Page 13 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

She pauses, her lips parting as if to protest or question, but then she complies with a nod that's almost imperceptible. The click of the lock as she twists it shut seems to echo in the sudden stillness between us.

I push back from my desk, the leather chair protesting beneath me. I'm on my feet before I realize what I'm doing, propelled by a restlessness I can't name. When she turns back around from the door, I'm already there—closer than I should be.

"Liam—" she starts, but her words hang incomplete as she looks up at me, startled. Her reaction is a physical thing, a swift intake of breath I can almost feel against my skin.

"Shiloh," I say, and there's an edge to my voice I don't recognize. "No more questions." My gaze locks with hers, willing her to understand without further words—the gravity of thesituation, the need for efficiency, the unspoken tension that we're both pretending doesn't exist.

"Right." Her voice trembles slightly, and I can see the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. It's distracting, unsettling.

She's too close, and yet not nearly close enough.

Shiloh's eyes, wide with a hint of something like fear—or is it anticipation?—hold mine. She's not backing down, not breaking away from the intensity that binds us in this moment.

I know I shouldn't be doing this. As her boss, there are lines I swore never to cross. But as she stands before me, every professional boundary blurs into irrelevance.

The darkest fantasies flash through my mind, each one more forbidden than the last. I imagine tipping her chin up, yanking her over my knee, and spanking her for every interruption, every lingering question that has ever tested my control.

I wonder if she’s wet.

I wonder what kinds of sounds she’d make if I played with her pussy while I spanked her.

Fuck, I’m a sick bastard.

My hand reaches out, fingers closing around her arm with a firmness that borders on possessive. It's an act fueled by raw desire, a physical assertion of the power I hold—a power I desperately want to wield and abandon at the same time. She gasps, her eyes darting to where I’m touching her.

"Liam?" There's a tremor in her voice now, a vulnerability that does dangerous things to my self-control. I wonder if that’s how she would sound begging for my cock—if that’s how it would sound when she came.

No, stop.

Don’t think about that.

"Shiloh," I growl, my voice laced with an edge that's as much a warning to myself as it is to her. "You need to understand—I don't have time for your questions."

She’s turned on. The flush on her face is undeniable. And God help me, that realization only fuels the fire raging within me. It's like I'm caught in a trance, every logical thought drowned out by the primal urge to claim her, to make her mine in the most carnal way possible.

"Are you going to punish me?" Shiloh's words slice through the haze of my desire. She bites her lip, a seemingly innocent action that hits me like a freight train.

My body reacts instantly, an undeniable jolt of arousal coursing through me. It's a visceral reaction, one that I can't control or ignore. The image of bending her over the desk, the sound of her whimpers, the feel of her skin under my hand—the vision floods my mind in vivid detail, and I want her.

I want to fuck her right here, against the cold surface of my office desk, where anyone could walk in and see what we were doing.

"Stop," I command myself more than her, the word barely a growl as I realize I'm getting hard. It's the wake-up call I need, the line drawn in the sand.

This is forbidden territory, and I’m teetering on the edge of disaster.

With clenched fists, I force myself to retreat and round the desk, putting a physical barrier between us. My breaths come out in controlled bursts as I fight to regain my composure—fight to be the man I have to be, not the man I want to be with her.

"Get out," I say firmly, my voice low and rough with the effort of restraint. I can’t let this happen. I can't let her see how much I want her, how close I am to breaking every rule I've set for myself.

"Out, Shiloh. Now."

I don't look at her. I can’t. If I do, I might lose the last shred of self-control I have left.

Shiloh straightens, her movements deliberate as she smooths out her skirt. She's composed on the surface, but I see the signs. Her pupils are dilated, her cheeks bear the rosy tint of arousal, and even from this distance, I can tell her nipples have tightened against the fabric of her shirt. It’s clear she’s affected, yet she doesn’t meet my eyes.

She knows.

Shit, she knows what we almost did… and she wanted it.

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