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“You have five seconds to explain yourself. Then I’m calling security.”
I stand up, throwing the loose strands of hair behind my ear. I’m not really sure what to say, so I blurt out the first thing I can think of. “I told you. I need that contract.”
“And I told you no.” His voice echoes through the room. Nope. No hiding his anger. I’ll admit, he has me rattled. My knees are shaking, and my palms begin to sweat. His deep frown and dark eyes are eating me whole as they stare me down giving me more than enough reason to be a little freaked out, but if I show him he intimidates me, it’ll only make matters worse. So, I inhale a large breath and lift my chin.
“Well, I don’t accept your answer.”
Stupid, stupid girl, I silently curse myself.
It’s as if watching a match light, setting the fire blazing in his eyes. He takes the towel from his hand and tosses it to the side of the room. One step, two steps, three…shit. I think he’s going to try to strangle me. Four steps, five… Yep, he’s going to strangle me. I take a retreating step and trip backward into his office chair.
“So brave you are.” The words move from his lips, but I can’t take my eyes off his. They have mine locked, fearing his every move. And with each step, my pulse picks up. He oozes sex. Power. Domination. “You think you can just come into my club, break into my office?”
“Well, technically the door wasn’t locked—”
“And just take from me?” His voice raises just enough to send a heatwave of goose bumps down my spine. There’s no time to react when my feet leave the ground as I’m lifted. His rough grip digging into my hips confirm he’s less than happy with me. I’m positive he’s about to toss me through the glass window when he whips us around, sits in his chair, and throws me over his lap. “You know what happens to little foul-mouthed girls who think it’s okay to talk that way to me? To disobey me?”
I squirm under his tight hold. “What are you doing! Let me go!” I yell, trying to climb off his lap. His thighs are hard as stone, and I can smell sweat mingling with the cologne I remember from last night. “Seriously, Psycho Satan, let me go, or I’ll scream.”
“Oh, I hope you do. I enjoy a screamer. But I enjoy a stern disciplining even more.” Before I can decipher his meaning, he yanks down my loose-fitting jeans, and in one swift move, slaps me hard across my butt cheek. The immediate sting has my teeth clenching.
“YOU—”
Again.
And again.
And again. I attempt to fight under his hold until I find myself pleading “Please, stop.” My voice is hoarse. He does as I ask, but his hand still touches me, caresses me, soothes the place where he marked me. His touch is gentle. Calming. An unfamiliar feeling of wanting more blooms in my belly. My hips squirm in a slow grind over his lap without my consent. Each slide of his hand across the stinging of my flesh shoots bolts of electricity straight to my groin, and there’s no mistaking the hardness jabbing into my stomach, spiraling the intensity of…need? Want? Something…more…
“Please,” I whisper again, sounding less upset and more…God, I’m not sure. My skin is on fire. I’m confused at the tightness in my lower belly. The way I’m squeezing my thighs together. “Damien,” I say his name, a plea to make me understand.
His growl echoes in my ears, and I’m no longer in his lap. His arms hug me as he stands, fusing me to him. Using his free hand, he swipes everything off the surface of his desk to the floor, and my butt lands on top. He grabs my ponytail, locking my hair around his fingers. With a tight squeeze, he forces my head back. Our eyes lock, and without invitation, his mouth is on mine. His tongue slides inside, not allowing me any vocal time to object even if I chose to. I’m stone-still, my brain having trouble catching up. I’m being kissed. No, I’m being mauled by a man way out of my league. I seem to have lost my mind, just as he has, because a moan, unfamiliar to me, travels up my throat, and I kiss him back. His tongue tastes like coffee and mint, and it makes me want to taste more of him. My palms reach out, sliding up his hard chest.
His free hand drags my jeans farther down my hips. “Dammit, what in God’s name are you wearing?” he demands, pulling my worn jeans hard enough for the zipper to tear. His strength and determination win over, and my pants fall to my ankles. He kicks them off and presses himself in between my thighs. “Why do you wear such plain clothing?” His fingers begin to tug at the seam of my panties. There’s immediate panic at where he’s about to explore and my heart begins to pound. It’s been forever since anyone but myself has ventured there, and I quickly begin to pull away.
