[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 42: Corrections

He looked like someone who had debated staying in bed and lost, hovering awkwardly as if unsure whether to advance or retreat. There was a tension in his posture that suggested he might bolt back to his room if I raised my voice.

"What do you want?" I asked, my tone flat.

He shifted his weight. "I... um... I had some questions. About the schedule for tomorrow. But if this is a bad time... "

"It is."

He flinched, the reaction immediate.

"Oh. Sorry. I’ll just... " He turned, already halfway to leaving.

"Stop."

He froze mid-step, shoulders going rigid.

I gestured to the stool across from me at the bar. "Sit."

He hesitated for a beat, then walked over slowly and perched on the edge of the stool like someone prepared to flee at the slightest provocation. I slid the tablet across the counter toward him.

"Show me."

He pulled it closer, fingers trembling just enough to be noticeable as he opened the scheduling app. "I was just... uh... double-checking the investor meeting time," he said quickly. "I wanted to make sure I had it right before tomorrow..."

I leaned forward, scanning the screen.

The problem was obvious immediately.

"This is off by an hour."

Noah’s face drained of color. "What? No, I... I checked it... "

I tapped the screen once, sharp and precise. "You checked the wrong time zone. Spain is six hours ahead of the East Coast, not five."

"Oh my god." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t... "

"Fix it."

He started typing immediately, hands shaking as he muttered apologies under his breath, correcting entries as fast as his fingers would allow.

I watched him fumble through the corrections, his fingers clumsy on the glass screen, the faint tremor in his hands betraying how thoroughly I’d unsettled him. Good. He needed to feel the weight of his mistakes... needed to understand that nothing slipped past me.

Not schedules.

Not distractions.

Not the way his eyes had lingered too long on Alexander Hendrix’s photograph earlier.

I set my glass down with a deliberate clink and rose from my stool. Noah didn’t notice at first, too focused on fixing his mistakes.

I moved silently, circling behind him until I stood directly at his back. The stool was high enough that when I placed one hand on each armrest, my arms formed a cage around him, my chest nearly brushing his shoulders.

He froze, breath catching.

I leaned in slowly, letting him feel the heat of my body before I spoke.

"This investor meeting," I murmured, voice low, dangerous, "is off by an hour. I already told you that."

His throat worked as he swallowed. "I... I’m fixing it. I swear."

"Show me."

He tapped frantically, pulling up the correct entry, adjusting the time zone with shaking fingers. I stayed where I was, caging him in, my chin hovering just above his shoulder so that every exhale stirred the fine hairs at his nape.

"Site inspection at nine," I said, pointing to the next line. "You have it listed for ten."

A soft, mortified sound escaped him. He corrected it immediately.

"Sloppy," I whispered against the shell of his ear. "Sloppy work deserves punishment, doesn’t it?"

He didn’t answer... couldn’t, probably... but the way his spine straightened told me everything. My right hand left the armrest and drifted downward, slow and deliberate, until my palm settled on his thigh beneath the lip of the bar. He jolted, but didn’t pull away. Couldn’t, really. Not with me surrounding him like this.

"Eyes on the screen, Noah," I ordered softly. "Don’t move."

He obeyed, staring fixedly at the tablet even as my fingers began tracing lazy circles on the inside of his thigh... light at first, barely pressure, then firmer, inching upward with every pass. I stopped just short of where he wanted me most, letting the denial sink in.

From behind, my other hand slipped beneath the hem of his loose T-shirt, nails dragging lightly down the length of his spine. He shivered hard, a full-body tremor that made the stool creak.

I pressed forward with my hips, subtle but unmistakable, letting him feel the hard line of my cock against the small of his back.

"Already?" I taunted, lips brushing the curve of his neck. "You’re getting hard from this? Pathetic."

A choked little whimper slipped out of him. His cock was straining visibly against the soft fabric of his sweatpants now, a damp spot forming where the head pressed. His typing faltered.

I pinched his nipple through the shirt... sharp, sudden, just hard enough to sting.

"Concentrate," I growled. "Or I’ll make it hurt more."

He gasped, back arching involuntarily, but forced his fingers to keep moving. The tablet screen blurred slightly from the tremor in his hands, but he kept going, correcting every error I pointed out in that same low, relentless voice.

I dragged my teeth along the sensitive skin below his ear, then bit down... hard... on the curve where neck met shoulder. Not enough to break skin, but enough to leave a dark, claiming mark that would bloom purple by morning.

He cried out, a sharp, broken sound, hips jerking forward into empty air.

"Ignore the pain," I murmured against the fresh bruise, licking over it once, soothing and cruel at once. "Type faster."

His breathing came in shallow, desperate pants now, every exhale trembling. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the way his body fought between wanting to lean back into me and wanting to flee the overwhelming intensity.

I let my hand drift higher... just once... brushing the length of his trapped cock through the fabric, a single teasing stroke that dragged a strangled moan from his throat. Then I pulled away entirely.

I stepped back.

The sudden absence of my body made him sway forward, a soft, involuntary sound of loss escaping him as the cool air rushed in where my heat had been.

I straightened my cuffs, voice cool again, as though nothing had happened.

"Good enough for now," I said. "But tomorrow, Noah... I won’t let any more mistakes slide."

He stayed perched on the stool, chest heaving, hands gripping the edge of the bar so hard his knuckles were white, cock throbbing visibly, untouched and aching.

I turned away, leaving him like that... shaking, needy, marked.

He was mine.

And soon, very soon, everyone else would remember that too.