Page 23 of Her Irresistible Husband

That she actually said this out loud—breathless and wondering rather than frightened—almost made him smile.

Almost.

"Are you scared?" he asked, studying the way her breathing had already changed.

She nodded so quickly in answer that he was finding it more difficult to keep his face expressionless.

"But it's not only that, is it?"

A blush stole over her cheeks as his gaze slowly traveled over her body.

"You're already wet, aren't you?"

"W-Wynd!"

He clucked his tongue. "When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Are we clear on this?"

She slowly nodded, a deep flush now staining her cheeks.

"Are you wet for me?"

Star looked at him in dismay, her lips parting as if she wanted to protest again. But when his expression remained unyielding, patient and implacable, she eventually choked out, "Y-Yes."

"And what do you think I should do about it?"

"Nothing!" The word burst out of her, desperate and breathless.

"Wrong answer."

She started pushing her chair back, the wheels scraping against the polished floor.

"Stop."

She froze mid-motion, her hands still gripping the armrests.

"I need you to be really close—" Wynd purred the words out in a dangerously silkened tone that had all the women in his past forgetting their own names. "—if I'm going to punish you properly."

"P-Punish?"

She croaked the word out, but her voice was tinged with both horror and helpless desire.

"Yes."

His confirmation had Star looking around as if everything was new to her. And indeed it was, since she now knew that this boardroom was about to turn into her torture chamber.

Perfect.

Anticipation was always worse than the actual punishment itself, and half the pleasure came from watching how she was now tormenting herself. Star was now squirming restlessly in her seat, hands tightly gripping the armrests as she pressed her thighs together in an obvious bid to relieve the aching need he could practically feel radiating from her.

"Turn your chair to face me, Ms. Moreno."

She swallowed hard, the sound audible in the quiet room. "W-Wynd—"

"Mr. Sullivan would be more appropriate," he corrected in that same dangerously silkened purr, "considering we're at your workplace."

The words had her biting down hard on her lower lip, and the sight of those perfect white teeth against soft pink flesh sent heat straight to his groin.

"Need I remind you again?" he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on her mouth. "If you keep doing that, you're tempting me to break my word."

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