I'm alone in my office when I hear the door click open. My breath catches. He stands there, tall and imposing, his dark eyes locked onto me with an intensity that makes my pulse race. I've never seen him look at me like this beforenot with disapproval, not with indifference, but with something far more dangerous.
"You were caught," he says, his voice low, controlled. "Playing with yourself in my office."
I should be ashamed. I should apologize. But the way he's watching melike he's imagining every detailmakes my skin burn. He steps closer, and I realize this isn't about discipline.
It's about wanting every inch of his body.
He's never been a man who follows rules. And right now, he doesn't seem inclined to start.
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