Page 108 of Filthy Promises

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ROWAN

We’ve fallen into a pattern.

A dangerous, addictive, catastrophically beautiful pattern.

I tell myself every morning that it needs to stop. I can’t keep doing this. This way lies heartbreak and misery—and, yes, more orgasms than my body can handle—but it’s mostly bad stuff otherwise!

Then night falls. And all my resolve crumbles.

“Focus, Rowan,” Vince’s voice cuts through my thoughts as I sit across from his desk, supposedly taking notes on the firm’s upcoming Hong Kong merger.

“This is me, focusing.”

“Is it? You seem distracted.”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“Are you?” He stands, circling his desk and coming to stand in front of me. “Because you’ve been staring at my mouth for the past five minutes.”

My breath catches. “We’re at work, Vince.”

“I’m aware.” His eyes go molten. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Vince, someone could walk in?—”

“The door is locked. And no one would dare.” He leans closer, mouth inches away from mine. “Were you thinking about the same thing as me? Because I was thinking about last night, when I bent you over the kitchen counter and fucked you so hard you couldn’t speak.”

Just his words send heat flooding between my legs. “I…”

“Or maybe not. I thought perhaps you were still reminiscing about when I pushed you to your knees and came in your mouth.”

“It… That…”

He taps a finger against my lips like a metronome. “Was it the car ride that’s got you so out of sorts? Honestly, two little fingers shouldn’t be enough to throw such a gear in the works.”

“Y… You…”

His grin is wicked, vicious, un-fucking-deniable. “Ah, I know what it is. It’s that you wantmore.”

The grin disappears. He’s violently present all of the sudden. Every single scrap of his attention is focused on me and me alone. On ripping the answers he wants out of my throat.

“Say it, Rowan. Say you want more.”

I swallow. I never really had a chance here, did I?

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want more.”

His smile is victorious as he reaches for the hem of my skirt. “Stand up.”

I obey without hesitation. We both know I’m powerless to refuse him anything at this point.

“Turn around,” he commands. “Hands on the desk.”

I feel him lift my skirt, his fingers sliding beneath the waistband of my panties to tug them down. They catch around my ankles, trapping me.

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