Page 42 of The CEO

“Assuming again, I see, that my body would respond to your touch,” she says. “Is that what you want? To use me for your excitement then toss me aside like all of your other collateral damage?”

“If that’s what I wanted,” I say, my other hand reaching between us to unbutton her pants, “I would have already had you, wouldn’t I?” My hand slides past her waistband, my fingers pressing against her wet panties. Her eyes flutter, and her teeth bite down on her lower lip as I circle my thumb over her clit. “Now, let’s see if my assumption about your pussy being soaked by the thought of my tongue inside you is true.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you have me.” Her hands curl around the edge of my desk tighter, her knuckles white as she digs her nails into the hard wood.

“Let me? Oh, Eve,” I click my tongue, “what makes you think I’d need your permission?”

Her breathing grows rapid, her lips parting just enough that I hear a whisper of a moan when I push her panties to the side and make direct contact with her wet pussy.

“Answer me, Eve,” I demand just as I slide two thick fingers deep inside her.

“Ohhh,” she groans loudly, one hand shooting off the desk to grab a handful of my shirt.

Her walls tighten around my fingers. “Fuck, you’re a tight little thing, aren’t you? Greedy, too. You’re already quivering.” I slide my fingers out of her agonizingly slowly, circling her clit with both fingers before plunging them back in.

“Don’t stop,” she pants, her head falling forward as her eyes close.

“Look at me,” I bark, my fingers back around her throat while two curl inside her. When her heavy-lidded eyes meet mine, she’s barely hanging on, seconds away from coming on my fingers. “You’ve already crossed a line with me that you can’t uncross. There’s no going back from what you know about me, is there?”

“N-no,” she finally manages to choke out, her body starting to tremble.

“I am the devil, and if I were you, Eve Thorne, I would think long and hard before letting a man like me have control over you.”

Just as she’s about to come, I slow my movements, pulling my fingers from her entirely before releasing her body and stepping around my desk to take a seat. To keep myself from the overwhelming desire to lick every drop of her cum from my fingers, I clench my jaw so hard that my temples immediately throb.

“You seem to be suggesting conspiracy where tragedy exists. Although, I am curious how you managed to obtain the evidence you think you have,” I tell her.

She stays pressed against my desk for several seconds, staring forward, her hands still gripping the edge of my desk, her breath coming out shaky. My cock throbs, the scent of her on my fingers seriously fucking with my cognitive abilities. Finally, she releases her grip and buttons her pants before reaching down to grab her scarf from the floor, adjusting it around her neck before turning back to face me like I didn’t just have her at my absolute mercy with only two fingers.

“I have my sources.” She meets my gaze steadily, her cheeks flush with a pink glow that spreads down her neck. “Just as you have sources outside the realm of business.”

“What exactly are you hoping to achieve with this unscheduled visit, Eve? Accusations? Confirmation? Something else entirely?”

She’s playing a dangerous game, and she knows that. Which is why I can’t seem to figure out why she’s running straight toward the danger . . . unless she plans to join me.

She hesitates, the first crack in her confident demeanor. For a moment, I glimpse conflict beneath her composed exterior. But it feels like she’s not ready to acknowledge it.

“Understanding,” she finally says, her voice softer. “You showed me your greenhouse last night for some reason. You’ve revealed aspects of yourself to me that others never see. I want to know why.”

The question carries layers of reasons beyond the obvious. The complete answer would require explaining eight years, and before that, the reality of her parents’ deaths.

Truths I’m not yet prepared to reveal.

“Perhaps I recognize something in you worth cultivating,” I say instead, rising from my chair to approach her.

She doesn’t back away as I move closer. Her pulse accelerates, the gentle movement at the base of her throat growing rapid.

“And what, precisely, do you think you recognize in me, Mr. Knox?”

“Isolation. Loneliness. Curiosity about the bigger picture. The same qualities that draw you to write about the dead rather than the living.” I stop, just inside her personal space again. “The ability to see that there’s more to be gained in this life than just living by the rules.”

Her eyes widen slightly. I’ve touched on something fundamental that she hasn’t articulated even to herself: the real reason she remains in a job that limits her ambitions.

“That doesn’t explain these connections,” she says, gesturing back to the folder without breaking eye contact. “Or why you’d allow me to get this close to your operations.”

“Doesn’t it?” I move closer still, seeing if she’ll move away from me after testing her limits a moment ago. She remains steady. “What if I told you there are systems of justice operating outside those legal parameters you mentioned? An organization that addresses corruption the courts can’t touch, and predators law enforcement can’t stop?”

“The Shadows?”

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