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Is he... drunk?
“Yes. I waited all day.” I stand, grabbing my purse and the final proposal from my bottom drawer, ready to dart from the room to get to air. This man sucks the oxygen from the room, making my breathing labored.
Pull yourself together, Raven.
That internal pep talk gets more forceful the longer I stand here idly while I watch him set his drink down.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say over my shoulder, heading toward the door.
But he’s quick, grabbing my elbow and stopping me.
He turns me around to face him. Our bodies are so close that our breaths mingle.
Too close.
“Mr. Cavendish?” The name comes out raspy, his proximity doing dangerous things to me.
“Tell me something, Rae,” he says, backing me up until my back hits the wall next to the door. “Were you this... attentive... at all your prior jobs?”
Something about the way he says it throws me off. As though there’s hidden meaning in the words. My brain is too foggy at the moment to compute what he’s saying but alsonotsaying.
“Sir?” I ask dumbly, unable to form a full sentence.
His hand drops from my elbow but lands just at the hem of my dress, connecting with bare skin. I heat under his touch, and it makes its way up my body to my cheeks.
“Charles,” he whispers, and my eyes crook in confusion. “Say my name, Raven.” His hand moves, running up my leg and dragging my dress with it.
I suck in a breath, unable to move. To think.
“Ch-Charles.”
"That’s right, Rae. MyRaeof fucking sunshine. Say it again. Say my fucking name again.”
“Charles.”
Before I can say more or move out of his grasp, his lips crash against mine.
I stumble, knees going a bit slack. His free hand grabs my waist, holding me steady as his tongue begs entrance to my mouth.
My lips part willingly, moaning around the notes of oak and mint on his tongue.
A delectable mix of pure masculinity attacks my senses, rendering me completely helpless to stop this.
I’m lost in him, hands grabbing at his crisp, white shirt. Wanting—needing—more.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s passionate and raw.
A growl works its way up to his chest, and it only lights the fire more. We’re all hands and tongues, and I’m practically crawling up his body.
As quickly as it started, it comes to an abrupt stop.
Charles pulls away, chest heaving. His hands slam against the wall at my head, blocking me in. He stares down at me in a mix of lust, shock, and something darker. Something like anger.
“Did you plan this?” he spits, and my entire body goes rigid.
“W-What?”
“Did. You. Plan. This?” he grits through his teeth, leaning so close, I can hardly breathe.
