Without hesitation, I open the door to catch Mercedes sitting in my chair. She must have her nose in the bottom drawer because in her haste to come up, she hits her head on the still-open top drawer. She mutters a curse, rubbing the spot before fixing her face in a cool, indifferent expression.

I close the door behind me and set my briefcase on the floor. “Can I help you with something?”

She cocks her head to the side, takes a beat too long to answer. “I was looking for my phone.”

“I gave you a phone.”

“My old one. I have a number I need to get out of it.”

“Whose number?”

“Just a number. Why do you have to know everything?”

“Because I’m not used to people snooping in my office.”

“I’m not snooping. I’m looking for my own phone.” She shoves the drawer closed, but it sticks, and she has to stand to use her hip to do it. I notice she’s wearing a white camisole that comes to the very tops of her thighs. The peaks of her nipples press against the silk.

I produce a key out of my pocket, unlock the single-locked drawer, and take out her phone.

She tries to grab it, but I hold it out of reach. “It needs to charge. Let me know whose number you’re looking for, and I’ll get it to you tomorrow.” I tuck the phone into my pocket.

“You were gone the whole day.”

“I was. I thought you’d enjoy the time alone with your friends.”

“It was a distraction. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

“How was lunch?”

“Good. Did you find him?”

I raise my eyebrows.

She shakes her head. “And here I thought when you told me he was gone that you’d sent him away.”

“My brother won’t come near you again. I will see to that.”

She folds her arms across her chest, inadvertently lifting her breasts and drawing my gaze to the soft swell of them. When she realizes what she’s doing, she lowers them again.

"You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. I already told you that.”

“I have no intention of breaking that promise. Now…”

I take her by the hips and tug her close, then turn her to face the desk. I press myself against her ass and brush her hair over her shoulder. She shudders when I run the scruff of my jaw over the beating pulse at her neck before sliding my chin along the curve of it as I bring my mouth to her ear.

“Put your hands on the desk, Mercedes.”

She glances back, just barely, her breathing suddenly shorter as that pulse beats wildly. She sets her hands flat on the desk.