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189
Derek swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a throat that felt like it was lined with sandpaper. He knew exactly what this was. He wasn’t blind or naive—but that didn’t make him immune. Not to her. Never to her. He was being systematically seduced in his own office, and he was powerless to call a retreat. He was completely obsessed with her. Olivia had him wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

“Could be both,” he managed, though the words came out rougher than he intended, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to surrender, like a man who was starving and had just been offered a feast.

Olivia hummed softly, as though considering that, the vibration of the sound ghosting over his skin, “Perhaps I could help with that.”

She didn't wait for a yes. Her hands slid upward with practiced, agonizing slowness to his tie. She unknotted the silk with deft fingers, her knuckles brushing the hollow of his throat. With a slow, practiced ease, she loosened it completely, drawing it free from around his neck. The fabric slipped from her grasp and she let it slither to the floor like a discarded shadow, forgotten.

Her hands didn’t stop there.

They drifted over his chest, and her palms flattened against the crisp cotton of his shirt, smoothing over the fabric, then dragging slowly up and down his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart beneath her touch. She leaned in until her lips were inches from his, her eyes locked on his dark, blown-out pupils.

“There,” she whispered, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “Isn't that much better?”

“What are you doing?” Derek’s voice was a low rumble, strained and rough. He made no move to displace her hands from his shoulders, looking like a man physically incapable of retreat, pinned by her touch and the suffocating scent of her.

“I told you,” Olivia murmured, her voice low and seductive, eyes dark with a challenge. “I brought you lunch. Think of it as a peace offering. I don't want to fight you, Derek. I remember how terrible I felt the last time we did, and I have no plans of repeating history.”

The honesty in her voice finally broke his restraint. Derek’s arm shot out, snaking around her waist with possessive urgency. Olivia let out a sharp, tiny gasp as he hauled her against him, the friction of her silk gown against his shirt sending a jolt through both of them.

“I don't want to fight either, Liv,” he rasped. His gaze dropped to her mouth—the only thing he could think about—before snapping back to her eyes. “Is it really so bad? That I want us to live together… share a life? That I want to wake up to this every day?”

“I never said it was bad, Derek. You know what I said,” she replied softly. She made a half-hearted attempt to shift out of his grasp, but he only tightened his hold, his fingers digging into the knit of her dress. “And we’re getting carried away. I didn’t come here to have the same conversation we had yesterday.”

“Then why are you here?” A slow, dangerous grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you. I brought lunch. Which is currently getting cold while you’re busy interrogating me.”

Derek still didn't release her. Instead, he leaned down, burying his face in her hair and then the curve of her neck. He inhaled sharply, as if memorizing the scent of her skin, before trailing a line of stinging, hot kisses up toward her ear. “Liar,” he whispered against her skin, punctuating the word by catching her earlobe between his teeth in a sharp, playful nip.

Olivia’s head fell back, a low moan escaping her throat followed by a breathless chuckle. “Why would you call me that?”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with a desire so potent it was almost tangible. He pressed closer, making sure she felt the rigid evidence of his arousal against her stomach. “No one brings just lunch wearing a dress like that, Liv. You had ulterior motives from the second you zipped that thing up… not that I’m complaining. I like being seduced by you.” His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “You should do it more often.”

Olivia felt the heat rising in her cheeks, but she was enjoying herself so much now and she wasn’t ready to end the game. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased, her eyes dancing. “I brought a bag of food, and I see nothing else on the table.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, a low, territorial growl vibrating in his chest. “Hmmmm. Then I suppose we should rectify that, shouldn’t we?”

Before she could blink, he gripped her waist, and with an effortless show of strength, he hoisted her up, sitting her firmly on the edge of his massive mahogany desk. He stepped between her legs immediately, his hands slamming down on the wood on either side of her hips, caging her in.

“There,” he said, his face inches from hers. “Now you’re on the table, too. We should probably decide which one I want first.”

Olivia laughed, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy, Mr. Boss Man? Sometimes I forget you actually have a foundation to run, Mr president.”

“I can spare some time for you, baby, and I don’t want to be Mr. Boss Man around you,” Derek replied, his voice thick. “I don’t even think I can.” He used one hand to sweep a stack of blueprints and a gold pen set to the side, clearing a wider path for her on the leather-inlaid surface. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Liv, you have me wrapped around your little finger.”

A triumphant smile bloomed on her face as she reached for the first button of his shirt. “I do?” She noticed his eyes flick briefly toward the heavy oak door, a flash of professional instinct crossing his face. She leaned in, her lips ghosting over his jaw. “Don’t worry. I locked it the second I walked in.”

Derek’s grin was wicked, looking thoroughly impressed. “So naughty,” he drawled, the sound vibrating through her. “I think I’ll have you first... then we can worry about the food.”

Then without breaking eye contact, he sank into his chair directly in front of her, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk until there wasn't a single inch of air left between them.