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I don’t even want to think about what’s happening between my thighs. The heat there. The wetness. My body is getting ready for sex. It doesn’t care that we’re in the office. It doesn’t care that he’s my boss, and I’m essentially selling my body to pay the debt.
“Keep your hands where they are. Stay still, Ms. Anderson.”
Mr. Leblanc waits a beat before he glides his hand down the length of my spine. To my waist. Then lower, to my thighs.
Lower, to the hem of my skirt.
He stops again, and I realize in a hot flush that if I stood up right now, if I ran during one of these pauses, he’d let me go.
He wouldn’t follow me.
That makes me want to stay.
He lifts the hem of my skirt, drawing the fabric up and up until it’s at my waist.
Mr. Leblanc makes a low sound in his throat, and then his fingertips are in the waistband of my panties.
I suck in a breath before I suffocate, concentrating hard on keeping my hands on the desk.
He pulls my panties down, settling them just below my ass. Then his hand slides between my thighs and tugs.
Wider.
I spread my feet on the floor another few inches.
“Stay.”
It’s an easy command. Almost like he’d tell a dog to stay. I should be disgusted.
I’m not.
He puts a hand on the curve of my ass. “If someone walked in and saw you right now, what would they think?”
“They’d think you’re a pervert,” I snap, my hands trembling on the desk calendar.
Mr. Leblanc laughs. “Every man is, darling. Especially with a body as sweet as yours. No. If they saw you with your legs apart and your beautiful ass exposed, they’d know you were my little corporate whore, wouldn’t they? Maybe I should use you that way.”
He’s musing, businesslike, just how he is on the phone with people who want him to invest.
“If someone gets a promotion, you could be the bonus. You’ll go into the conference room and service every board member.”
“That’s horrible,” I breathe.
But secretly, awfully, I find the idea hot.
Especially if it was with Mr. Leblanc. Especially if his hand was in my hair. Especially if he made me do it.
“Stay,” he says again.
One heartbeat.
Then his hand is between my legs.
I gasp. It’s not the harsh touch I was expecting, but it’s not exactly gentle. He’s possessive about stroking me there. Exploring. Like he’s testing out what he bought.
One of my thighs tries to sneak inward and trap his hand, but he stops me with a single, disapproving noise.
I’ve become a different person in the last five minutes. A woman who spreads her legs even wider for her boss.
