“Why am I here? Why bring me here to expand this bank, to build partnerships, to trust my proven instincts just to refuse my first attempts?”
“I’m not here to undermine you, Ms. Carter, I assure you. This isn't about ego or spite. The vision for Ridgeview Manor was established long before you came on board. I just hate seeing how Brant has clouded your judgment.”
A physical blow couldn’t have insulted me more. My judgment is just fine, thanks. I’m good at my job—good enough to have bigger branches in better cities bidding for me. Offense doesn't even cover it; I’m mostly just floored by his audacity. What the hell does he know about my relationship with Morgan?
“Clearly, I need to get it said once more: I am here for that judgment, Mr. Tomford. It helped build this bank, Mr. Tomford. I make million-dollar decisions every day—none of them involves falling for a man's 'charms.' Don't confuse my gender with a weakness, and never question my professional integrity again.”
Pushing to my feet, I turn to go. Turning back, I snatch the coffee and croissants off his desk. None for you, sir. I’m out the door in a blur, tossing it all in the nearest trash can. I pause by Liah’s desk long enough to tell her I'm out for the day. She takes one look at me and wisely stays silent. My hands are shaking asI grab my keys, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the marble as I head for the street.
Before I even get behind the wheel of the Rover, I know where I am going. I need to see Morgan. He needs the same reality check I just gave Tomford: whatever is happening between us cannot blur business lines. Period. I won’t let him or anyone else risk making me look a mess. Hooking up with your first big client is messier than I have ever been.
Driving in circles to calm down, I pass first the hotel they were working at, before I recall him in that suit earlier. Damn, he looks fine in a suit. Turning back, I head for his office, a little anxious. Once I get inside, I become a hell of a lot more anxious. I have not seen him in this world yet.
“Uh....I was uh...I am looking for...well, I was hoping to see Mr....”
“Ms. Carter,” his unmistakable husk booms behind me, making me jump. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I turn, cocking my head at him. His eyes widen—he reads the storm on my face in a single glance. Good. He needs to know how to read me, because I don’t have his gift for words. Before I can speak, he catches my hand, tosses a quick word to the clerk, and pulls me inside his office. Before I have a chance to explain myself, he cages me against his door with his body.
“Talk to me, honey. Who do I have to hurt?”
I can’t help it—I smile. Tilting my head back, pressing against him because I love the weight of him, the warmth of him, I shake my head. “No one. I just needed to see you. Nothing else calms me down,” I admit—which I think surprises us both.
“Good. Good girl coming to me,” he hums, lowering his head to brush his mouth over mine. “Still be glad to hurt someone for you, honey. Come here, talk to me.”
Crossing the room, he pulls me along, sitting down with a thud behind his desk. Before I can object, he pulls me down tosettle me on his lap. I go to scramble off, but his powerful arms circle my waist to refuse me. I flush, taking stock of his dark, masculine office. Huge mahogany desk, big leather executive chair....my breath catches as my gaze lands on a painting.
“Bouquet Quadro,” I breathe the title of the Degas work.
“Yes, my favorite,” he murmurs behind me, his lips brushing the side of my neck. I shudder but do not move away. “Degas’ ballerinas always enchanted our mother. This one...I don’t know, it suits me. Suits my space.”
Turning on his lap, I bring a hand up to cradle his face. He is not wrong. It is dark, warm, with the wide, deep strokes that seem almost intimate. Just thinking this has me turned on so I shift to straddle him. His hands slide beneath my blouse, hitting that switch inside of me that I talked about earlier.
“Morgan,” I whisper, shocked by the need in my voice. “I cannot let you distract me. I came here to...to figure life out for myself.”
“Came here, you met me...life figured out honey. I am no distraction, Maren. I am inevitable. We’re fated by something bigger than either of us. You know I saw you before that day at your office? I had no idea it was...you. No idea this beautiful creature I saw glimpses of, felt moving in the same spaces even when I couldn’t see you. We’re destined, Maren.”
Morgan moves fast, twisting me on his lap, bending me forward until I am sprawled over his desk. His hands ruck my skirt up and I gasp when he bares my backside to him. I moan into the leather blotter on his desk when he strikes my left cheek hard, sending a vibration of pleasure to my clit. Then the other side. Left, then right, sending currents of pleasure to my pussy.
“Oh, God, Morgan,” I whimper, glancing back over my shoulder.
“Sometimes I need to prove myself to you. I will do it gladly. Take your panties off, let me see your pussy, honey,” heurges. He could rip them off, push them out of his way—but he needs me to do it. To submit to him.
I do not even hesitate. Reaching back, I hook the scrap of lace thong I am wearing, pulling it aside. It clings to my skin because I am soaked and he groans, smacking each cheek again. My arousal drips down my thighs when he gives me two more spanks, my body shaking.
“Good girl,” he hums, making me recall that day I touched myself in my office, thinking of him. “Do you want me to let you come, honey?”
“No. No, I don’t want to come.”
Two more smacks echo in the dark of his office. “Little liar. Now I might deny you. Take your top off. I want you skin to leather, honey,” he commands, his hand reaching up to knock at the top of his desk. “I want to do all my deals knowing your pretty tits were on my desk while your pussy begged me to let it come.”
Falling back against his chest with a soft thud, I tear at my top, tossing it aside. My skin is so hot as his hand slides up my front, his fingers rough as they yank at my bra. My tits spill out, and I moan as his deft fingers pluck each nipple. More currents of pleasure. I am drowning in it.
This is why I came. Not to pout over my dustup with Mr. Tomford. Not to get off or to be dirty. Not to test boundaries—becauseclearlyhooking up in our offices is not one for either of us. I’m here because I need to stop. I need to quit thinking about the things that consume my days: being perfect, being 'better' because I’m a woman in a man’s world.
“Morgan, please,” I whimper as he twists my nipples in his blunt fingers, my thighs soaked from those currents crashing inside of me. “I need...I need you to...make me let go,” I cry out, my hands slamming on the desk, knocking some pens over, thesound of them skittering over the floor almost making me laugh. We’re bound to get caught in one of our offices.
“Hmm, I know honey,” he whispers against the back of my neck, sliding his hand to my throat. His other slides down between my thighs as he pushes me forward again, bending me over the desk once more. “One look at you, I knew what my girl needed. Knew why you came to me. Because I let you be soft. You let me take over. It is why this is going to work, Maren. Tell me you understand.... that you know what I said earlier is true. Say it.”
