Fighting Mr. Knight: A Billionaire Office Romance (The London Mister Series Book 3)

In the darkness, I stare at the silhouette of the giant mounted moose head above the bed. Say what you want about my high-end hotel chain, but no one ever adds “nice moose head” in reviews. Sean’s mum railroaded them into getting married in the castle.

The goddamn grandfather clock in the hallway makes sure I know what time it is. The chime sequence sounds on the hour. There goes another hour of missed sleep: 3 a.m. Can Bonnie hear it? It’s right outside her room.

This castle is fucking noisy. Everything is moving and creaking.

I’ll never sleep. Not when my dick is painfully hard as I’m thinking of all the filthy things I’m going to do to Bonnie Casey when she finally stops resisting our insane chemistry.

A never-ending list.

It’s taken every ounce of willpower not to stride into her room, climb on top of her, and spend all night with my face buried between her legs.

Instead, I said goodnight with a kiss on the cheek like a well-behaved boy.

All the best things come to those who wait.

I watched her all night and she knew it. I barely got to talk to her, but my attention was always on her.

She liked it. Hell, she craved it.

An unspoken game between us.

She’s so damn feisty. Everything she says has a bite to it. And that look she gives me could whither a man’s cock off.

I watched her read my text message; blush viciously then ignore it. I’m not surprised. She can protest all she likes, but she started something when she watched me in the bathroom and there’s no turning back.

Sighing, I pull back the covers and grab a pair of boxers.

I pad out into the hallway as my eyes adjust to the darkness. There are soft drinks in the central kitchen and I need the sugar hit more than water. I’m at the age where my hangovers begin before I go to bed, not the morning after.

I need to leave early tomorrow to get to the Waterloo site. Tristan promised we’d be out of here by eight.

A sound stops me in my tracks.

Soft whimpering.

Bonnie’s room.

Is she having a nightmare? Is she crying?

I stop outside her door, trying to focus.

Damn, she’s definitely crying. What do I do in this situation? I can’t leave her crying but I’m not sure if Bonnie would consider me a friend.

Knocking softly, I push open the door by a few inches.

If I were a man who believed in ghosts, I might think she’s been possessed by some demon haunting the manor. The blankets have been thrown off her. She lies in the middle of the four-poster bed like a sexy apparition, her back arched, her eyes scrunched up and her beautiful heart-shaped face contorted like someone is pumping a funnel of vinegar down her throat.

I’m half expecting her to start levitating until my eyes travel downwards and I jump out of my skin.

The fuck?

A soft moan escapes her, and my heart nearly crashes out of my chest.

I need to get the hell out of here but I’m frozen. The only thing capable of movement is the blood frantically rushing south.

I stare, transfixed, as her fingers hammer her beautiful pink cunt like her life depends on it while her other hand fists the sheets.

She bites down on her bottom lip, stifling another moan.

Oh, Christ.

She’s drenched. Completely fucking drenched.

I suppress a groan raging in my throat coming directly from my cock.

Her top has bunnies, which doesn’t really fit the scene, but she’s naked from the waist down.

Just when I think my eyes can’t take anymore, she widens her legs, showing me every fold of flesh. Her fingers spread open her wetness, rubbing at her clit. God, I need to know what that wetness tastes like.

My cock strains like a racehorse.

She might be the worst dancer I’ve ever witnessed but she excels at the art of self-pleasure. It’s a performance that could reach a global scale.

Except it’s not a performance. This is a massive invasion of her privacy, making me a monster. I shouldn’t be watching.

But I can’t tear my eyes away from the sexy blonde Viking.

I suck in a sharp breath.

She’s close. She’s even fucking sweating.

Those whimpers.

I could come here in my boxers listening to her breathless little jerky moans even without the visuals.

She’s got headphones on. What’s she listening to?

What will she do if those pale blue eyes open? Hate me forever and never speak to me again?

Or invite me to join in?

My dick pulses, begging for an invitation to the party.

A low sound erupts from my throat. She doesn’t hear me. What the hell is she listening to?

Every part of her body is shaking. Her toes, her legs, her belly. Her head jerks violently backwards and her toes scrunch up in the bed as she rubs herself towards climax.

Closing the door as gently as my shaking hands will let me, I stand in the darkness of the hallway, with more wood than the Amazon.

I’m breathing like I’ve run a marathon.

Is she thinking about me? Max? Maybe someone else entirely.

“Jack?”

I look up in the dim hallway to see Kate’s sister, Becky.

She flicks the light on her phone, pointing it at me. “Where are you . . .” Her jaw drops as she focuses the light downwards.

I glance down, dazed. Fuck, my dick is so hard it’s pushing through the slit in my boxers, giving her an eyeful. There’s no point trying to pretend it’s not there.

I rearrange myself and try to compose myself, which is pointless.

“Becky,” I address her through clenched teeth.

A red satin night set accentuates her pert breasts.

The light flashes between my face and my dick as if she’s unsure which to focus on.

“Do you want company?” She seems to be asking my dick. “I can’t sleep either.”

“I’m going to get a soft drink,” I mutter. Now I need something much stronger.

Becky blinks a few times, chewing on her lips. “Okaaay.” The look on her face tells me she’s not going to let me escape that easily. “You look . . . stressed . . . like you need help relaxing. We can go chill out in the living room for a while.”

“I’m fine,” I snap in a ragged voice. Change of plan, I need to get back to my room and have a freezing cold shower.

She sucks in a breath. “You don’t look fine.”

My cock rages in agreement with her.

I glance in the direction of Bonnie’s room. I hope to God she doesn’t hear us out here.

“Good night, Becky,” I growl unnecessarily, and turn back in the direction of my room with one very angry, unsatisfied cock.