Exposed by Fate (Serve #2)(34)

More shameless cackling.

What is he doing here? She found herself smoothing her hair and smacked her own hand away. After forcing herself to wait an additional ten seconds, Eliza rose and poked her head out the door. What she saw caused a bittersweet smile to tug at the corner of her mouth, even as it broke her heart a little more. Oliver resembled Moses parting the Red Sea, except her co-workers had replaced the body of water, and Oliver happened to be a lot hotter than Moses. Hot didn’t really cover it, actually. He’d gone above and beyond his usual panty-dropping playboy look today. His navy suit was tailored to outline every inch of his muscled, athletic body. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, as if you’d find that hard body dripping wet if you ripped off his shirt. She has pretty sure he’d neglected to shave on purpose. Even twenty feet away from him, his scent hooked around her neck and threatened to drag her toward him.

Their gazes collided across the office. And there it was. The look. I’m already inside you, babe.

Oh, Jesus. She tried not to be obvious about pressing her legs together when a rush of dampness made her panties feel uncomfortably tight. Silky. Her breath sounded like waves crashing in her ears. She commanded her feet to move, bring her back into the office, but his eyes kept her pinned to the spot outside her door. Holy frosted cookies. If he made a move on her right now, she’d raise the white flag of surrender so fast she’d give herself whiplash. Honestly, she should have been ashamed of herself. He’d been with someone else Saturday night and she still wanted him just as bad. More.

“There’s the girl I came to see.” Even his voice sounded different. Gruff. Filled with intent. “You ladies don’t mind me kidnapping her for lunch, do you?” He started toward her. “I’m starving.”

Two woman fell back into their seats.

“Take her,” someone said. “Take her good.”

Eliza finally managed to back into the office. She had no choice. His expression said that when he reached her, he would tear her dress off with his bare hands. Witnesses would be bad. As soon as he cleared the door, he kicked it shut. Backed against her desk, clutching at the edge with her hands, she could only watch him approach with a mixture of awe and appreciation. And something else she really needed to stop feeling.

Oliver planted his hands on either side of her on the desk. An appreciative sound hummed in his throat as he leaned in and buried his nose against her neck. He took a deep breath and groaned. Had he just smelled her? Why did that arouse her so freaking much? “This is just lunch, Eliza. You’re making it very difficult in that dress. I’d barely have to lift it to get inside you.”

She bit back a moan. “Why does it have to be just lunch?”

He ignored her question. “I need you to get up on the desk and spread your legs. Let me see what I’m missing today. Give me something to work for, babe.”

Her confusion was eclipsed by heat, her legs so shaky she couldn’t move to obey. Oliver’s throat worked as he took in her predicament. Oddly, Eliza got the impression he wanted to refrain from touching her, but she couldn’t understand why. Finally, he took a deep breath and boosted her onto the desk, before stepping back quickly. Like she’d burned him. “Oliver?”

“Show me.” His hungry gaze was fixated on her thighs. “Show me my property. Now.”

A shudder wracked her entire body. She understood now. This was her final lesson. The man in front of her was Oliver, the Dominant. Her instructor. Only one half of the Oliver she was in danger of falling for. Oh screw it, she’d fallen. Might as well admit it. She’d fallen for both sides of him, but while his need was real—you couldn’t fake that kind of intensity—it wasn’t reserved for her alone. He’d just called her his property, but it was all part of the illusion. She needed to remember that.

Awareness did nothing to cull the raging lust she felt for him. A pulse throbbed between her thighs. Thighs that were dying to spread for him. Always. Keeping her attention on his face so she could memorize his reaction, Eliza slowly pushed her thighs wide, as far as they would go.

A strangled groan ripped past his lips. “Wet for me, are you? God, I’d like to slap your clit right through that silk. You look like you’d come from five good smacks.”

“Do it,” she whispered unevenly.

He growled. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I thought that was the point.”

“Not entirely. Not anymore.” His handsome features were tight as he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “I didn’t go home with that silly girl Saturday night, Eliza. Now answer me honestly or I will punish your sexy, lying mouth.” He gripped her chin and tilted it up. The fire in his eyes only served to make her more frantic. For his touch. For his instructions. All of it. “Do you honestly believe that after your tight * wrung me dry I’d want something inferior?”

A wave of dizzying want made her eyes flutter closed. If he didn’t have a grip on her chin, she would have swayed off the desk. “I…I don—”

“The correct answer is no. No. Say it immediately.”

“No.”

He shook his head. “I want the whole thing. Say ‘my tight * wrung Oliver dry and now he’s ruined.’ Say it three times.”

Eliza obeyed. Every time she said the elicit words, the quickening in her belly increased until her hips were moving in a circular motion on the desk. When she finished saying the words a third time, she waited breathlessly for what would come next.