Chapter 57

[ 954 words ]

Julian’s POV

“Julian,” she gasped against my mouth, her breath hitching, “you’re… you’re out of your mind p>

“I haven’t been in my right mind since the day I met you,” I muttered, my hands sliding down her blazer to the curve of her hips.

I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her the short distance to my desk. I swept a stack of multi-million-dollar contracts onto the floor with a single motion, clearing a space for her. I sat her down on the edge, my body hovering between her thighs, pressing her back against the cool surface of the wood.

The friction of my slacks against her suit was electric. Every time I moved, I felt the heat of her through the layers of our clothes. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her, jasmine, and expensive skin cream.

“You’re supposed to be my sister’s husband,” she whispered, even as her teeth grazed the lobe of my ear.

“I’m a man who knows what belongs to him,” I countered, my hands finding the hem of her blazer and pushing it aside. I didn’t go for her buttons. I didn’t try to strip her. There was something more intense about the barrier of the clothes—the way we had to fight through the silk and wool to feel the pressure of each other.

I began to move against her, slowly grinding until her head fell back, her throat bared to me like an offering. A low, guttural moan escaped her, and the sound shattered the last of my restraint.

“Say it,” I commanded, my voice strained, my hips driving into her with agonizing pressure. “Tell me you don’t want this p>

“I hate you,” she breathed, her eyes lidded and dark with a lust so thick it was tangible. She gripped my shoulders, her nails digging through my shirt. “I hate how you think you can control everything p>

“Then stop me,” I challenged, my hands sliding underneath her thighs to pull her closer, centering her against the hard, aching length of my cock.

The dry humping was maddening. Every movement was a promise of what lay beneath, a tease of the skin-on-skin contact that would eventually burn us both to the ground. She tilted her pelvis into me, seeking the same sensation, her breath coming in short, jagged bursts.

I watched her, watched the way the CEO mask crumbled, replaced by the raw, unbridled passion of a woman who’s used to life as a CEO. This was the ’variable.’ This was the thing that no encryption could hide.

I pressed my forehead against hers, my breathing as ragged as hers. We were two predators locked in a stalemate, vibrating with a need that was bordering on dangerous. I could feel the heartbeat in her neck, a wild thrum that matched the pounding in my own ears.

“You’re a disaster, Katia,” I whispered, my voice thick with a dark humor that felt like a confession. “You’re going to destroy my company, my reputation, and my peace of mind p>

“Good,” she rasped, her hands sliding down to my chest, pushing against me just enough to create an inch of space. Her eyes were sharp again, the ice returning to the edges of her pupils even as her lips remained swollen from my kisses. “Because you’ve already destroyed mine p>

She slid off the desk, her movements shaky, but her expression composed. She smoothed her blazer, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted her hair.

I stayed where I was, my hands braced on the edge of the desk, my body still screaming for the release I hadn’t given it. I watched her walk toward the door, her stride returning to that confident, lethal click.

“The implementation plan is on the floor, Julian,” she said, nodding toward the papers I’d swept aside. “Read it. If you have any actual technical questions, have your secretary call mine p>

She reached for the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. She didn’t look back.

“And Julian? If you ever trap my team like that again, I’ll pull the IG licenses before you can say ’breach of contract.’ I don’t care how much money you have. I don’t negotiate with terrorists p>

The door clicked open, and she was gone.

I stood in the silence of my office, the scent of her still hanging in the air like a taunt. I looked down at the floor, at the scattered contracts worth billions. I didn’t care about the money. I didn’t care about the board.

I touched my lips, still feeling the ghost of her kiss. I am Julian Windsor. I was the hunter. But as I listened to the fading sound of her heels in the hallway, I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn’t the one in control of the chase.

I sat back in my chair, a dark, jagged laugh escaping my throat.

“Game on, Katia,” I whispered to the empty room. “Let’s see who burns first.” I will fuck her one day, not the dry humping we had today.

The scent of Katia was still clinging to the fibers of my shirt, a haunting mixture of jasmine and defiance that made the air in my car feel too small. My skin was still humming from the sensation of her body against mine on that desk. I had intended to go straight to the West Wing, lock the door, and bury myself in the telemetry data of a ghost, but the moment I stepped through the front doors of the estate, the atmosphere shifted.

I smelled the heavy, floral perfume of my mother-in-law before I saw her.

Fuck!

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