"A failing business," he adds, not unkindly. "Medical bills. A mortgage."
My cheeks burn. "That doesn't give you the right—"
"Rights have nothing to do with it." He steps away and moves toward the window, hands in his pockets. "This is about what we both want."
I follow him, desperate to get my point across. “What I want is for you to stop messing with my life!" My voice rises, and I'm glad for the thick walls of his office. "The pool lessons, the photos... now you want to have dinner? What game are you playing?"
He turns to face me, sunlight streaming in behind him. "No games, Jenna. Just an honest request.”
"There's nothing honest about trying to bang someone's wife.”
"I'm not trying tobangyou." His voice remains frustratingly level while mine keeps cracking with emotion. "I'm offering friendship.”
I laugh bitterly. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Call it whatever you want." He steps closer, and I fight the urge to back away. "But don't pretend you're not interested."
I shake my head, my loose hair falling across my face. "You don't know anything about what I want."
"Don't I?" His eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the office, Portland below us, my responsibilities waiting at home. "I've seen the way you look at me, Jenna. I’ve felt the way you respond to my touch."
My throat tightens. "That's... that's not the point."
"Then what is the point?" He's close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Tell me why you're really here."
I can't… I just can't anymore with this guy.
He inches closer. Too close. "You're wrong," he whispers against my ear. "I don't need to shell out some cash to get what I want. I just need to grab it."
I feel myself losing control, and it scares me to death. "Oh, you're so fucking cocky."
"I officially rescind any future proposals. There will be no money. You're absolutely right. You're not a whore, and I’ve been completely out of line. You may go now."
My jaw drops to the floor. Who does this guy think he is? "I may go now?"
"Yes, please go. " He pulls away, and I ache for him. The sudden absence of his warmth leaves me hollow inside, like someone has scooped out my insides with a cold spoon.
My body betrays me completely—my skin prickles with goosebumps, my breath catches in my throat, and there's this terrible, painful emptiness that only he can fill. I lean forward slightly, instinctively chasing his touch before I catch myself.
The space between us feels charged with electricity, crackling with unspoken need. A hint of his cologne—that tangy, distinct scent—still lingers in my nostrils, teasing me, reminding me of how close he was just seconds ago. My fingers twitch at my sides, wanting to reach out, to pull him back against me.
I hate the power he has over me. I hate how my body responds to his without my permission, like it belongs to him instead of me. But I can't deny the physical ache that spreads through me, radiating from my core outward, making me feel both weak and desperately alive at the same time.
I shove him hard.
He recovers quickly. “Do I need to call security? "
I watch him as he walks away from me. I've really done it this time. What must the man think of me? He reaches into his desk. For a chequebook? For a security button?
I huff. I hate him so much, I can't stand it. "And another thing, Mister. You're not as perfect as you think. One of your ears sticks out more than the other… it makes you look goofy.”
His gaze reaches mine, and that maddening smile curves his lips again. "Is that so? I never realized. Thank you so much for bringing that to my attention, Jenna."
Just as he's about to take a seat at his desk, he changes his mind and stands. "Let me show you out," he says cooly, and every syllable grates me — how dare he be so calm and collected, when I just want to rip his head off.
But when we get to the door, he presses me against it, his body claiming mine—and I lose complete control.
I'm his. All his.
