“No.”
He waited. He figured she’d follow up that word with something. A request. Whatever it was she wanted. When she said nothing, he nearly growled low in his throat. A minute later, she fidgeted in the seat. Actually fidgeted. He’d never seen her do anything like it before. The idea that his intense scrutiny made her squirm actually made him want to yell out a victory cry. Hell, he might even jump up on the desk and do a little dance.
“Well- you won. What can I do for you then? There must be something you want. You name it and I’ll tell you if I’ll grand it.”
Her eyes narrowed further. She blinked those long lashes hard. Twice. “Don’t you mean if the company will grant it?”
“Yes. Of course. But we all know that I’m the company. Matt is a silent partner. He has no say in this.”
Her white, pearl teeth came out to worry at her bottom lip and her eyes darted around the office. The door was still bloody well open. He wasn’t sure what she was so worried about. Her nostrils flared like she was trying to scent the place to determine if the place really lived up to the office rumors as his personal fucking grounds.
Yes, Office Baby, I can assure you it does.
His eyes narrowed in on her lips as they opened and closed. Opened and closed. Just when he thought she wasn’t actually going to be able to say a thing, as nerves or her discomfort or whatever was going on in her head, actually got the better of her, she blurted out the last thing he ever expected her to say.
“I want you to take my virginity.”
CHAPTER 3
Colette
Did she really just say that? The very last thing that she’d ever wanted to say? Did she really just spew that verbal word poison out into the air? Into the air that belonged to her boss’ office, with him sitting right there, presiding over her like a smug judge, jury, and executioner?
She was pretty damn sure she had just spoken out loud the very words she’d rather die than utter.
What the hell was wrong with her?
And why the hell was Blaze Hanson looking at her like she hadn’t just spouted the most ridiculously inappropriate request in the history of ridiculously inappropriate requests? Why were his devastatingly blue eyes narrowing and his tongue sweeping out over his bottom lip, leaving it shiny and glistening? Why was he looking at her like he wanted her to be his next meal and not like he was about to tell her to go pack her things and get the hell out? Why the hell wasn’t he asking her why the ever-living hell she was still a virgin at twenty?
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
Colette had the oddest compulsion to lift her arms up and check how badly she was sweating at the moment. Was she staining her dress? The thing was one of the most expensive ones she owned and sweat stains were a real bitch to get out.
She knew she was sweating between her legs. Or maybe that wasn’t sweat. Because her thighs were also strangely hot and achy and there was a whole lot of weird pulsing going on just above that. Thanks to Blaze’s brutal stare.
He was looking right through her. Not at her.
She was just about to jump up and run, run back to her cubicle and start gathering her things, when he shoved back his office chair and strode to the door, his crazy expensive shoes eating up the floor in long strides.
He slammed the door closed with an audible bang and turned to face her.
One brow arched and his lips nearly turned up his two corners and she realized he was amused by her request. God, he was laughing at her, silently. So, she couldn’t hear it. And that was somehow worse than anything he could have done.
Even if he’d fired her.
“Why?”
She nearly dropped out of the expensive Danish teak chair she was perched on. Why. Not… pack your things. Not… you disgust me. Not… I’m your boss, you twit. Not… are you out of your ever-loving mind asking something like that?
No. Just that one loaded word. Why.
“W-why?” she stammered, her face flushed a bright cherry red. It had to be because it felt like it was on eight shades of fire. Her cheeks flamed so hotly she had to wonder if it was possible to give herself second or third-degree burns.
“Yes. Why.” Blaze crossed his arms over his stacked chest.
His broad shoulders came alive with the movement, muscle rippling and writhing below the expensive charcoal dress shirt. The thing only emphasized the bastard’s triangle like build. Huge shoulders. Powerful chest. Narrow waist. He had the stature of a born athlete, and if the rumors were true, and why the hell wouldn’t they be, he was pretty enough to lick under that clothing.