I scan the photos again. It's true—despite the extensive surveillance, there's nothing truly compromising. Nothing sexual.
"You're still a creep," I hiss, but the accusation doesn't have the bite I intended.
Gray moves closer, his massive frame blocking any escape route. "I'm a hunter, baby girl. It's what I do. I track. I observe. I protect."
"I'm not your prey."
"No." His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "You're my responsibility."
I should push him away. Should be disgusted by the evidence of his obsession plastered all over the walls. Instead, I find myself leaning into his touch, craving the security he represents despite the violation.
What's wrong with me?
"I'm fixing this for you," he says, gesturing to the papers on the desk. "Making calls. Filing paperwork. Calling in favors. Putting pressure on people who can clear your name."
"Why?" My voice cracks on the word.
His eyes darken. "You know why."
Because I'm his. Because he decided I belonged to him the moment he saw my picture. Because in his twisted mind, that gives him the right to document my life, to follow me, to control me.
And God help me, some part of me likes it.
"You're insane," I whisper, but I don't move away when he steps closer, caging me against the desk with his arms.
"I'm thorough," he corrects. "I protect what's mine."
"I'm not yours!"
His smile is predatory. "Your mouth keeps saying that." One large hand slides up my thigh, bunching my dress at the hip. "But your body tells a different story."
I should slap him. Should scream. Should run. Instead, I melt when his fingers find the damp heat between my legs.
"So wet," he murmurs, circling my entrance. "So ready for me. For Daddy."
That word. That fucking word that destroys my resistance every time.
"I hate you," I lie, my hands already reaching for the knot in his towel.
"No, you don't." He lifts me onto the desk with insulting ease, shoving papers aside. "You hate how much you need this. Need me."
His towel falls away, his cock jutting thick and hard between us. I spread my legs without being told, my body betraying any sense of self-preservation.
"Such a naughty baby girl," he growls, positioning himself at my entrance. "Snooping around Daddy's private things."
"Gray—"
"Daddy," he corrects, pushing into me with one smooth stroke that steals my breath. "Say it."
"Daddy," I whisper, shameful heat flooding me at the word. "Please."
He sets a punishing pace, hips snapping against mine, the desk shuddering beneath us. One of his hands grips my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat to his teeth.
"Daddy's gonna fill you up as punishment," he snarls against my skin, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. "Feel me stretching you for my baby?"
I shouldn't want this. Shouldn't crave the filthy things he says. Shouldn't arch into every brutal thrust. But I do. God help me, I do.
"Yes," I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me. "Yes, Daddy."
