Chapter Seven
She held the door open for him to enter her office before she followed him and the roses into the room. She closed the door firmly behind her before moving forward to lean against the front of her desk. “Well?” she snapped.
The bouquet was slowly lowered to reveal Matteo’s slightly sheepish expression. He wore another one of those bespoke suits, dark gray this time, with a pale gray shirt and a gray-and-black-striped tie. “I was told that I needed to give you flowers and apologize.”
“By whom?”
“My future brother-in-law.”
Her eyes widened. “You told him about me?”
“Not you specifically, only that I had majorly fucked up with the woman I…like.” Matteo shrugged. “He suggested I give you flowers, and the florist recommended yellow roses as being suitable as an apology.”
As opposed to red roses, which represented love, and would have caused Grace to laugh him out of the store. “A florist who obviously knew how to manipulate a huge sale when she saw one,” she derided. “Someone should have told you that size isn’t everything!” Her gaze swept scathingly over the dozens of blooms.
As Matteo’s cock was larger than average and he’d never had any complaints in the past, he begged to differ. Size could make all the difference. Not that he intended saying any of that to Grace. He was very aware of still being balanced on an edge—or a ledge—where Grace was concerned, and he didn’t want to do or say anything that was going to piss her off. Anything else, he corrected self-derisively.
With that in mind, he just hoped Grace didn’t notice his larger-than-average-cock had become half engorged the moment he looked at her in a pale green blouse tucked into the waistband of pencil-slim black trousers that, as she walked in front of him to this office, he could see and admire as they fitted perfectly over her arse.
His cock had thickened and lengthened to an aching throb now he was alone in this office with her and was once again breathing in her unique and sensual perfume. The same alluring scent that had gotten him into such trouble on Friday evening. Something floral mixed with the musk of Grace’s arousal.
Part of him had wondered, after speaking to Bryce last night, if he might not have imagined the depth of the effect Grace’s innate sensuality induced in him. One minute in her company today, and he knew that he hadn’t imagined a thing.
Everything about Grace made him and his cock hard and aching. The delicacy of her appearance. The deep red of her hair. Her emerald-colored eyes. Those full and pouting lips he longed to kiss and suck and—
“Take your flowers, and your apology, and just go!” she snapped at his lengthy silence.
“I haven’t got as far as making an apology yet.”
“Isn’t that what the roses are for?” she scorned.
He frowned, not liking her attitude in the slightest. Yes, he’d admitted he’d fucked up on Friday evening, moved too quickly too soon, which he was fully prepared to apologize for. What he wouldn’t willingly tolerate was Grace’s dismissal of him or her scorn.
He placed the flowers carefully on the desktop. “Would you like to adjust your attitude?”
Her chin rose. “Not particularly, no.”
He arched dark brows. “Sure?”
“Very.”
He turned and locked the office door. “That’s a pity.”
“Unlock that— What the hell are you doing?” she gasped in outrage when Matteo grasped her shoulders to turn her before placing one of his hands against the middle of her back and bending her over the desk, crushing some of the yellow roses in the process and causing their heady perfume to add to an already lethal mix of sexual arousal. “Matteo?” she demanded indignantly as, despite her attempts to wriggle out of his grasp, he easily held her in place.
Matteo heard her breathy gasp once he stepped forward until his erection was nestled between her arse cheeks. “Last chance to drop the attitude,” he warned softly.
“I’m not frightened of you!”
“I can feel you trembling.”
“That isn’t fear.”
“No, it’s arousal.”
“Go to hell!”
He sighed, moving his hand to her nape as he stepped to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Warn me about what— Matteo!” she screeched her protest as his hand came down heavily on her bottom.
Again.
Then again.
Each time harder—and, Matteo was sure, more painfully—than the last.
“You’ll regret this,” she warned him through gritted teeth.
“Actually, I’m enjoying it too much to ever regret it,” he answered conversationally as he continued to spank her. “Do you want to know what would make it even more enjoyable?”
“It isn’t in the least enjoyable to me!”
“If your arse was bare,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “That way, I could see the marks my hand is leaving on your flesh.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Never dare a pissed-off man, Grace,” he warned grimly.
“I’m the one who should be angry, you—you Neanderthal!” she spat.
Matteo tensed his jaw. “I never apologize for any reason, nor do I buy flowers for a woman, and yet I’ve done both with you.”
“You’re still a barbarian!”
Matteo tutted. “Just when I was thinking of letting you go. After you’ve apologized to me, of course.”
“Hell will freeze over first!”
“Is that so?”
Matteo kept his hand on Grace’s nape as he snaked the other one about her waist so that he could unfasten the button and zip of her trousers. He then pulled them down at the back to reveal she wore white lace panties beneath. Matteo left them in place as he lightly caressed the globes
