Page 10 of Wraith’s Betrayal

"You don't know what you're asking for."

"Don't I?" She pressed closer with her whole body, and I felt every soft curve against my harder planes. "I know exactly what I want. Question is how much longer you're going to pretend you don't want it too."

I released her wrist and stepped back, needing distance. "You should get ready for your interview."

Disappointment flashed across her face, but she nodded. "Right. The interview."

She disappeared into her room, and I escaped to mine, closing the door and leaning against it. My cock was so hard it hurt, and the image of her in my shirt, no panties, that perfect ass, was going to haunt me forever.

An hour later, she emerged dressed professionally—pencil skirt, blouse, heels that made her legs look incredible. "How do I look?"

Like every fantasy I'd ever had. "Professional."

"That bad?"

"No. You look..." Perfect. Devastating. Like I want to bend you over my couch and make you forget your own name. "You look great."

"Thanks." She grabbed her purse. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Everyone needs luck when their ex has sabotaged their entire career."

After she left, I tried to focus on work, but concentration was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her in my shirt. Felt her pressed against me. Heard her saying she dreamed about me.

Two hours later, she returned looking defeated.

"That bad?" I asked, looking up from my laptop.

"They'd already called my references in Denver." She slumped on the couch, kicking off her heels. "The interview was just a formality. They're not hiring someone who got fired for 'performance issues.'"

"That's not what happened though, is it?" I knew there was more to her leaving Denver than just losing a job.

"No." She rubbed her face, looking exhausted. "But the truth doesn't matter when someone with enough connections decides to rewrite it."

"Someone?" I kept my voice neutral, though suspicion was already building.

"My ex." The words came out bitter. "We were together for a year. When I finally tried to leave him, he made sure I'd regret it. Got me fired, blacklisted, made sure every reference would tell the same story about my 'performance issues.'"

"What's his name?" My jaw clenched.

"Derek Martell.” She said it like the name itself tasted bad. "Investment banker. Trust fund baby. The kind of guy who's never heard 'no' in his life."

"How long were you together?"

"A year. Worst year of my life, though I didn't realize it until the end. He's good at the slow burn. Little comments about my weight, my clothes, my friends. By the time I realized what was happening, I was isolated and convinced I was lucky he wanted me at all."

Rage built in my chest. "He told you that? That you were lucky?"

"Among other things. That no one else would want me. That I should be grateful for his attention." She laughed bitterly. "And I believed him. For months, I believed him."

I moved to sit beside her, no longer caring about maintaining distance. "He's full of shit."

"I know that now. But when someone tells you something enough times, especially someone who's supposed to love you..."

"Those curves drive me fucking insane," I said before I could stop myself. "Every morning I see you, I have to take a cold shower just to function. You're perfect. Every inch of you."

She turned to look at me, eyes wide. "Wraith..."