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Softly.
He runs his fingers between my legs, the back of his hand sliding over the small band of fabric.
Tingles swirl between my thighs.
“Why’d you meet him?”
“I wanted to forget.”
His eyes pull up to me.
“To forget what?”
“You,” I say in a broken voice.
His eyes drop to my lips.
He pulls his hand away from me and steps back, a wall of coldness rising between us.
My legs are about to give in.
His expression changes.
“The only reason I am here,” he says flatly, “is that I want to work for you... if the offer is still on the table.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, barely breathing.
He muses over something, not looking overly excited. Not even pleasantly surprised.
“Okay,” he says dryly and pauses.
My pulse throbs in my neck.
“There’s only one thing,” he says, studying me. “I can’t afford to mess things up.”
“How can you mess things up?”
“Fucking you will mess with your brain. And mine,” he says bluntly.
“I’m not asking you to do anything. Our deal stands. I will not offer you money for sex or make the job offer contingent upon sexual favors. The job is yours. Your life is yours. But I don’t want you to hold back if and when you feel differently. I don’t want that tension between us. I already told you I’m not looking for romance. And you made it clear to me, you weren’t either...”
He listens attentively, his eyes delving into mine.
He purses his lips and gives me a slow once-over that spreads a firestorm over my skin.
“For that to happen...” he says and lifts his gaze. “I need to fuck you the way I want and when I want it.”
I nod.
“The way you want it... When you want it,” I say, wheezing.
“Turn around,” he says, taking me completely by surprise.
My eyebrows flick up with a questioning look.
He cocks his head to the side, daring me to comment.
This battle is already lost. Let’s hope I win the war.
