Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(68)

But I understand the language of flirt and a hand on your lower back translates as I want you on your back. I can tell by his look that he has no intention of remaining professional on our coffee date.

I smile, guarded. “Sure.”

A waiter passes, and Juan lifts two more champagnes from the moving silver tray and puts down my empty flute.

“Oh, I’m not sure if I want another…” My voice trails off as I see Tristan and Mara deep in conversation on the other side of the room. The other two people are listening in on their conversation, but it is clear that the discussion is mostly between them. Unease washes over me. Tristan is focused solely on Mara. He smiles intently at her, and she leans forward so that he can hear what she is saying.

Mara talks the language of flirt as well. Her head tilts up towards him, eyes sparkling. Gentle nudges, open mouth, exposed neck, hair flicking, the woman could write the flirt manual. And why wouldn’t she flirt? As far as everyone is concerned, he is single.

I turn back to Juan. His hand drops lower now, now a questionable line between lower back and upper ass.

“Actually, I will have another.”

Juan hands me the champagne and I take a sip. He looks delighted in the sudden mood shift as I clink my flute with his.

His hand curls around my waist.

My phone vibrates in my bag. “One sec,” I say, retrieving the phone. Terry flashes on the screen. My fake name for Tristan in case anyone saw his number at work.

“Excuse me,” I say to Juan with fake regret.

“Hello?” I answer the phone and turn to face him. His phone is in his ear as he leans against the bar out of range of Mara's hearing. His face is taut.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I hear his voice as I lip-read him across the room while we stare at each other. “What?” Flinching, I move away from Juan so he doesn't hear the angry tone through the phone.

“Lover boy is very fucking over-familiar, Elly.” His teeth are bared.

My cheeks flush with the heat of his sharp gaze. “So, it’s okay for you to talk to a colleague but not for me?”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” His voice is strained.

I narrow my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. My life doesn’t revolve around you, Tristan. You might be the boss, but you don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

We glare at each other, silently.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Make your excuses and meet me on the third floor. Take the stairs to your left and say you’re going to the toilet.”

The phone goes dead, and he returns to Mara and the two lawyers.

Moments later, he walks across the conference room, bypassing everyone trying to hijack him, and proceeds directly to the elevators. His eyes snap to mine with a flash of impatience.

“Excuse me, Juan,” I say distractedly. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Juan nods, his disappointment evident. “I’ll be here. In case we lose each other, I’ll give you my number.”

He puts his hand out to take my phone, and I hand it over. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tristan watching us from the elevator.

“There you go.” Juan smiles and hands me my phone back with his contact information.

I’m more breathless than I should be when I reach the top step of the third floor. How chivalrous of Tristan to give me the stairs option while he takes the elevator.

I see him leaning against the wall beside the door. He opens it, beckoning me to follow him.

I enter with slight apprehension as I try to figure out whether he’s angry, aroused or a bit of both. It’s a dressing room for the conference speakers.

The door is barely shut before he turns to me, nostrils flaring.

“I don’t like my employees touching you like that,” he says, growling through his teeth, his chest rising and falling. He closes the distance between us. “Are you trying to tease me, Elly? Because you’re doing a good job in pissing me off.”

“I wasn’t teasing you,” I snap. “Juan asked me to go for a coffee. It’s not my fault you employ handsy lawyers. Besides,” I snort “I’m surprised you noticed. You were too wrapped up in Mara.”

Furious, he takes another step forward. “So you thought you’d flirt with anyone that gives you attention? I’m not interested in women who play games.”

“How dare you!” I spit, narrowing my eyes into angry slits. I've never seen Tristan like this before. He must be high on his own glory. For the second time since meeting him, I want to slap him.

I turn to leave, but two hands grab my hips from behind and press them against his thighs.

He’s hard.

I freeze as he holds me in an iron grip. After what he said, I should protest, storm off, smack him...instead, I find myself pressing into him so my ass is hard against his arousal. As he lifts up my dress in one fluid motion, I feel him grow even harder.

I'm wearing a black thong to prevent visible lines. My bare buttocks rub against him, straining against his expensive cashmere suit pants. A low guttural growl erupts behind me, and he slaps one of my ass cheeks hard. I yelp at the sting.

“Do you want me to teach you who’s boss here?” he breathes in my ear, sending a shiver from my ear the whole way down my body. I like this role-play.

“Two thousand of my employees here, and all I can think about is you,” he murmurs as he guides me a few steps forward to the dresser table, then bends me over, so I have to catch my weight with my forearms on the tabletop.