I almost stumble when a vision of him slamming me back against the wall and yanking up my skirt to gain access floods my mind.
Jesus—I bet he takes absolute control in the bedroom, and I bet he fucks like a complete animal. Men like that don’t do things slow and sweet.
“I don’t even get a ‘thank you’ or a ‘goodbye?’”
His sultry, deep voice stops me halfway to the door. I look over my shoulder at him.
Deep breaths, Dani. Keep it together.
Don’t let him see how he affects you. Don’t let him see you rattled.
“I don’t have anything to thank you for,” I reply, before raising my head high and strutting out the door, not bothering to close it behind me. I punch the button on the elevator and tap my foot impatiently.
I need to get out of here.
I need to get as far away as possible.
I need to find Nora.
I need to find something to prevent me from racing home, grabbing my Rabbit, and spending the rest of the day fantasizing about that man.
I need to find something to prevent me from racing straight back to his office, climbing over his desk, and straddling his lap.
An angry fuck can be supremely hot—ripped clothing, hair pulling, strong, groping hands—but having an angry fuck with my stripper sister’s deviant boss would be an epically bad life choice.
The instant she disappears around the doorjamb, I grasp my rock-hard cock and adjust it away from under the zipper of my jeans. That woman is walking attitude and sex. I can already smell the trouble she will cause me, mixed with the heady blend of lilacs and rain she left in her wake. I haven’t reacted to a woman this way in, well, ever.
I pick up the phone and press the extension for the downstairs bar, waiting impatiently as it rings several times. “Yep,” Byron answers, slightly out of breath.
“A very angry, very beautiful blonde is on her way down from my office. She’s looking for her sister, Nora Eriksson.”
“Your office? Shit. I’m sorry, Savage. I stepped out back to take care of a delivery. She must have slipped in when I was gone. I’ll take care of it.”
As much as I want to ream him out for letting someone get up here unannounced, I know he was busy out back and it really isn’t his fault. It does get me wondering about better security, though. I thought we had things covered—Gabe is kind of an expert when it comes assuring things are locked down—but if a woman like that can waltz right up here, so can anyone else.
“Please do, and track down Nora if she isn’t here. See if she can come in and meet with me as soon as possible.” I drop the phone back into the cradle and relax back into my chair.
My cock is still pressing uncomfortably against my jeans, but there isn’t anything I can do about it now. So, I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and make my best attempt to center myself.
Deep breaths, Savage. Deep, cleansing breaths.
There’s work to be done, phone calls that need to be made…
“What the hell was that all about?” Gabe struts into my office and drops unceremoniously into one of the leather arm chairs facing me. “Was she here for a job? Please tell me you hired that fine piece of ass!”
His lecherous grin makes me smile despite my disgust at his constant dehumanization of females.
“No, sorry, Gabe, she wasn’t here for a job interview. She was here to tell me off because I hired her sister, Nora Eriksson.”
Gabe’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “That is Nora’s sister?”
I nod and he chuckles, dropping his head against the back of the chair.
“You know what she does, right?” he asks.
“No, should I?”
He pulls his head up and gives me a look I’ve seen way too many times over the last twenty-plus years of our friendship—the “you’re a fucking moron” look.
“Should I?”
His grin tells me I may be in more trouble than I realized.
“Uh, yeah, man. She’s a goddamn investigative reporter for the Times. If you cross her, you’re liable to end up being the cover story.”
Shit.
I knew she looked familiar for some reason. I’ve seen her photo at the top of her column every fucking morning.
“Fuck, you’re right…but I don’t think she was here for a story. This was personal. This was about her sister. I gathered that the last thing she would want is for the world to find out her little sister is now a stripper.”
Gabe barks out a laugh. “Why do you say that with such disdain? You own the place, Savage. You employ these strippers.”
“That doesn’t mean I would necessarily want any of my baby sisters doing it.”
That gets Gabe absolutely rolling, doubling over in the chair and wiping tears from his eyes. “God, I can just imagine if Storm or Skye tried to become a dancer. You would completely lose your shit.”
I glare at him. “Not funny. Stop picturing my baby sisters in thongs, you pervert.”
“They are hardly babies anymore, Savage. They’re what, twenty-seven and twenty-nine? Storm is married and has a child, for Christ’s sake.”