She looks up instantly. Her professional mask slips for just a moment. Underneath is something raw and wanting. Like she was waiting all night for me to call her name.
“Come here,” I order.
She shouldn’t. We both know she shouldn’t.
She comes anyway.
The door closes behind her. I touch the smart glass panel, watching the walls turn opaque.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers.
“The worst.” I pull heragainst me.
She doesn’t resist. Her hands find my chest, not pushing away, just resting there. Feeling my heartbeat. Her eyes are wide and conflicted and beautiful.
“We said this can’t happen again,” she breathes.
“I know what we said,” I growl.
I kiss her. Slower than last night. More deliberate. Tasting her instead of devouring.
Her mouth opens under mine and she makes that small sound in her throat that I’m already addicted to.
I walk her backward until her ass hits my desk. Lift her onto the surface. Step between her thighs.
This is wrong.
I know it’s wrong.
The power dynamic alone makes this unacceptable.
But I can’t fucking stop.
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. Her fingers work at my tie, loosening it. I cup her face in my hands, angle her head, deepen the kiss.
This woman is going to fucking destroy me.
And I’m going to let her.
I reach for the buttons of her blouse. Get two undone before she grabs my wrists.
“Wait,” she says urgently.
I stop immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“This.” She gestures between us. At the desk. At the opaque walls hiding us from an empty office. “This can’t happen. Especially not here. Not at work.”
She’s right.
Fuck.
She’s right.
I step back. Run a hand through my hair. Try to get my breathing under control. My cock is stillstraining against my all-too-tight trousers, and I grimace at the pain.
“You should go home,” I say.
“Yeah.” She slides off the desk, buttons her blouse with shaking hands. “I should.”
