Page 63 of The Exit Strategy

I’ve been in meetings since seven a.m. This is the firsttime I’ve had a chance to check email, and as I scroll, I begin to sweat.

This is Viper at her best. Slowly, I lift my gaze and stare out my open doorway to find her sitting at the conference table, nervously tapping not one pen, but two.

It’s unfortunate for her that I’ve memorized all her tells. And I understand her spite better than anyone.

Viper wants to talk but refuses to initiate the conversation. I want to skip the talking and go straight to more kissing but can’t—for reasons that are escaping my mind at the moment.

Lifting the last file she dropped on my desk, I rise, my chair gliding out from under my desk in near silence, but it’s as though it shifts the air from me to her, and pretty blue eyes track my movements.

Her swallow is visible as I stalk closer. My little Viper signed me up for a dating site that doesn’t appear to care much about the date portion of the evening.

She must know she’s playing with fire.

I don’t stop until I’m close enough to lean against her table. She sits tall, with her hands hovering over her keyboard now, and she never breaks eye contact, even as I lower the file to the table.

Even as I invade her space.

My fingers brush hers as I hand her the file folder. The air charges with intent. It’s a visceral thing, physical in the strength of it as my pointer finger runs over the smooth edges of the oval-shaped diamond on her finger.

Then my gaze snags on her lips. The way her breathing intensifies and her chest works hard to keep up.

The difference between her first day and today is that now I’m allowing myself to look because looking is a reminder of what I tasted, and what I tasted is a reminder ofwhat I want, and what I want is the one thing I’ve spent years telling myself I can’t have.

Now, the one thing I can’t have is the only thing I need to survive, and my single goal in life is to find a way out of the mess my life has become.

I’ve been existing because I feared what would happen. Now, I’ll fight because I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t.

My control is at a breaking point. Blowing up my life seems to be my only option as my thumb and forefinger grip the diamond on her finger—not to remove it, but to say a silent prayer of thanks that it’s still stuck.

Then I lower my head so slowly that she can pull away at any time. But my Viper—she won’t back away from a challenge.

When my cheek grazes hers, I inch my lips toward her ear, then close my eyes and inhale her. Sweet and crisp, like freshly fallen snow. A rumble of a memory works through my chest. Junie’s the same as she’s always been, but better too.

Because now she smells like mine.

“If you want to call me daddy, little Viper, all you had to do was ask.” My teeth snap out and clip the soft flesh of her lobe, then I suck it into my mouth to taste as much as to soothe.

She gasps.

I press my luck.

Junie moans when my teeth graze the pulse point in her neck.

I leave a trail of moisture with my tongue.

“C-call you daddy?” She scoffs. “I—I don’t know what?—”

I bite down on her. Hard. Right where her neck andshoulder meet. It’ll leave a mark, but it’s low enough she can hide it if she wants to.

“Tell me your game plan, Viper.” My lips leave her skin, but I don’t pull away. I stand, placing my hands on the armrests of her chair, hovering over her with my chest invading her space, the scruff of my jaw pressed to the softness of hers.

“Did you want me to reply to JustTheTits? Or how about BendyWendy?”

The sound that seeps through her clenched teeth is not a happy one.

I lower my voice even more. “Did you think about the consequences, Viper? Because I don’t think you did.”

She scoffs, but she starts tapping her pen against her thigh now. Tap, tap, tap.