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“I don’t know if your mother taught you this, Ethan, but when you’re having a conversation, you look the person you’re talking to in the eyes,” I spit, my voice edged with restrained anger. “If you can’t do that, don’t force people to sit there and listen to your bullshit.”
I lift my chin and hold his gaze.
And now he’s looking at me.
I’m sure he didn’t expect this reaction, yet his face reveals nothing—no emotion, no flicker of feeling. He’s trained for billion-dollar negotiations; this conversation with me is just another game.
“And who I fuck is nobody’s business, not even the CEO’s,” I continue, steady and resolute.
This time, a smirk forms on his lips, his eyes catching a spark of amusement that only fuels my irritation.
God, this man drives me insane. Why does he have to be this ridiculously handsome?
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, advancing toward me with slow, measured steps, every movement controlled, predatory, as if he already knows exactly how this will end.
I instinctively step back, but I barely get one step before my ass hits the table behind me, right by the chair he occupied during the meeting, cutting off any chance of retreat.
“I thought you wanted someone to marry, not to fuck, Thalia?” he adds, his tone laced with irony as he closes the distance completely.
He’s right in front of me now, one hand reaching out to push me back against the table, and with nowhere left to go, I press myself against the edge.
“Do you think John Suarez can give you that?” he continues, and this time he actually laughs, the sound low and piercing.
He laughs.
The audacity of it makes something fierce and burning twist inside me.
“Why not, Ethan?” I shoot back, venom coating my words even as a shiver betrays me, running through my body in a way I can’t control.
If he notices how affected I am, he won’t stop, he’ll pull harder.
“You labeled me a player, but you see him as a good, clean man, Thalia?” he asks, his hands sliding to my thighs, parting them with ease before stepping between them, the sudden closeness squeezing my chest and stealing the air from my lungs.
“I didn’t label you, Ethan,” I reply, forcing myself to hold his gaze despite the way my pulse spikes uncontrollably. “Your actions and reputation define you.”
I’m barely breathing now, painfully aware of the heat radiating from his body, of the tension pulling tight between us, of how familiar this feels, how dangerously familiar.
His presence does the same thing to me as always, the same thing I hoped to feel with John and never once did, and the realization hits harder than I want to admit.
I’m going to lose my mind over this.
A dark chuckle leaves him as he leans in, his mouth brushing my ear, his breath warm on my skin.
“There are two problems with your statement, kitten,” he murmurs before biting gently at my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “One: as I said before, I’ve already fucked you three times, so the one-night-stand reputation is gone.”
Slowly, intentionally, one of his hands slides between my legs, slipping under my dress until his palm presses firmly against my clit over my panties, and the sudden contact pulls a gasp from my lips.
My hand moves on instinct, grabbing his wrist, but I don’t push him away, I don’t move at all, caught somewhere between resistance and the need already building inside me.
“Two,” he continues, his lips grazing my skin, his voice low and commanding, “You’re soaking wet for this bad man, not the good marriage material who just walked out.”
Before I can react, his other hand comes up to cup my chin, forcing my face upward until my eyes lock onto his.
“Now tell me,” he adds, his gaze dark and unwavering, “do you want to do it here, where anyone walking past could see us, or in my office?”
“What are you talking about?” I murmur, even as my body betrays me, responding to him in ways I can’t deny.
“Clearly, you want this,” he replies, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he presses his cock against my leg, making sure I feel exactly how hard he is. “And it’s as obvious that I do too.”
