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“Come in.” His deep voice penetrates the door.
I open it and peek inside.
He’s sitting on his throne—I mean, seat. His elbows rest on the desk, his fingers intertwined together, his chin resting on them, his gaze lasered on me.
He looks like a king.
A ruler who holds my fate in his hands.
I swallow hard.
“Who do we have here?” The sarcasm in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “Oh yeah, the bad girl who disobeyed me.”
I ignore the snide remark. “You wanted to see me,” I say, stepping into his office.
He jerks his head back, arching his eyebrows in surprise.
“I see you’ve made ‘holy chic’ a permanent motto. I like it. A lot.”
I grin like a fool.
“When I bought my outfit for last night, Andrea had a number of selections she thought would look good on me,” I tell him. “I really liked this one, and it’s so hot in LA, my three-piece suits were unbearable.”
“Come here!” Beckett wiggles a finger, beckoning me.
I drop my iPad, notepad, and handbag on the console table near the door and approach him.
“I want you right here,” he says, swiveling his chair to the side.
I round his desk and stand in front of him.
“You look fucking amazing!” Admiration shines bright in his eyes.
“Thank you.” I blush.
“Turn around,” he tells me.
I give him a twirl.
“Damn, woman.”
He reaches up for my blouse, but in my nervousness I step back.
“I want you right here I said!” He points between his parted legs.
I reposition myself.
He reaches up and undoes two buttons.
It was a struggle to leave one open. Three? I feel naked.
I bring my hands up in an attempt to cover up.
“Don’t hide from me,” he tells me.
I hesitate, but lower my hands.
“Look at you, baby. I barely recognize you.” He runs a hand through my hair, flirting with my shoulders. “A sexy silk blouse. A flirty white skirt. Your hair flowing freely. Impeccably applied makeup that showcases your gorgeous eyes. And those lips…”
