The Billionaire's Touch(7)

When her jaw snapped shut, he had to suppress a grin. He straightened and circled around behind her, choosing his words carefully. “You did well your first two years here. Maybe all you need is some discipline.”



He was thankful she couldn't see the expression that he knew crossed his face. There were so many ways he wanted to discipline her. He had to touch her. Before he could second guess himself, he ran his finger over the back of her neck, the heat from her skin blazing through him.

“Mr. Forster.”



He smirked when his name came out as a squeak. It was time to see just how obedient she was going to be.

“Mr. Forster...”



He cut her off. “Stand up.”



When she questioned him, he stepped in front of her, blood rushing straight to his cock. “Why? Because you need someone to keep you in line, to provide discipline. Don't you?” He gave her a second to think it over, letting his eyes show everything he wanted to do to her. “Now, stand up.”



She did, and he permitted himself the luxury of his gaze running over her, taking the time to appreciate the moment. He'd been waiting so long for this, he wanted to savor the first time she obeyed him, the first time he was able to look at her this closely and not have to hide what he was doing. “Very nice.” But it wasn't enough. He wanted to see more of her. “Take off your jacket.” When she started, he knew what she was thinking and amended his prior statement, letting his tone soften. “Just the jacket.”



As she did what he said, he stepped behind her once more, not wanting her to see the pure lust in his eyes, or the bulge in his pants. He clenched his hands, fighting the urge to demand more, to tell her to strip for him. He wanted to see what lay beneath those garments, the pale flesh that had haunted him for years. He took a breath, regaining control. “Hands on the desk.”



He watched her body tense and, for a terrible moment, he thought she would refuse, ending all of his plans. Then she did it, bending forward slightly so the fabric of her skirt molded to the curve of her ass. He hadn't intended to touch her, but he found he couldn't stop himself, he had to do it. If she rejected him, he'd never have the chance, and he had to know what it felt like to have his hands on her body, even through a layer of clothes. He gripped her waist, biting back the moan that wanted to come out. When she didn't protest, he leaned forward, letting her feel him against her so his intentions would be obvious. He wanted no misunderstandings between them. She didn't move, didn't ask him to stop. He ran his hands up her ribcage, barely daring to believe that she was letting him do this, and then he was holding her breasts and he thought he'd come right there in his pants. Only the realization that he needed to continue with her kept him sane.

“You need someone to take a firmer hand with you, Ms. Bell. Punish you when you're out of line. Make sure you're living up to your potential.”



When she shifted against him, he forced a laugh and took a step back. He didn't want to lose the contact with her body, but he really didn't want to walk around with damp underwear and pants for the rest of the day, and one more press of her ass against him and he wouldn't have an option. The groan of frustration she made was still almost too much, and his words came out a bit more harshly than he'd intended. “I think you need to learn the value of patience, Ms. Bell.”



Vance returned to his chair just like he'd done yesterday. Then, it had been as much to hide his erection and get Courtney out of his office as quickly as possible so he could dart into his bathroom to take care of his not-so-little problem. Today, it was because he just couldn't pace anymore. Nothing in his memory told him that he'd misread her. It hadn't been his imagination or wishful thinking. She'd wanted him.

Doubts and affirmations chased after each other throughout the rest of the day. Just when he thought he'd refocused and could finally get some work done, something would catch his eye and it would start all over again. It was three o'clock before he realized that he'd missed lunch, but he wasn't hungry. He forced himself to grab a handful of peanuts from a jar in his desk, but he barely tasted them. When five o'clock finally arrived, he bolted from his chair.


“See you tomorrow, Emma.” He ignored the open-mouthed stare his assistant shot his way as he hurried past her. In all the years they'd worked together, he'd never left before her and certainly never left on time. He had a brief moment to consider what she'd read into it before he decided that he didn't care. He had to see her.

Twenty minutes later, he was still sitting in front of her apartment building, arguing with himself. He knew which one was hers, could see the pale yellow curtains she'd hung. He desperately wanted to go up there, apologize for what he'd done and beg her to forgive him. Or maybe he wanted to go there to demand she keep the list of promises she so foolishly made. But he knew that neither option was the smart one. He should just leave and let nature take its course. Then the curtains twitched aside, and he caught a glimpse of her pale face and he knew he couldn't just leave. He still didn't know if he wanted her to forgive him or obey him, but he knew he had to find out.

Vance took a deep breath and climbed out of his car. When he buzzed at the door, she didn't respond but let him in. A faint hope bloomed in his chest. She hadn't told him to f*ck off, so there was still a chance to salvage whatever this could be. He paused at her door, far more nervous than he'd ever been before. Suddenly, he realized that he didn't know what to say.