The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3) by Piper Sheldon (e book reader android txt) 📕

lobby and found her bent over, struggling to pick up a box half her height. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun and professional gray trousers clung tightly to legs I had memorized by now.

I looked to the ceiling and threw out a silent cry, Come on. You’re killing me.

The box was slightly larger than her arm span and she couldn’t get enough of a grip to leverage the size. The lobby was deserted at the early hour, so I spent twenty seconds enjoying the view. It was wrong of me. I would never let anybody else ogle her like that. But other people hadn’t known her body intimately while dancing. Hadn’t held her hand for hours. Eventually, I did move to help her. I stepped quietly until I was right behind her.

“Can I help?” I bent forward to ask in her ear.

She shot up immediately and I stepped back just in time to avoid a bloody nose.

“Sanders.” Her gaze roamed over my face, pupils dilating. For a flash she almost looked as though she were happy to see me. But then her focus flicked to check the room around us. “Hello. Good morning. Ah, no. Nope. I’m fine.” She patted the box.

“Are you sure?” I smiled and leaned in. She smelled amazing. Her scent was different each time I’d been with her, the base the same but with different accents, like a series of wines made from the same grapes but with slightly different tones. Today her underlying scent was accented by flowery notes of … gardenias?

She leaned back. “How has your stay been so far? Your accommodations are good, er satisfactory?”

“The beds are fantastic.” I smiled.

Her eyes widened a fraction and flicked around the lobby. “Good.” She nodded.

Color rose to her cheeks and I felt myself preen. But then I realized what I was doing. I was doing the literal exact opposite of what Skip told me to do. My normal, albeit overwhelming charm, would not be wise. A wave of guilt had me straightening and taking two steps back.

She smoothed her cream-colored silk blouse. I was slightly disappointed to note that I couldn’t see any of the art decorating her body that had been visible the night we met. I would love to spend hours memorizing each once. Tracing my fingers over the patterns … seeing where they led.

I cleared my throat. How long had we been standing there just staring at each other?

“Well, if you got it handled. I won’t bother you.” I turned to leave.

“Ah, actually.” She hesitated. “This delivery was supposed to go to the back entrance but somehow there was a mix-up. I was trying to move it out of the way.”

She was fixing her fringe when I turned back around. “Bit of an eyesore,” I hedged cautiously. Patience, I reminded myself.

Her hand dropped quickly. “I wanted to move it to the back office before any guests came down. It’s for a wedding this weekend.”

“Happy to help.” I hefted the box into my arms in one smooth movement. Showing off slightly. The bugger was heavy. I was sufficiently rewarded when her eyes flicked to my biceps. I flexed them as the box slipped and I readjusted to grab the bottom. She sucked in her lips and looked away. Thankfully, the box hid my cocky grin.

“Follow me,” she said.

Unfortunately, the box also blocked most of my view. The soft sounds of her heels clipping along the floor guided me. I risked my balance by looking around my burden to glimpse her retreating backside. My knuckles smashed on the corner as we turned and I almost dropped the box.

“Shit,” I swore. Served me right for not paying attention.

“Are you okay?” She helped me set the box down in a back room.

“I’m fine. Karma.” I mumbled the last part to myself.

She grabbed my hands and winced at my knuckles. It wasn’t anything bad but the skin was peeled back and there were little dots of blood along each knuckle.

“’Tis but a flesh wound,” I joked.

“Come here.” She didn’t drop my hand as we walked a few more feet to a small janitor’s closet. She set me down on an overturned bucket and opened a first aid kit on the wall.

“It’s fine. I’ll just rinse it off,” I half-heartedly said. To be honest, there was nothing sexier than her nursing me in that little suit.

She ignored me as she took out a few things, reading the backs and reaching for the next package.

“Some help I am.” I kept talking because, boy, it was quiet in that little room. “Now, I’m keeping you from your work.”

She ripped open a square packet and shook out a damp sheet. She crouched down, balancing on her heels and gestured for my injured hand.

“Really, if you need to get back to work. I’m fine—oh, ouch!” My hand shot back but she didn’t release it.

“It’s an alcohol wipe,” she said.

“It burns like the dickens,” I said.

Her eyebrows shot up behind her fringe. Her mouth was a flat line but a little light teased her eyes. “Like the dickens?” she repeated, staying focused on her work.

I sniffed haughtily. “Nah. This is fine. I’m totally fine.” My arm tried to pull out of her grip again when the next wipe burned even more.

Now she was definitely trying not to smile.

“I’m glad my pain brings you joy.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said lightly.

I leaned in closer and just about died when her mouth pursed and she blew a soft stream of air on my fingers. She may as well have been blowing on my cock for how hard I became in that second. I swallowed and began to mentally list all the states in America, a nearly impossible and terribly unsexy task. Don’t misinterpret things again. Just because I found her every single action sexy as all hell didn’t mean she was making a pass.

I was stock-still, too afraid to breathe or move for fear of pulling her onto my lap.

She looked up at me through