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"Let go, Tanya," Vigo urged, his own composure fraying at the edges. "I've got you."
And she did. With a release that shattered her more thoroughly than any test run of a prototype, Tanya climaxed again, waves of pleasure radiating from the core of her being. It was raw, unscripted—a narrative of flesh and soul that no amount of data could predict or contain. Her name, falling from Vigo's lips as he followed her over the edge, was the sweetest epilogue to their shared ascent.
"Damn, Ricci," Tanya exhaled once she could find her breath, "you're going to revolutionize the industry if you keep this up."
"Only if I'm with you," he countered, the afterglow not dimming the sharpness of his wit.
As they lay entwined, the weight of their actions began to press upon them like the silence that follows a storm. They'd crossed lines, professionally and personally, but in that moment, Tanya couldn't bring herself to care.
"Thank you," she murmured, her lips brushing against his skin. It was a whisper of gratitude—for the trust, for the discovery, for the unexpected tenderness that seemed to stitch the fraying edges of her world.
"Any time," Vigo replied, his arms tightening around her. "For science, of course."
"God, I love data analysis." The words tumbled out amidst the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep and untouched. The irony wasn't lost on her; control had always been her mantra, but this—this surrender—was a revelation.
"Best field research ever," Vigo agreed, looking down at the vibrator that had heightened the experience between them.
He looked over at his notepad and pen. His lower lip pursed up into his upper lip. Behind his gaze, she saw it. He was calculating.
Is that all this was to him? All she was to him? Another data point?
She was still in his arms, but his mind was miles away. A torrent of doubts and questions began to swirl in Tanya's head. The warmth of his hold contrasted sharply with the cold tendrils of uncertainty that crept into her thoughts. She couldn't help but wonder if this was just another variable in an experiment for Vigo, the scientist always in search of data and results.
The rational part of her, the CEO, the leader, knew the boundaries—she was his boss, and their relationship was supposed to be professional. Climbing into this chair, she had crossed a line. But she had no regrets. What she did have were doubts.
Tanya had come to rely on Vigo. Not just to get her off. He was the only person in this office that she didn't have to question, whose work she didn't need to double-check, who she didn't worry would make a mistake that would come back to bite her in the ass. But now, as she lay with her bare ass cradled in the leather chair and his cock still semi hard between her thighs, she was doubting him.
On one hand, there was Vigo, the engineer, whose life revolved around data, efficiency, and results. Could his actions have been driven by a calculated hypothesis, an experiment to see her response?
On the other hand, there was the Vigo she had come to know—thoughtful, dedicated, and unexpectedly gentle. The way he looked at her sometimes with a hint of something more in his eyes, suggested that perhaps, just perhaps, his feelings might mirror her own.
The doubt lingered, gnawing at her normally practical sensibilities. The idea that her emotions, so raw and real, might just be a data point in his analytical mind, was both disconcerting and distressing. Because, she realized, she had developed real feelings for him.
"Hey, Tanya, I think I left?—"
Nick's voice sliced through the silence, and time hiccupped. Tanya's eyes flew up, locking on to Nick’s wide ones that mirrored her horror. His figure froze, framed by the doorway.
CHAPTER8
VIGO
Vigo leaned against Tanya's office door. It was closed, and the lights were out. She always beat him in, except for this morning. He'd spent the night in the lab—in the chair where they'd been together. Her scent still lingered. It was the only thing that had allowed his mind to relax after she'd dashed out of the room behind Nick Kringle.
Now she walked toward him. Her gait was all business, her face an unreadable mask of professionalism. It was as if the lab tests and the warmth of her skin against his were figments of another man's imagination.
"Good morning, Mr. Ricci," she greeted him crisply, not a strand of her wavy brown hair out of place nor a hint of last night's vulnerability in her voice.
"Good morning, Ms. Kringle." His words were heavy with unspoken desire. He knew then, with acute clarity, that being near Tanya without the freedom to touch her intimately would be an exquisite torture he couldn't bear. He itched for pen and paper to calculate how to get back beneath her skirt. No—to get into her heart because there he would find the complete access he sought.
His heart rate increased at the sight of her. His pulse involuntarily quickened as she drew near. His palms turned warm and slightly clammy as he took her in. If there were a mirror present, he knew he would see that his pupils had dilated. It was as if his body was trying to take in more of her, to see her more clearly, a sign that spoke volumes to his logical mind.
He knew the basic biology, of course—adrenaline, the fight-or-flight response—but this was different. This was not about stress or danger; it was anticipation, excitement, something far more complex. He was used to observing variables and analyzing data, not being the subject of his own study. Yet the signs were unmistakable and, to his analytical mind, intriguing.
He was in love with Tanya Kringle.
"Come with me," she said abruptly, gesturing with a flick of her wrist for him to follow. No room for argument, classic Tanya.
They walked past her office and into her brother's. Without knocking, Tanya stormed in and had to immediately halt and avert her gaze. Troy's lips detached from those of his girlfriend—a fellow toy engineer—both looking like kids caught with hands in the cookie jar. They pulled apart reluctantly, their breaths mingling in the space between them.
