk.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the hard pinpricks on her chest. She couldn’t be cold—not in this furnace. That meant she was turned on.

My mind instantly went to one question. Is she wet?

“Kes told you. Our secrets are now yours.”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason.” Closing the distance, she licked her bottom lip. “I think you wanted me off the estate, so you could have me without anyone seeing.” Her voice layered with sex and invitation. “You wanted me away from the cameras, so you could drop the act and show me the truth.”

Fuck.

I cleared my throat. “What truth?”

“That all of this is a lie. That you’re still the man I fell for—playing the same game you said you were sick of before I left.”

Shaking my head, I tried to clear my thoughts. “You’re once again delusional.” Swallowing hard, I ordered, “Go down to the sorting floor. I have a meeting to take care of—”

“No,” she breathed. “I’m not going anywhere until you stop being an asshole and show me the real you.” Closing the final distance, she stood beside me, crackling with mischief and lust.

Locking eyes, she undid the button and zipper of her jeans. “Don’t hide from me, Jethro. I can’t stay strong if you cut me out.”

My legs bunched to push the swivel chair backward. One heave and I could launch myself free and run from her web. But somehow, I couldn’t. I remained tethered in place; breathing fast, fear swamping my lungs.

She grabbed my wrist. “Don’t fight it. You can’t fight the inevitable.” Without a word, she pressed my hand into her trousers.

Holy shit.

My heart catapulted through my ribcage; my jaw locked as the scratch of her lacy underwear rubbed my knuckles.

Our eyes never looked away as she guided my fingers lower. I tugged half-heartedly, trying to remember why this was wrong when it felt so fucking right.

“Don’t…” She rocked her hips, twisting my wrist so my hand cupped her wetness.

She moaned, her head falling back. Her breasts were proud, jutting out, begging for my teeth and tongue. “That’s what you were wondering, wasn't it?” She bent over me, licking the rim of my ear. “If I was wet for you?”

I groaned as she deliberately rubbed herself on my fingertips.

My eyes snapped shut as she eased her underwear aside, guiding my finger inside her.

I stopped breathing. I stopped worrying. I couldn’t do anything but give in.

My cock punched against my belt. Pain existed everywhere. It took everything I had not to grab her and fuck her over my desk.

Her plait dangled as she breathed in my ear, “Take me, Kite. Fill me like you did in the spring. I’m yours and you belong inside me. Nobody can change that.” She rocked again, moaning softly. “I want you.”

“Nila…”

I want you, too. I want to tell you everything. I want to fucking run away and never look back…

“Well, this is an interesting sight.”

Nila shot upright. “Oh, my God.”

Yanking my hand from her jeans, I shoved her behind my chair. “I told you I had a fucking meeting,” I growled.

She fumbled with nerves, struggling to do up her trousers. Her eyes narrowed at our guest, anxiety waking off her in droves.

For once, I didn’t mind. I rather enjoyed her flustered need. Her unsettled confusion.

Spinning my chair around, so the man in the doorway wouldn’t see, I raised the finger that’d been inside her and ever so slowly, sucked it clean. Her taste exploded on my tongue. I could’ve come right there if we didn’t have an audience.

Nila stumbled, her hands crossing over her chest to hide the sheer camisole and bra.

“I have a feeling I interrupted something. However, I’m not going to be the gentleman and say sorry. I’m just going to stand right here and wait.” The man laughed quietly. “By all means, continue if you must. I’m a patient guy.”

Nila looked over my head, swallowing desire and frustration. “Not at all. I was just leaving.”

Moving fast, I latched my damp fingers around her wrist and tugged to whisper in her ear. “Whatever you just started…it’s not over.”

Her eyes widened as I let her go.

I spun back to face my guest. “Hello, Killian.”

Nila sneaked forward to snag her jumper. I chuckled under my breath. How could she be so sensually confident one moment and so flummoxed the next? “Nila Weaver, seeing as you delayed me, please say hello to my business meeting.”

The man in the doorway nodded, filling the frame with his large bulk and brown leather jacket. The stitching of his MC glittered with the words ‘Prez’ and ‘Pure Corruption.’