It all should repulse me. It should horrify me.
But instead, it turns me on.
Heat sparks low in my belly, my pussy clenching. My heart pounds against my ribs. My panties are totally soaked. Again.
“God, you feel so good.”
My eyes are locked onto his manhood, my mouth practically watering. I consider running one more time.
Then his eyes snap open.
Something gave me away. Or maybe he just felt my presence. Either way, those dark eyes are open, locked onto mine. My body jolts likeI’mthe one who got caught.
For a long moment, everything is silent. Just me, him, and the room. His breathing is still ragged.
He smiles. I can see what’s happening—he’s daring me to run, daring me to at least look away, daring me to deny what I’m seeing, what I’m hearing.
But I can’t.
His gaze pins me in place, just like it always does. He commands me with his eyes, ordering me without words.
Stay.
Watch.
It’s wrong. So, so wrong.
But my feet don’t move. Not even an inch.
CHAPTER 3
GABBY
To say I’m stunned would be the understatement of the goddamn century.
But there’s no doubt in my mind what he wants, what he’s telling me with nothing more than a narrowing of those gorgeous, dark eyes.
Come here.
I should run. I should scream. I should call HR and blow up this place afterwards for good measure. Instead, I stand there like an idiot, breath hitching, my traitor eyes locked onto the way those corded muscles of his forearms flex and tense with each stroke.
Even caught with his guard down like this, there’s no mistaking his power. He’s in a position that would send most men scrambling under the desk. But not him. With just a look, he’s able to somehow be the one in control here.
The silence is heavy, broken only by the ragged sound of him breathing, the soft noise of his palm against his cock.
Then he lets go of himself. He stands up straight, his cock at full attention, pointing right at me. My pussy clenches even harder, and I bite my lower lip like an idiot, as if weighing the pros and cons of a situation that easily has more cons.
Worst of all, I’m standing there like I’m waiting for orders. Finally, he gives me one.
“Gabriella.” My name on his lips hits me like a shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. I’m drunk off it, drunk off him, inebriated to the core. “Come here.”
He uses the same bossy tone, the one I’ve hated and loved in equal measure over the years. He’s practically daring me to pretend I’m not drawn to him.
My brain shouts out one finalget out of here—now!But it doesn’t do me the slightest bit of good.
I take one step toward him. Then another. My heels click on the wood floor, then are whisper-quiet when I step onto the rug. I get closer, closer, close enough that I can make out the individual veins of his stone-solid cock. I lick my lips again, forcing myself to look into his eyes and not at his dick, as if that won’t put me under his spell even more.
Soon, I’m close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him, his musky cologne mingling with raw pheromones. The twin scents do things to me that I don’t want to admit.
