He Irritates Me...
“Hey! Did you enjoy your weekend watching Lifetime and scarfing down Snackwells, Fierce?”
Chandi grit her teeth and pointedly ignored the dark haired god masquerading as a human. Tried to anyway. His sheer yumminess made it so hard. Watching Egan Braun saunter into the office was kind of like watching a living work of art, damn him. God, she hated the smart-mouthed bastard! If only her body would obey her brain and categorically reject his very being altogether. Pressing her lips together she stared at the screen of her computer, willing it to hurry the hell up and log in already.
“Aww, come on little Fierce.” The irritating man plopped his oh, so perfectly grab-able ass on the corner of her desk, flashing his infamous lopsided grin directly at her with deadly effects. Asshole. That smile had opened many a fat wallet for the non-profit organization they worked for. While Chanti counseled and worked with teen-aged moms, Egan kept them all rolling in ample funds. He was exceptional at his job too.
“Get your bony ass off my desk,” Chanti gritted out between clinched teeth. Her thighs were clenched to, and not out of irritation, but he certainly didn't need to know that! She hated him—she had to keep that firmly in mind. And was he seriously looking at her chest? Oh Lord, her nipples hardened, pulling impossibly tight, which made any movement torturous. The brushing of the all too sensitive nubbins against her bra drove her insane. “Don’t you have some geriatric ladies to go trick for? Jack boots to polish maybe?”
Not that she didn't enjoy their daily sparring sessionsshe usually looked forward to them. Just not today, the day before Valentine’s Day. He was an all-too-painful reminder that she was sans boyfriend, sans life, and that crack he’d made about Lifetime and Snackwells hit way too close to the bone. It had been the action channel and ribs, but the general spirit was all too correct.
Egan was a female’s wettest dream, come to life, in almost every way. Okay, every way but no one could be that damn perfect, so she liked to give him various flaws that might or might not exist. Someone like him probably had never spent a night alone since puberty.
“I can't think of a thing I would rather do than torment you.” Those devilish green eyes sparkled with pure delight, his gaze focused solely on her. Unnerving is what it was. And yes, thrilling too.
“Go away, gigolo. You annoy me,” Chanti hissed, far more turned on than annoyed to her utter chagrin. Egan Braun was bad news. A man she couldn’t have, shouldn’t want, yet her entire being yearned for him like a crack-head fiending for a hit. “Run back to the Fatherland to plot your people’s next great defeat.”
Low blow, seeing as he was of German descent? Yep. However, it wasn't her fault he had German roots. It was his fault for being all gorgeous and asshole-ly like that.
“I’m going to do some plotting alright, little Fierce.” Egan’s voice flowed like one hundred year old brandy, all deep and rich and intoxicating. His cryptic response was expected as he was an enigma, just like most of what he said. Sliding off her desk in a ripple of six feet four inches of lithe predatory grace, he lingered for a moment, staring down at her. He was so seriously fine, it should be illegal…it should be a crime. Instead of moving away to his cubicle across the room like he was supposed to, he leaned down until his mouth was less than an inch from her ear. Nothing in the world could stop the corresponding goose bumps accompanied by a sensual chill down her spine. Chanti gripped the edge of her desk as if it were a lifeline. Too close, too sexy, too much! “But I guarantee you, Chanti Benson, I won’t be losing this
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