Obsessed Heir (Billionaire Heirs #4)

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

Barron

I ’m still trying to catch my breath when someone knocks on the door.

“Mr. McClelland.” James’s voice comes from nearby, distracting me from Abigail’s breathless accusation.

Abigail’s eyes shoot wide open, rounding in alarm as her head whips toward the door.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks, tensing beneath me. You’d think her husband just arrived to catch her banging his best friend in their bed.

I have half a mind to have James come in. He can get an eyeful of sweet little Abigail writhing naked in my sheets with my cock still buried in her pussy. With the unmistakable scent of sex surrounding us, there’s no way he’d miss the blatant evidence of it.

Instead, I push myself up on an elbow, making no move to dislodge myself from between her thighs.

“What is it, James?” I ask casually, as if this compromising situation is nothing out of the ordinary. Meanwhile, the woman trapped under me is pressing urgently on my shoulders, trying in vain to make me move. I don’t budge an inch, smirking down at her flustered panic.

If I was a gentleman, I’d tell James to leave and give Abigail some privacy to gather her wits.

I’d climb off her and pull the covers up to respect her modesty.

I might even get up and shut the door myself.

But I’m a businessman—a shark swimming in a corporate tank full of smaller sharks, so this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called a bastard.

Instead, taking a bit of amusement at Abigail’s mortified expression, I reach over to toy with her nipple. She gapes at me, incredulous, as I roll and tweak the tender peak between my thumb and forefinger.

“I have your breakfast, sir,” James replies in an unflappable manner, oblivious to what’s happening on the other side. “I didn’t know if I should come by this early...”

“I’m good with coming this early,” I murmur.

She glares at me as I grind my hips into hers, making my message clear. “Would you get off me.” Her furious whisper is laced with mortification and feminine outrage.

Instead of obeying the beauty beneath me, I lean closer until my lips brush the delicate shell of her ear. “He’s going to hear you,” I murmur, unconcerned.

Her mouth snaps shut, her full lips pressing into a flat, mutinous line. She has to realize that if she calls out or fights me too loudly, she’ll give herself away.

“Sir?” James asks from the hallway, likely wondering what’s going on.

“You can leave it in the kitchen, James.” I keep my tone dismissive because I’m not about to pull out until I absolutely have to.

“Of course, sir,” he acknowledges smoothly. “Also, Miss Holly would like you dressed in a suit again today. She wants you and Miss Abby to be at The Martini Bar.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“She says it’s the best place to have people see you as they come and go.”

That’s exactly what she meant to do.

“Very well. What time?” I sigh, agreeing grudgingly.

Running around with Abigail today doesn’t seem as much of a chore as I thought it would be yesterday. Then again, I’ve seen a whole other side of her since then.

“Preferably within the hour,” James replies with a hint of apology.

“Preferably,” I mutter, already annoyed at having to move.

“Do you know where I might find Miss Abby?” he continues in that same unruffled tone.

I grin down at her.

“Don’t you dare,” she says in a stage whisper. Obviously, she’s guessed I have no issue with the guy knowing precisely where she is.

I pinch her nipple, grinning wider at the menacing look she shoots at me.

“Did you need to talk to her?” I enjoy watching her eyes turn stormy as the heel of her palm connects with my shoulder. “Shh, or he might come in to see if I’m okay,” I warn from beside her temple.

“Miss Holly sent some clothes for her to wear. Actually, she called it maiden-wear,” he adds with a note of amusement.

“I’ll make sure she knows,” I assure James, thoroughly enjoying the fresh wave of color flooding Abigail’s cheeks.

“Thank you, sir,” he replies. “Also, there will be someone here for hair and makeup in half an hour.”

Abigail’s eyes grow huge.

“Thank you, James.”

“Should I leave the dress here, sir?”

Abigail drops her head against my shoulder.

“Oh God,” she mumbles, humiliated.

How did she expect the guy not to recognize what happened here? Her robe and my towel are on the floor in the hallway. After three rounds, you can smell the fact we’ve been fucking, and he’s a few feet away. With the door open, he may have even heard her say I came inside her.

“Hang it on the doorknob, would you?” I reply, with an immense sense of satisfaction.

“You’re enjoying this,” she ends in a furious hiss.

I must have the biggest fucking grin on my face.

“I’ve enjoyed everything about this,” I confirm, running my thumb across her nipple.

She scoffs at my disregard. Then her expression clears. “You don’t think she sent another outfit like this one?” She glances down at the tattered remnants of the dress she was wearing.

The possibility wipes the grin off my face. Normally, I would have said no, Holly wouldn’t do that, but lately she’s been off the rails. I didn’t expect her to have Abigail dressed in lingerie anyone could see through.

That’s enough to annoy the shit out of me and enough to get me to pull out. I rise, without bothering to reach for cover, intent on seeing what Holly sent. If it’s as transparent as what she’s wearing, I’m ripping it to shreds.

James fashioned a carrier of sorts with the terry cloth belt. He looped the robe and towel through it so I didn’t have to fetch it from the hall.

I take the hanger off the doorknob then head back to the bed. Abigail’s sitting up, her hair in beautiful disarray. She’s holding the sheet to her breasts as she watches me with a guarded expression.

I toss the bundle onto the bed then rip the top off the plastic cover to pull it down off the hanger so I can see what’s inside. The bag lands with a thud.

The dress is an off-the-shoulder piece with a skirt that should go to mid-thigh, at least. Most importantly, you can’t see through it. I hold it up for Abigail.

“Oh, it’s beautiful.” She tucks her hair behind her ear as she studies the dress, same as I did.

“I think there’s shoes in the bag.” I nod toward the floor. I pull the bag away to find underwear draped over the hanger. I fish it out, holding up the bikini for Abigail.

“Well, at least it’s not a thong,” she says, releasing a breath.

Holly came through on this one.