Page 19 of Mr. Perfect

“No,” she sneers. “I really don’t. I want to walk out of here, send my letter, and say goodbye to you forever.”

“Well,” I say, inching around one side of the desk. She does the same, her eyes darting to the door, like she’s going to make a run for it. “That’s not going to happen. You’re going to accept my apology, calm down, and talk this over with me like an adult.”

“You’re the adult? Really?” She eyes the door again and then makes her move. I cut her off. She switches direction. I trip over a metal trashcan, making the whole office erupt with commotion, and make a grab for her arm as she whips past me. My fingers only catch the silk sash of her blouse and it comes flying open. She keeps running, but her shirt… her shirt is still in my hands.

And then Ellie Hatcher is mortified. Because she is baring her breasts to me in all their splendor. “How dare you,” she snarls.

I expect her to cover herself, but she doesn’t. She stands perfectly straight, her nipples hard and peaked, her face flushed crimson with rage, or embarrassment, or hell, maybe she’s turned on?

That thought alone is enough to turn me on.

I hold the shirt up. “Trade you,” I say, a chuckle escaping before I can stop it.

“Is everything a game to you, Mr. Stonewall? Do you think this is funny?”

“No,” I say, wiggling her shirt in the air. “Not at all. I just want to put your clothes back on you, Miss Hatcher.”

She tilts her chin up and then walks over to me and snatches her blouse from my hand. Her eyes never leave mine.

I wish I could say the same. My eyes are already out of control. My hands are next. I have her firm breasts in my palms before I can think twice. She moans, leans into me. The blouse falls to the floor with a flutter.

And then I’m bending her over the desk, my hands on her shoulders, her eyes wide with surprise. I push as she resists. “What are you doing?” she pants, her hands coming up to try to slap mine away.

“What I’ve wanted to do since this morning,” I say back. “Since you’re no longer an employee, it’s not as inappropriate as it was.”

“So now you want me to quit?”

I cock my head to the side as she relents. Gives up her fight and lies back on the metal desk, her back buckling a little. Probably from the cold. I kick her legs open with my foot and ease between them, leaning over her body, grabbing her by both wrists as I hike them above her head and press my cock into her lower stomach.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Stop,” she moans.

“Mean it,” I say back. “Or don’t say it, Ellie. It’s not a fucking game.”

She opens her eyes. “Maybe I want you to force me?”

“Do you or don’t you?” I ask. My cock is filling with blood, throbbing so bad. I need to fuck this girl right now. Get this weird obsession I have out of my system.

I bind her small wrists with one hand when she doesn’t answer, then cup her breast with the other.

She bites her lip and says, “Fuck.”

“You like that?”

“Me.”

I laugh as I kiss her. Hard and punishing.

“Fuck me, Stonewall. That way I will have a good excuse not to come to work tomorrow. Or ever again for that matter.”

“What?” I say, the spell broken.

“You heard me,” she says sweetly. “Here’s your chance to keep me around or take what you want. Fuck me. Right now. Hard and fast and any way you want. But if you do, I’ll walk out and never come back.”

I stand up straight and back off. “How can you look so sweet and be so ruthless at the same time? I mean, hell, I’d expect it from Ellen Abraham—”

“Ellen Abraham? That red-head tramp who interrupted us this morning? What did you do, fuck her in the stairs after I walked away?” She sits up, places both hands on my chest, and gives me a shove. “Get out of my way. You’re disgusting.”