“Come in, Miss Wilde.”
The door’s unlocked. I enter to find him seated behind his desk—the desk that I was bent over just a few nights ago. “How did you know it was me?”
Chase looks up from his laptop, his eyebrows raised. God, but it was just yesterday that his hands were on me, that he was inside me, and I’m still spellbound by his sex appeal. The way his toned body fills out a suit should be a sin.
“Julia,” he says in answer. “I told her to instruct you to report to me.” Pushing his chair back, he rises with graceful but purposeful movements, coming around his desk.
I lower my gaze as he approaches. “Do you need anything—?”
His fingers clasp my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “There are rules,” he says, his deep voice sliding over me like an abrasive touch. “You’re still in training, so it’s time you learn them.”
An ache lodges in my throat as I try to nod, then say, “Yes, sir.”
This Chase—he’s the same, but not. Was he not there with me yesterday? Did he not feel what I did? Or does he feel things differently? I find it impossible that he didn’t experience that moment between us on the same, profound level. But his demeanor is just as cold and rigid as when he first approached me in the hallway.
Maybe he’s right; I’m still in training, still learning. Maybe he experiences that kind of connection with every woman he takes so brutally—and I’m the inexperienced, the sheltered girl who tastes it for the first time and confuses sex with love.
Regardless, I’m here. I’m committed. I couldn’t walk away from him if I wanted to. And I don’t. I have to accept that Chase has…layers. Some of which I may never penetrate.
“When you enter my office,” he says, walking toward his desk where he leans, “you’re to kneel here”—he points to the place where he had me k
neel before—“and wait for me to instruct you.”
I obey without question. Lowering myself onto my knees, I assume the knelt position, my heels to my ass. Thankfully, I’m not wearing stilettos, and my two-inch heels rest comfortably enough against my backside.
I bring my chin to my chest as he stands before me.
“You’re no longer just another paralegal in my department. You’re mine, and as such, you’re required to dress like it.”
A pang reverberates through my chest. I hunted through my closet all morning, trying to find clothes that would please him. In the end, I chose a white dress shirt and pencil skirt. Simple, yet tasteful.
“Julia has access to my account. She’ll take you shopping this evening.”
A flutter of anger bubbles to the surface. “I have money,” I say.
He doesn’t reprimand me right away, and I stay silent, my breath bated. “Yes, you do. A twenty percent bump in your salary, in fact.” Then he’s closer, his polished shoes entering my vision. “That’s not the point, however. You’re mine to do as I please with, and my pleasure results from you wearing the clothing I choose and provide.”
Like a kept whore. Just as quickly, I push the thought away. I’m not angry with Chase’s ways, his desires. I understood them when I accepted, willingly, to be his sub. I’m furious with his ability to ice me out with his stone walls.
“Yes, sir,” I say, softening my voice. “Thank you.”
“Are you wearing it?”
His abrupt question heats my face, and the scent of his arousing cologne is like a punishment. Tormenting me with the man I can’t stop craving. “Yes, sir.” I almost didn’t…but I knew if I didn’t insert the anal plug this morning, as he requested before he dropped me off yesterday, then I’d be punished. And as his rewards have been near punishments all of their own—just as he avowed his love would be—I’m not yet prepared for his wrath.
From my peripheral, I glimpse him adjust the hard bulge in his slacks. A buzz of warmth spreads between my thighs, initiating a deep ache at the thought of me turning him on.
“Good,” he says, his voice more gruff, more revealing. “That’s all for now. Return to your office and start on the Bates brief.” His feet leave my sight as he moves away. “We need to have one ready to present in the event the ACA moves for a pre-trial.”
My brow furrows. “She’s filing charges?” I ask, then hurriedly amend. “Sir. I don’t understand. With what evidence?”
“Stand up,” he orders.
I go to place my hand on the floor to give myself leverage, but his hand is already there, offering me his assistance. I slide my palm against his, savoring the roughness, the coarse heat my skin craves.
He helps me rise to my feet, our gazes locking. Then he straightens his back, pulling away from me. “The Commonwealth are claiming the metadata was hacked. We need an IT expert to refute this.” His blue eyes flick over my face, his mouth pressed in a hard line. “The partners and I are working on that strategy, so I need you and Julia to make sure you cover every minute of the metadata in the brief. Our evidence needs to be solid.”
“Yes, sir.” I glance up at him. “Is that all you need?”