38| Bouncy Boundries

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Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I cannot freaking think when I'm so focused on the edges of Y/N's plump lips.

Heat of something so tempestuous bundles in my pants and I swallow hard to distract myself from the slight bump of her breasts that comes visible when she leans towards me.

She's clearly waiting for me to kiss her, and I want to, but I won't be able to stop myself when I do. Hell there are other places I want to kiss her at—

What the hell is wrong with me?

Her Earthy brown eyes are wide with anticipation, and she swallows, making my eyes slip down to her throat, then back up to her lips before I lean in, ready to smash my lips against hers but then she does something I least expected.

She fucking pulls away.

This cunning little mouse.

A smirk so wide stretches across her lips that I almost couldn't resist the urge to grab her and—

"Guess that proves I'm not the only one wanting," comes her words, so unbelievably infuriating and... sexy?

I nearly flinch at the intensity of my intuitions. Never in my life had I called a woman sexy. But what really threw me off guard was the sincerity in her tone. She wanted me?

That was something I couldn't believe. Why... why would she want someone like me? Someone with such a filthy past?

A growl of displeasure leaves my lips when she turns to walk away from me. I should feel relieved but I feel something tighten in my pants making me fall against my chair, consumed in my own arousal.

Today, my hormones are twisted. I had never in my entire life felt this way... so weak with wanting. I shouldn't be this way. This is wrong. This is dirty. 

You are dirty, a little voice snickers in the back of my brain and I groan. I still wanted her and it's killing me.

Another groan leaves my lips and I glare at the water bottle in front of me before downing it down like it was vodka.

For the next hour, distracted by my thoughts from earlier, I still managed to finish my slides presentation for a collaboration with the Italian clothing brand Armani

Just then, my phone rings, and I don't think much of it as I'm more worried about the meeting, but as soon as I glimpse at the caller ID of my phone, something flutters between my legs.

"Mi Changuito."

I blink at my phone. Did I seriously name Y/N "my little money" on my phone?

"Ssibal," I cursed. I may have been drunk on inauguration night when I put Y/N's number on my phone. What was I thinking?

Regardless, I pick up the phone so fast I surprise myself, bringing it to my ears.

I hear a male voice and immediately feel something tug in my chest. Y/N doesn't have any male siblings, does she?

There's a distorted male voice that sounds a lot like... the Grim Reaper? My anger has never rushed so hard through my veins.  Bringing my coat with me, I rushed outside my office, not giving a damn about the important meeting.

I can't believe Y/N is so calm in this situation. There's no signs of terror in her voice—not any that's audible to me anyway. Hell does anything scare this woman?  

I decided to take my motorbike this time, knowing exactly where Y/N lives because I remembered it when I decided to drive her to the train station a few days ago. Feeling sweat chafe my neck, I unbuttoned a few buttons from the top of my shirt, craving the chill of the night.

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