Page 56 of Guarded King

Embarrassment and arousal war for dominance in my veins. Every one of my breaths rasps and my palms are damp where they press into the file I’m clutching to my chest. But my feet refuse to move. I couldn’t drag myself away, even if I wanted to. And I don’t. Some untamed part of me, one that hasn’t been let loose in far too long, wants to see what he looks like when his control is stripped from him. When he’s not my boss, not a billionaire CEO. When he’s just a man giving in to his need.

Roman’s eyes narrow, and based on the clench of his jaw and the flush that rises on his cheekbones, he’s close.

Still, neither of us looks away.

“Fuck, Chloe.” His voice is raw, his hips jolting forward as he climaxes. He throws his head back, the tendons in his neck straining, but a second later, he snaps it down so he can watch me in the mirror again, his eyes hungry and hooded.

My core clenches helplessly in response, my inner walls clutching at nothing. A whimper breaks free before I can stop it.

But as his movements slow to a stop, reality slams into me. I thought almost kissing him was bad. But this? Standing in his office, watching him come? It’s so much worse.

And while I watched him, he was watchingme. My name was on his lips.

Heat blasts my cheeks. This is so, so wrong, even if what Roman just did is undeniably one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

I spin and rush for the door. Halfway across the office, I’m stopped by the sound of his voice.

It’s still a little husky, but back in control. “Chloe.”

I grind to a halt and reluctantly turn, focusing on his mouth instead of meeting his eye. I expect it to be pressed into a thin line of anger, for him to finally lose his temper, to yell, to fire me.

But his jaw is relaxed, almost soft, if you can call anything about Roman soft. “Leave the file on my desk.”

I give a jerky nod, still not meeting his gaze. Then I speed walk to his desk, practically throw the file down on it, and make for the door.

After closing it behind me, I let myself sag against the wood for a second before I sprint to the elevator. The backs of my eyes sting the whole way down. I fight back the tears, determined not to let Phillip see how close I am to losing it.

On the drive home, and for the rest of the evening, what I witnessed plays on repeat in my head. And when I finally crawl into bed, I can’t help myself. I’m desperate to relieve the tension that’s been bottled up inside me for the last few hours.

Was he thinking about me as he touched himself? Was he imagining what might have happened in the elevator if the lights had stayed off? He said my name as he orgasmed, but was it only because I was standing there?

Closing my eyes, I slide my fingers between my slippery folds and find my already swollen and sensitive clit. I pull up an image of him with his shirt off, his arm flexing. Only this time, when I picture him looking down and catching me watching him, he doesn’t tell me to stay or go and he doesn’t just watch me back.In my fantasy, he calls me over in that low, dark voice of his. He tells me that, since I enjoy watching so much, I can have an up close and personal view.

And I walk over there without hesitation.

His smile is slow and sensuous, and when I reach him, he asks, “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” I breathe out.

With a growl, he fists his hand in my hair, the same way he did in the elevator, drawing me to him. “On your knees.”

I do as he says, my heart racing, my body on fire.

“Good girl.” His usually pale gray eyes are dark as he looks down on me. “You’re going to look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock.”

Belly tightening, back arching, I come.

When I sag back against the mattress, limbs still shaking from the intensity of my orgasm, reality comes crashing back down on me. I groan, throwing an arm over my eyes. How the hell am I going to face him tomorrow?

Rolling onto my side, I glance at the glowing numbers on my bedside clock before curling up into a ball.

Looks like I’ll have plenty of time to figure out exactly how to pretend nothing happened.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ROMAN

Istare down at the file on my desk. The one I’d forgotten I’d asked for.

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