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Before I can make anything of it, the majority of the people suddenly get off at the fourth floor, and as they do, hot, scalding coffee is tossed on my face. I cry out and stumble back, only to be shoved forward, one of the people behind me, hissing, "Watch it!"
My eyes and face are burning, and I get off on the next floor, rushing to the bathroom. Thankfully, there are only two women in the bathroom, and they snicker when they see me. I wash off the coffee stains, staring at the redness all over my face. Thankfully, the burn marks will disappear in a couple of hours. My blue shirt is badly stained, and I try to clean it but the stain doesn't come off, and it only gets worse. I could always go home and change, but it would take me an hour to do so, and Adam has meetings starting in half an hour.
"Excuse me," I look at one of the women, "do you have a spare shirt I could borrow?"
The woman rolls her eyes. "We don't keep extra shirts in the office. We don't need them since we don't spend our working hours on our backs like you do."
Saying that, both the women leave. I stare after them, my face flushing in humiliation.
I haven't forgotten what Sharon said about me being Norman's plaything. I never knew such a rumor existed, but if the people in this office believe it, then there's nothing I can do to change their minds about me. I stare down at my hands, feeling drained. My face hurts, as does my neck and chest, wherever the hot coffee had splashed on me.
Under the hopelessness is anger.
I'm so sick of being treated like this.
If it's not Jonathon and Norman, it's someone else. Everybody seems to think they can treat me like trash and I'll just take it. But I'm close to reaching my limit now. If they're going to treat me like this, then I'm going to begin returning the favor. If they want to be jerks to me, I can be one right back!
I storm upstairs to my office, and Adam is entering just as I'm rifling through his wardrobe in his office. He stares at me. "What are you doing?"
"I need a shirt," I snap. "Do you have a problem with that?"
He raises a brow. "No."
Adam approaches me, and I see the way his lips tighten. "You want to tell me what happened to your face?"
"Your employees threw coffee on me." I take out a shirt of his and sniff it. "Not one, but all of them. I asked for a shirt in the bathroom, but I was informed that tramps like me deserve this treatment."
Adam grabs me by the shoulder and whirls me around. The anger in his eyes fades at the sight of the glistening tears in my eyes.
"Cynthia––"
"I'm not crying!" I push his hands away, my blood boiling, "I'm pissed. If everyone is so fucking determined to put the label of slut on me, might as well become one, right?"
"Wh––"
I grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him toward me, slamming my mouth on his. I don't know what I'm doing, but the moment his mouth presses against mine, a vicious heat blooms inside of me. Adam doesn't push me away, his hands settling around my waist, his grip tight enough to leave marks under my shirt. His kiss is just as rough as he takes and takes from me. Where I had initiated the kiss, he wrenches control from me, walking me back into the wall. His mouth moves against mine with a hard dominance, and his hands glide up my sides, brushing against my chest until he yanks my hands up suddenly, pinning them by the wrists above my head. His other hand glides down and rubs against the bottom seam of my pants, right where my most sensitive area is. My body arches as it remembers the sensations of our night together, and when he moves his handroughly, his fingers pressing into delicate skin through rough material, I let out a sobbing gasp.
He doesn't stop, and I tremble, my legs feeling weak, as the movement of his fingers pushes me into a never-ending desire. And when I fall, it's into his arms, his lips now trailing over my neck and jaw, his hand having released my wrists.
I'm shaking and he holds me close. "Feeling better?"
"No."
He lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, I wasn't going to take off your clothes in my office."
I feel embarrassed. "I wasn't planning to - I was just angry. You should have pushed me away."
"My fated mate wants to kiss me, and I should push her away?" Adam gives me an incredulous look. "You must take me for a fool."
"But it just proves what––"
"No," Adam says, his voice hard. "You and I were fated for each other. You're mine, Cynthia. You will always be mine, just as I am yours. You have every right to my body as I do yours."
His lips brush against my forehead in a sweet kiss, "I know you're angry, and I'm so happy that you took it out on me. In fact, feel free to take out your anger on me at any time of the day. In fact, if you're home and feeling worked up and need me, just give me a call. I guarantee we'll have more fun––"
I cover his mouth, my face feeling hot. "Okay, you've said quite enough."
He grins. "I could always say more."
