Derision (The Broken Bonds 7)

Icy pinpricks needle my skin. I whirl around, moving away from his touch. “Are you…threatening me?”

Unmoved by my accusation, he stands composed before me. Almost bored. “I don’t make threats. I don’t have to. Ironically, the threat was already made earlier. I’m offering my protection. But be assured, it comes at a price.”

I lick my lips, my mouth dry. “Protection from what?”

“Those who mean to corrupt you.”

My brow furrows. “This is the most fucked up thing that has ever happened to me.” And that’s saying a lot, considering the past three years of my life. I take off toward the door. “I’ll put my resignation in on Monday.”

“Stop.” His low command resonates through the room, pulling my body to a halt.

Though I wait to hear him, I don’t turn around, keeping my focus on the door.

“I’ve watched you struggle,” he says, his voice growing closer. “You think you’re unseen, moving through this firm invisible, but I’ve seen you fight and wither, come up for air only to be submerged again. And just as I’ve noticed you, believe me, others have been paying attention, too. I have to admit, it was fascinating. You hide well, but I see you.”

I swallow the bile coating my throat. My pain is so obvious that someone like him has noticed. That realization makes my stomach pitch. God, I’m so tired. Tired of trying to figure out how to fix everything. “Is this some kind of game?”

I can sense his close proximity. The hairs on my skin stand at attention, my body electrified by his nearness. The prospect of him touching me again.

And when he does, my teeth sink into my lip as he takes ahold of my waist, his hands an anchor keeping me tethered as I’m guided toward him.

“It would be easy to say that it is, then let you walk out. That’s exactly what I should do…but I’m just too greedy.”

My mind races, matching the furious beat of my heart. “I promise…I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m loyal to this firm. You can let me go—”

“Loyal is the perfect word, Alexis. I couldn’t have articulated it better. But letting you go isn’t an option.” He sweeps my hair aside, exposing my neck. His warm breath slips over my skin, and I tingle every time he releases one against me.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he continues. “Your mind spinning different outcomes. Trying to figure out the repercussion of each one.” Then his hand is at my neck, his fingers tugging down the zipper of my dress.

“Will this get around the office?” he asks rhetorically, and the loud zip of my dress coming undone slices the air. “Will this affect my job?” Chilly air nips at the bare skin of my back. His coarse palms slide along my skin, pushing the dress off my shoulders. “Do I want to be my boss’s whore?”

I’m paralyzed.

My mind is telling me to run, to seek shelter where this warped, alternate reality can’t reach me, can’t infect me. But my body revolts, responding to his touch—those rough hands that scorch my skin. The connection grounds me, claiming something raw and needy and dangerous within my soul.

“Is that what I’ll be?” I hear myself ask, my head lulling to the side as his domineering hands yank my dress down my body. I start at the vigorous action, but then he’s clasping my arms, his solid form embracing me from behind.

My dress puddles to the floor around my feet. The slip of the material gliding across my skin along its descent leaves a tantalizing longing in its wake. So long…it’s been so long since I’ve wanted anyone to touch me with purpose.

Leap or fall.

His mouth rests at my ear, the feel of his breath drowning out any reservations. “Alexis, you will be so much more than my whore.”

In one quick motion, he has me turned toward his desk. He stands in front of me, his broad shoulders and chest walling me in. My shaky breathing increases as he reaches down and grasps the backside of my thigh. As he draws it up, his hand trails down, slowly and sensually, to my calf—making me question what he does to make his hands so rough.

“Don’t move your leg,” he instructs as he places my foot on the edge of the desk, my heel secure as it catches the ridge. He traces a path back up my leg, his coarse palms snagging my sheer, thigh-high stocking and eliciting a quiver in my stomach.

His eyes stare into mine, daring me to move, to look away. And as he reaches my underwear, I feel as if I’m going to fall into him. Just fall. My lips tremble, and his other hand is there to take that fear.

He rests his thumb over my mouth, traces my bottom lip, as his fingers secure me to him. A grounding touch as I’m slipping, the weight of my body—the pull of the unknown—dragging me under.

“Give me permission to own you, Alexis,” he whispers against my mouth. His finger rims the seam of my underwear, peeling the elastic away from my body. Teasing, toying, sending arousing tremors to my core. He’s barely touching me, and I’m lit aflame.

“What are you asking?” I say, attempting to shake my head, searching for balance. “This is too much.”

His thumb skims over my sex, applying slight pressure to my clit, swirling that needy spot that has me almost buckling. But his hold on my face, his gaze boring into mine, keeps me afloat.

“It’s not enough,” he says. My breasts feel heavy and seeking against his muscular chest the closer he brings me, and soon my body is arching into him. “You understand more than you’re willing to admit. I want you to surrender to me. Let me possess you. I’ve battled my desire for you for so long, I’m willing to break my own rule. All I’m asking is for you to be mine.”