Oops I Banged the CEO novel Chapter 46

“Call William from my phone and ask if he’s finished up downstairs.”

Marico’s voice was low as he murmured to Yvonne, who was nestled in his arms.

The moment Yvonne realized the tense moment had passed, she perked up at once. “Where’s your phone?”

“Right pocket of my slacks.”

“Oh.” Yvonne responded sweetly, then reached down between the two of them, her small hand slipping toward his right pocket.

Intent on getting it over with quickly, she reached right for the pocket’s edge and slid her hand inside to fish out the phone.

The thing was, Yvonne didn’t really understand how men’s dress pants were cut. Her hand dove in, and—

Yvonne: ??

She heard his voice, deep and rougher than usual, vibrating with something she couldn’t quite name.

Startled, Yvonne looked up. His sharply defined face was so close, and the way his eyes bore down at her—there was a heat in them, a smolder that made her skin prickle.

Yvonne blinked, caught off guard, looking every bit the innocent.

“The phone…” she mumbled.

“Hm?” Marico’s voice was nothing like his usual cool, composed tone. There was restraint there now, thick and unmistakable.

“Huh?”

Yvonne blinked again, wide-eyed and clueless, stubbornly playing the innocent. Her soft little hand, paired with that harmless look, made her seem even more naive.

Marico’s jaw was tense, his gaze intense and dark with barely checked emotion. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his voice low and tight. “Huh what?”

“Um…” Yvonne’s brows furrowed, and then realization hit her. Heat flushed up her cheeks.

Her bright eyes darted like a startled kitten’s, her throat suddenly dry. “I… thought that was your phone.”

“You’ve reached into my pocket before, Yvonne. Are you sure it was a mistake?” Marico watched her face, a slow, hoarse laugh rumbling from him.

Yvonne bit her lip, her pretty face turning as red as a boiled shrimp. She tried to curl herself into the smallest ball possible.

Yvonne, still flushed and tipsy, couldn’t help but giggle. “Mr. Hamilton, you’re really, really handsome. No matter how I look at you, you’re just so good-looking.”

“Yvonne, if you call me that again, I might not be able to restrain myself when we get home,” Marico replied, his voice even huskier as he tried to keep his composure.

“Oh? What should I call you then?”

He turned his gaze back to her, an eyebrow raised. “What do you think?”

Yvonne shook her head. “I don’t know. I think ‘Mr. Hamilton’ is just fine.”

Always clear about her place—by day, she worked for him at his company; by night, she worked for him at his house. The boundaries were set, and she wasn’t about to cross them.

A sleek black Bentley pulled up ahead, its headlights flashing.

William quickly got out and opened the rear door.

Marico carefully set the woman in his arms down onto the seat.