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I tremble. Heat low in my belly is spiraling outwards, my thighs shaking, and I almost can’t trust myself to stand.
“What if I go lower?” Caleb muses, his voice casual, as if he’s wondering what to order for dinner. “I bet you taste delicious. I bet you would make the sweetest sounds, coming on my tongue.”
Oh God. I know that I should pull away, but no one has ever spoken to me like this. So filthy. So shocking.
So utterly sexy.
This isn’t fair. My body and my rational mind are at war. My brain is screaming at me even as Caleb trails his finger down my cheek, down to my bare collarbone, a burning path that promises so much more.
“I told myself I would stay away, after that first kiss,” he muses. “I was determined to be professional. But then today…”
“It was a mistake,” I breathe, quivering. Aching for him.
“Was it?” he counters, eyes fixed on mine. “Or was it destiny?”
His fingers slide lower, toying with the belt on my robe. It’s all that’s keeping it closed. One tug, and it would be over.
I would be naked. And Caleb?
He would show me exactly why he has his all-star reputation.
And then what?
My voice of reason pipes up in the back of my mind. You’d have one night of wild pleasure, and then what happens?
I pause, finally thinking clearly again. If I surrender to him now, I would be a conquest, one of a hundred.
He wouldn’t trust me. He definitely wouldn’t keep me around in the office.
And my chance of security—of my mom’s future—would be gone.
“No.”
I pull away, my voice emerging stronger this time. “No, this can’t happen. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but this job matters to me. I won’t jeopardize it by crossing the line with you.”
Caleb studies me, quizzical. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.” I draw in another breath, finding a reserve of determination I didn’t know existed. “You may not be used to women turning you down, but I hope you’ll respect my decision.”
Anger flashes in his eyes at the implication. “You think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know you,” I reply simply.
“Well, let me assure you, Miss Nichols,” he says, exaggeratedly polite. “I have no interest in pursuing someone against her will. I prefer my women begging for me. On their knees.”
This time, his crude words are designed to shock me, but I won’t rise to the bait. “Then, goodbye.” I open the door for him. “I’ll see you in the office, tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he agrees, looking furious—and frustrated.
He’s not the only one.
As I slam the door behind him, my legs give way, and I have to lean against the counter and catch my breath.
I can’t believe I just turned him down. And my body can’t either—it’s still slick and aching for him, aroused as hell.
Why does the one man who’s ever made me feel this way have to be the one man I absolutely can never have?
I let out a groan, turning to go hurl myself into bed. That’s when I notice something glittering on the floor by the bookcase. I lean down, and find a very expensive-looking, diamond-stud cufflink. It must have fallen when he was browsing my books.
