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I swallow my nerves and step inside.
The room is similar to mine, neat, with a modern feel.
He closes the door behind me and when I spin around to face him, I suddenly feel like I stepped into the lion's den. He looks me over from head to toe, a flicker of something primal crossing his face.
"Want some wine?" he offers, brushing past me to pull out a bottle of merlot from the mini-fridge.
"Sure," I reply, grateful for something to do with my hands. I watch as he pours two glasses of red wine, his tattoos moving with each motion.
I walk over to the end of the king-size bed and take a seat, ready to talk and clear up the tension between us. He hands me a glass, and our fingers brush briefly. The touch sends a small shiver through me.
"So, are we gonna dance around the reason why you took a later flight, or just cut to the chase?" he asks.
I take a sip of my wine, a bit thrown off by how direct he's being. "The chase?" I echo, trying to seem nonchalant.
He chuckles lightly. "Come on, Quinn. You know what I'm talking about. The spark between us. It's been there since day one."
I shrug, playing it cool. "So?"
He looks at me, slightly confused. "So? Just 'so'?" He takes a sip of his wine, eyeing me carefully.
I nod, trying to downplay the situation. "Yeah, so. That doesn't mean we should act on it."
I can tell he sees right through me as he sets his wine down and steps closer to me. "What did Marissa say after she caught us? She asks you anything?"
I shake my head, remembering the awkward moment. "Not much. Told her it was a drunken mistake. She agreed to keep quiet."
He reaches out, gently taking the wine glass from my hand and setting it on the floor. "But was it just a drunken mistake?" he asks, his voice low and husky causing goosebumps to rise.
I scoot back slightly, feeling the heat of the moment. "I... I don't know," I whisper, my heart racing.
Now he's right there, his knee on the bed, leaning in closer. "And back in the boardroom, you almost kissed me. Remember?" he reminds me softly.
My nerves are on edge as Weston moves closer, practically lying between my legs. I keep inching back until I'm almost up against the headboard. It's been so long since a man's been this intimately close to me. I almost don't know how to act or even what to do.
His eyes lock with mine, filled with a certainty that takes my breath away. "Quinn, ever since you first came into my office, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. And honestly, I don't want to."
In a quick move, he grabs my ankles and pulls me down the bed. I'm flat on my back now, looking right up at him.
"You're meant to be on my mind, gorgeous," he says softly, and the way he calls me 'gorgeous' just adds to the butterflies in my stomach.
He starts taking off my shoes, and my mind races."Oh God, is this happening? Am I ready for this?"
As my second shoe hits the floor, I suddenly get cold feet, literally and figuratively. The reality of the situation – him being my boss – hits hard. In a reflex, I start to sit up, wanting to pause, to think.
But before I can fully rise, Weston leans in and presses his lips against mine. His kiss feels amazing, like something out of a dream. But those doubts in the back of my mind make me push against his chest. He doesn't relent, nor does he break the kiss. Instead, he takes my wrists and guides them above my head. I find myself getting lost in the kiss again and giving in to the pressure of his body against mine. The moment a soft moan escapes my lips, a distinct clicking sound pierces the air.
Pulling back slightly, I look up and see my wrists are no longer in his hands, but instead secured above my head. "Did you just fucking handcuff me?" I ask, shock lacing my voice.
"Yep," he says like it's the most normal thing in the world.
Before I can react, he reaches for the thin fabric of my skin-toned nightgown and rips it open right down the middle. The cold air hits my bare nipples, causing them to harden instantly.
A deep rumble comes from his throat, his eyes narrowing intently as they sweep over me. And when he moves his hand to cup my breast, a fire ignites in my belly. Then, out of nowhere, the promise I made to Leo comes to mind. I felt so guilty for his death that I promised I'd never give myself to another man. I'm supposed to be like a modern nun, but here I am, not exactly sticking to that plan. Despite this, I can't control the way Weston makes me feel.
"You're not here just to chat, Quinn. I'm your fantasy and you are mine. There's no running now."
His hand moves between my legs, his fingers finding its way to my sensitive clit with precision. He applies just the right amount of pressure, and I can feel myself getting extremely wet through my red lace panties. It's been a long time since I've felt this. Myeyes flutter shut and a soft whimper escapes my lips, lost in the sensation he's stirring in me.
