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It had been a week since he’d intentionally kept away from the office, and thus…her. On her first day at work, he’d been overwhelmed by his reaction to her. And then, her reaction to meeting Akash had muddled his brain completely. A sort of madness had overcome him. It was jealousy mixed with possession, lust, and blatant need. And the only way he’d seen fit to overcome this cocktail mix of emotions had been to put some space between her and him.
And, of course, while he was ensuring that he stayed away from her, he’d ensured that Akash stayed away from her too. He didn’t like how close the other man was to her.
Since Akash was working directly under him, it had been easy to take him along for all his meetings outside the office. Rohan pressed his nape. Fuck. He had been behaving jealous and irrational since the day Jiya had arrived to work for him. His illogical emotions had only grown since then, especially when he’d caught Jiya and Akash earlier. They’d been standing too close to one another, her hand on his mouth, a smile painted on her lips, and his fist clutching her red-tipped hair—hair that had caught his own fancy since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. And his obsession had only grown since then.
Pure rage had filled him at that sight. He’d been deliberately curt with her, and then he’d seen them whispering in the conference room.
That was it. His temper had gotten the better of him, and he’d put her on the spot in the meeting. But Jiya hadn’t been fazed at all; she’d confidently replied to his questions and had proven her mettle.
Later on, when she’d approached him all alone, with her sweet smile and her tropical scent, the urge to capture her lips with his had become irresistible, and the only way he’d thought he could overcome it and thus prevent something like that from ever happening was by drawing a line between them—that of boss and employee. But then he’d gone and ruined that by seeking her out again.
He exhaled. He was such a fool. Now he knew what she felt for him. It was the same craving he felt for her. One which was inappropriate and wrong, yet it was only growing.
He wet a napkin and dabbed his chest with it, angry with himself for being unable to control his unruly emotions. His built-in wardrobe inside his ensuite always had spare shirts and a suit for times when he had meetings in the evenings, post work. He pulled out a freshly laundered shirt and shrugged into it. Just as his hands went to the first button, he heard a soft gasp.
He turned. Fuck. Clearly, the universe had decided not to side with him at all today. That was the only reason Jiya was standing at the entrance of his ensuite, staring at him openly, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar, as if she were quite enjoying what she was seeing.
He went to stand in front of her. She licked her lips, still staring at his unbuttoned chest.
“What are you doing here?”
“I…I…” she gulped.
“You need to leave, now,” he growled.
She stood still, her eyes unabashedly roaming over him. They coasted down his shoulders, to his chest, and then lingered to the side of his abs where a long scar cut through—a remnant fromthataccident.
Tension coiled inside him, tightening with every second she boldly took him in. His emotions were all over the place. He’d barely resisted touching her a few moments ago in the conference room, and now she was here, tempting him all over again. His fingers itched to touch her, to pull her closer in his arms, and to breathe in her scent.
“I said you need to go,” he repeated.
She stayed in place, continuing to study him. His heart began to run. An ache spread over him.
He blinked, trying to snap out of whatever madness was weaving itself between them. “Jiya, leave.”
Her lips, those tempting lips, curved. “What happened to Miss Deewan? I thought we were behaving formal.”
Damn, she was a firecracker, and damn, he liked it a lot.
He found himself smiling with her. Her beautiful doe-shaped eyes latched on his mouth. Her own lips parted, and his heart stuttered.
“You’re not supposed to look at me like that,” he whispered.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to devour you.”
Electricity crackled in the air between them, wrapping around them, and pushing them closer.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Will you…devour me?”
“Jiya…fuck. This is not supposed to be happening between us.”
“But, it is.”
Need, want, desire, craving—everything was unfurling inside him, ordering him to stake a claim on what she was offering. He struggled to control all of it, and himself.
She tilted her head, still watching him boldly. One long, loose strand came to rest on her chest, the red tip glowing like a dark ember of fire against her off-white silk shirt. The foolish urge to touch her hair beckoned…loudly.
