Page 5 of Forbidden Daddy
I hesitated, my hands gripping the leather arms of the chair. Everything about this felt like stepping off a cliff.
"Do as you’re told, Ms. James."
The command sent a shiver down my spine that I couldn’t suppress. Slowly, I turned in the chair to face him. He was closer than I’d expected—close enough that I could see the faint scar beneath his lower lip, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne mixing with something darker. Something purelyhim.
Roman leaned in, and my breath caught in my throat. His fingers slid through my hair with deliberate slowness, gentle but possessive, tilting my head back until I had no choice but to meet his eyes. His touch sent electric shocks straight down my spine.
His breath ghosted across my ear, warm and devastating.
Then he spoke, his voice low and lethal, each word a whisper that turned my blood to fire.
"I want you to take me home tonight."
My own words. My wine-fueled confession. The text I thought I was sending to Jeremy.
Oh God. Oh no.
"I want you to strip me out of this dress," he continued, his voice like velvet over steel. "I want you to push me against yourkitchen counter and show me exactly why they call you the sex machine."
Heat flooded my cheeks, my chest, every inch of my skin. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn't think. Could only sit there frozen while my boss recited my sexual fantasies back to me in that sinful voice that made my knees weak.
But Roman wasn’t done. Not even close.
"I want your hands on me. Your mouth on me." His thumb traced along my jawline as he spoke, and I bit back a whimper. "I want you to make me beg for it, then give me everything I can’t ask for when I’m sober."
"Stop," I whispered, but the word came out breathless and needy instead of firm.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, studying my face as if he were reading a fascinating book. "Should I stop, Ms. James? You seemed quite... thorough in your message."
I wanted to disappear. I wanted the expensive carpet to open up and swallow me whole. But more than that—God help me—I wanted him to keep going. Wanted to hear him say the rest of it in that dark, commanding voice that made my body forget every rational thought.
"There’s more," he murmured, reading the conflict in my eyes with unsettling accuracy. "Would you like me to continue?"
"I..." My voice failed me completely.
Roman’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but was infinitely more dangerous. "You described in great detail what you wanted me to do with my mouth. My hands." His gaze dropped to my lips. "My tongue."
"Jesus," I breathed, my hands trembling in my lap.
"You also mentioned wanting to feel me for days afterward," he continued conversationally, as if we were discussing quarterly projections instead of my most private fantasies. "Something about being so thoroughly fucked that you’d think of me every time you sat down."
A sound escaped my throat—half whimper, half moan. Roman’s eyes flashed with something predatory and satisfied.
"And then there was the part about handcuffs," he added, his voice dropping even lower. "About wanting to be tied up and completely at my mercy while I?—"
"Please don’t," I managed, though whether I was begging him to stop or continue, I honestly couldn’t say.
"Please don’t what?" His thumb swept across my lower lip, and I nearly lost it completely. "Please don’t remind you how you begged me to fuck you senseless? How you said you wanted to scream my name until your voice gave out?"
My composure cracked. "Roman—Mr. Creed—I didn’t mean?—"
"Didn’t mean what?" His fingers tightened in my hair, just enough pressure to make my pulse race. "Didn’t mean to send it? Or didn’t mean what you wrote?"
I stared up at him, trapped by his gaze, by his proximity, by the way he commanded every inch of space around him. My rational mind screamed at me to apologize, to explain, to salvage whatever was left of my professional dignity.
But the way he was looking at me—like I was something he wanted to devour —made coherent thought impossible.
"I didn’t mean to send it to you," I whispered.
