The fear that I wouldn’t see her again filled me with anguish, but the idea of what I’d do to her when she was back in my life drove me. Not even the frigid water plunge was enough to keep my throbbing erection at bay.
Back in the penthouse, I’d hit the shower and masturbated. Once. Then twice.
I’d been unable to sleep, so I’d poured a Bonds whiskey and paced for hours, trying to come up with ways to ensure she couldn’t get away. Being my housekeeper wouldn’t be enough. After all, I’ll be moving back home once the vultures find another carcass to pick over.
And I came up with the perfect plan. Make her a proposition she couldn’t refuse.
The contract I was prepared to offer had to be enough. But the truth was, I’d have given her any damn thing she asked for.
Why I was willing to break my own rules, I have no idea.
Liar.
I’d wanted her when she was my intern.
Since then, I’ve gone through women with no regard.
And it’s probably why I’d reacted so out of character and brutally fired her when she challenged me at that board meeting.
I’d thought we were on the same page, and when she stood and began to talk, I’d been gutted. And I behaved irrationally.
Even at the time, I’d known it.
But after everything in my past—my mother, my father’s constant warnings—Seraphina’s betrayal had hit me hard.
And I made her pay the price.
Now? God, I ache to make things right.
But more than she will ever know, I fucking paid a price too. Loneliness. Emptiness. Being more of an asshole than I already was.
I’ve lost friends and supporters.
And I deserve every bit of it.
If I hadn’t been a world class prick? Who knows?
But this morning, I’d kissed her. And having her in my arms was like being pulled back from the edge.
Then came her outrageous demand that there be no touching.
But I’m determined there will be a workaround.
I won’t be satisfied until she’s beneath me, screaming my name, wearing my handprint on her curvy ass, sucking my dick, crying out as I deny her orgasm again and again, edging her, forcing her to hold back until I give her one that devastates her.
My motions clipped but controlled, I fill my cup. Then I slam the carafe back into its cradle with more force than I need to, making the glass rattle. Even this will get fixed.
She’ll stand here tomorrow morning, soft lips parted as she tastes the first sip, and she’ll tell me exactly what I’ve done wrong—with the coffee. Maybe with everything.
My cock twitches at that thought. She’s mine. Sooner or later, she’ll choke on that truth and beg me for more.
The bitter coffee scalds my tongue. Good. Maybe pain will chase her taste out of my mouth.
Annoyed by the quiet in the office suite, I stride to my desk and drop into my chair.
Moments later, the door clicks open.
Finally.
