The Truth

He can satisfy all her needs.

But the thought only serves to piss me off again.

Slowly, I stalk toward Tiffany. She doesn’t move, and I’m not sure who’s the predator and who’s the prey here, but her head is held high, her eyes focused on the window across the room.

“Do you think that behavior is appropriate?” I demand in a low voice, close enough for my breath to tickle her ear. I could take a single step to the side and be pressed against her, but instead I’m right beside her. Even with this distance, I can feel her aura and what she’s doing to me.

“What behavior? Billy asking me to touch him, or me doing it?” she says crisply, her voice just as low as she cuts her eyes to me. Damn it all, she’s amused by all of this. I can see the humor sparkling in her dark eyes.

“Is this a joke to you?” I rasp.

I know the heat of my breath fans across her cheek because she blinks in response before she levels me with her gaze. “I’m not laughing.”

She holds my gaze boldly for another few seconds, neither of us willing to give in. But eventually, she blinks again. I watch as her eyes fall, and for a moment, I think I’ve won, broken her into submission.

But like the strong-willed creature I’m learning she is, she hasn’t given in to anything. She’s choosing where to focus her attention, and in this moment, she’s selected my lips.

Her tongue comes out to the corner of her mouth, and I want nothing more than to kiss her, to lose myself in something I haven’t felt in a long time, something I think I forgot even exists. I want to taste her lips, explore her mouth, wrap her in my arms, and feel her body against mine.

But lust is short-lived and dangerous, especially for someone of my standing.

Still, our breath mingles through the scant inches between us, the smallest surrender I can offer and still look at myself in the mirror later without utter disappointment.

I sense more than see her lean forward the tiniest bit, and it breaks the spell I’m under. I step back, putting a foot of space between us, but it’s not enough, so I walk around the desk and sit in my chair.

I lean back, forcing my hand to relax on the armrest as I let my eyes trace down Tiffany’s body and then slowly return to meet her defiant stare. She plants her hands on my desk, leaning over like she’s the one with power here. And maybe she has . . . a little bit.

But I have more. I feel in control here, powerful and experienced, unlike a moment ago when I would’ve chucked it all to have a tiny taste of this woman I shouldn’t want and can’t have.

She’s gorgeous, dangerously so.

But more dangerous than her good looks might be her cunning mind.

For a moment, I consider if perhaps she set me up for the flash of jealousy, but what motive would that serve? That’s something I need to think about.

“You need to go back to the front desk, Miss Young,” I tell her with as much dismissiveness as I can muster, “and limit your coordination with Vanessa to email, please.”

She looks disappointed, as though she was enjoying whatever this was. But as quickly as that expression flitters across her face, it’s replaced with another.

This one I recognize from seeing it in the mirror . . . determination. She’s not giving up that easily, and instead I’ve just poked the proverbial bear.

Instead of retreating, she leans forward more, planting her elbows on my desk with zero regard for the stack of papers I’ve been working on.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” she purrs, rolling her shoulders and making her breasts move in her blouse.

Forgive me, I look. I can’t help myself, but I instantly regret it when blood rushes to my cock and I grow thick beneath my desk.

Dangerous. Wrong. That’s what this is, but I’m strong and will fight it. “Good afternoon, Miss Young.”

Her face shows the disappointment she feels, but her lips are still curled up slightly at the ends like she’s saying . . . Good move, but there are a lot of rounds left in this particular bout.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.”

She turns, strutting fiercely toward the door, her hips swaying left and right. It might be a side effect of her anger, but she might also be doing it on purpose because each sharp step makes her ass clench and quiver slightly. I can easily imagine it doing the same in response to a good smack. Either a hand . . . or my hips driving my dick into her.

That’s what she needs, I muse, a strong hand.