I am pressed up against her back, every inch of her touching me. I can feel the curve of her ass against my hard cock, separated only by our clothes. Every rapid breath she takes makes her body shift against mine. Every tremor running through her frame echoes through my own.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinding against her.
Her scent is overwhelming this close. The desire I smelled earlier is stronger now, mixing with anger and frustration and ferocity.
“You picked up a lot of skills in your six years away,” I murmur against her ear, keeping my voice low. Controlled. Even though control is the last thing I feel right now. “I’m curious what school taught you to fight like that.”
She tries to jerk her arms free. I tighten my grip just enough to keep her still.
“Let me go.” Her voice is breathless. Shaky.
My free hand moves to her waist, trying to steady her. The contact is electric, sending heat racing through my veins. I feel her desire intensify. I love the way her body responds to mine even as she fights it.
I release her wrists abruptly, stepping back before I do something irreversible. Like spin her around and kiss her until she stops pretending she doesn’t feel this pull between us.
She turns around slowly until her back is againstthe wall. Her wrists are slightly red from my grip. She rubs them absently, staring at me with those wide, hazel eyes.
“Tell Julian not to touch you again,” I say sternly.
Her body locks up. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“What are you talking about?” Confusion bleeds into her voice. “Julian didn’t—”
“I can smell him on you.” The jealousy in my voice is impossible to hide now. “His scent. On your shoulder.”
I see the moment when she remembers it happening. Then, a look of puzzlement crosses her face, like she can’t comprehend why Julian touching her would matter to me—or why some traitorous part of her is responding positively to my jealousy.
“If you let anyone in the office bully you again,” I say, my voice dropping to a warning growl, “I’ll punish you for it.”
Her pupils dilate. “Punish me?” Her voice cracks on the words.
A dark possessiveness unfurls in my chest at the way she’s looking at me. Like she can’t decide if she’s terrified or intrigued.
“I can be very creative,” I say softly.
She flushes. Pink spreads across her cheeks, down her throat, and beneath the collar of her dress. She is completely flustered. She doesn’t know how to process what is happening between us.
Suddenly, her expression shutters. “This was my good dress,” she snaps, looking down at it. “And you got your cigarette smoke all over it.”
She pushes past me, her shoulder deliberately knocking into my arm as she storms off.
I watch her go, my chest heaving, my hands still trembling with the urge to go after her. To grab her again. To pull her back. To never let her leave.
I pull out another cigarette and place it between my lips. My lighter is already in my hand when I pause.
That disgusted look on her face. The way she cringed at the smell.
Slowly, I lower the lighter. I take the cigarette from my mouth andstare at it. Then, I crush the entire pack in my fist and throw it in the trash. The lighter is next.
I stand there in the empty corridor, Violet’s scent still clinging to my clothes.
Two days down.
I don’t know how many more I can survive.
Chapter Five
