"Will you go away?" I snap, trying to dodge him.
He's faster than I am, though. His hands span my waist, spinning me until I'm trapped between his body and the wall.There's a heartbeat where nothing happens, and then I feel the hard, relentless line of his cock grinding against my hip.
"Did you behave last night, princess?" he asks, his lips grazing my ear.
I stiffen, outraged by the question. "Go fuck yourself, Asher."
His rough chuckle touches places it shouldn't. "I'll take that as a yes. Did you shower, or did you want to keep my taste on you?"
"Get off me," I hiss.
He just grins, his hand inching lower. "Not yet. You like it when I touch you, even if you won't admit it."
His palm covers the front of my thigh. He squeezes once, slow and deliberate, then pushes my skirt higher with his knee.
"I'm not your toy," I say, but my voice shakes.
His teeth sink into my earlobe in a savage, quick bite. "Yeah, you are. And you fucking love it." The tip of his finger slides beneath my skirt, tracing the waistband of my panties.
I snap my knees together and try to twist away, but he holds me still with ridiculous ease.
"Why are you doing this?" I whisper.
His laugh is a demonic, heavenly sound that grinds against my clit. "Because I like watching you try to resist." He pulls back, his eyes wicked when they meet mine. "I like it even better when you don't."
His lips brush the side of my throat in the sweetest kiss before he releases me all at once, leaving me drooping against the wall, breathing hard.
Homicide is justified in these circumstances, right? I bet, if he were the victim, not a single person on the jury would vote to convict.
He hits the stop button again, and the elevator jerks to life.
When the doors open on the next floor, he's already at the far end, fixing his cuffs, every inch the despotic CEO. I stare at my reflection in the chrome, red-cheeked and shaking.
I want to cry, or scream, or both.
Instead, I go back to my desk and pretend nothing happened, willing the heat to leave my face.
Wednesday is worse.
He puts the plug in as soon as I make it through the door, driving me right to the brink before he stops.
"We have a board meeting," he says, already striding toward the door while I'm still draped over his desk, panting. "Be in the conference room in five minutes."
"I hate you," I mutter, but he just chuckles in response.
By the time I get to the conference room, there are a dozen men and women around a massive conference table, all of them stern and tight-lipped. Asher sits at the head, his gaze unreadable, his voice cold and almost bored as he outlines who they've added to their roster during the last quarter.
I take notes, doing my best to look invisible.
Of course he isn't satisfied with that. Midway through, he calls on me, just to torture me. "Miss Dabry, could you bring me the file on Ace Sterling?"
I'm halfway out of my seat when he stops me with a hand on my shoulder.
"Wait." He leans in, close enough that I can smell the coffee on his breath. "Your lipstick's smudged. Fix it before you come back."
The men at the table hear him and snicker. A couple of the women smirk. My face burns. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I swallow it back and simply nod.
When I return, he doesn't look at me. Instead, he taps his pen on the table until I step closer. He takes the folder from my hands, trailing his thumb over my wrist in a motion so intimate it makes my pulse stutter.
