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Sebastian raises his head just long enough to say, “No one comes in without my permission.”

I want to argue, but his mouth is back on mine, his fingers grasping for the band that ties my hair back. One hard tug and it’s out. My hair falls free.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

The words take root at my core, crackling with an energy that sends an electrical charge through my entire body. I suddenly can’t stand it anymore.

“Fuck me now,” I moan, tearing at his pants, at my skirt, at anything that will get me closer to his skin, his heat, to satisfying the delicious, burning ache between my thighs.

Sebastian’s response is scorching and all-consuming. He pushes me roughly down against the table, working at his fly then shoving his pants and boxers down to free himself.

He jerks my skirt up and my panties down, pulling me to the edge of the table and plunging into me with one rough thrust.

I swear I’m going to shatter, barely managing to muffle my shriek behind a hand clamped over my mouth. I hold on as Sebastian pounds into me.

It’s sexy, it’s rough, and I swear he’s going to split me in half. But fuck, it’s so delicious. Sebastian’s eyes are glazed with pleasure, his forehead glistening with sweat, his breath coming in short gasps, as his fingers dig into my ass and hips while he slams into me over and over again.

Grasping his tie, I yank him down, our mouths crashing together in a failed attempt to muffle the moans and cries. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he pulls me up, still hammering into me as I wrap my legs around his hips.

Each plunge pushes me closer to that peak until my heartbeat rushes in my ears and I’m gasping, stars dancing in front of my eyes, as the world explodes around me and everything turns white.

Sebastian seals his mouth to mine just in time to muffle the cry wrenched from the deepest part of me. I’m gasping and shaking, clinging to him with limbs turned to jelly, as he thrusts a few more times, then buries his face in my neck, groaning his release, one steadying hand on the desk next to me, the other holding me up.

Well, that’s two rules broken in as many days.

But honestly? I don’t really care.

Then someone knocks.

“Mr. King?” Grace’s voice, right outside the door. The handle turns an inch and stops. “Legal sent over the Vance filing. They said you wanted it the second it came in.”

Sebastian goes absolutely still against me. I stop breathing.

“Leave it on your desk,” he says, in a voice so calm and cold that no one would ever guess what’s happening on the other side of the door. “I’m on a call.”

A pause that lasts a year. Then her heels click away down the hall.

We dress in silence. When I walk out ten minutes later, blouse buttoned to the throat and hair back in its ponytail, every head at the assistants’ station is bent over a keyboard. Nobody looks at me. Nobody has to. Grace’s cheeks are bright pink.

By lunch, someone has added a new category to the betting pool.

That night, we agree on one thing without having to say it out loud. Never in that building again. Whatever this is, it can’t be allowed to cost either of us our careers.

13

ISABELLA

“We need to get out of here.”

Sebastian and I glare at each other. We’re at an impasse, and we have to get past it if this grief interview is going to be anything other than a PR disaster.

“What?” Sebastian’s question is pure menace, as though he’s daring me to bring up one more thing before he fires me and has me escorted out of the building.

I repeat it. “We need to get out of here. You’re too stiff, too formal. You’re surrounded by everything you own and stand to lose, and you’re not acting like a person.”

“A COO is a person,” he snaps.

“Not like the rest of us.” My ponytail whips back and forth as I shake my head. “No one who grew up using a private jet with no set destination whenever they want knows what it’s like to live everyday life like the rest of the population.”