Chapter three- The breaking point
1078 Words
I was completely exhausted from the fact that I had to pretend not to see him. That we didn't have a close contact that could mean something. I couldn't deny it anymore.
For the past week, that’s all I’ve done. Pretend I didn’t notice him. Pretend like I didn’t care. Pretend that the tension between us didn’t give any chemistry.
But pretending started feeling like a chore and I didn’t want that anymore.
And Nathan Blackstone was the reason I couldn’t keep up.
It was Friday—end of quarter review. Everyone was tense, the office charged with that anxious hum that comes when numbers and nerves collide.
Nathan had been colder than usual all morning. He was too busy with the accounts and settling in everything to even notice me. He didn’t look at me one bit.
And yet, it felt like he was referring to me anytime he spoke.
When he dismissed the room after two brutal hours, I thought I’d escaped — until his voice cut through the sound of chairs scraping.
“Miss Cole
please stay back.”
My heart raced almost immediately.
I waited back as everyone else made their way to the door, leaving just me and the boss.
A few seconds later, the conference room went so quiet. I could hear if a pin were to fall. It was just him.
And me.
He didn’t speak right away. Just stood by the table, staring at the reports like they’d personally offended him.
“Your presentation was good,” he said finally, voice flat.
“Thank you.”
“But you’re distracted.”
I looked up. “I’ve met your expectations every week, Mr. Blackstone.”
He scratched his jawline a bit. “But that's not what I meant.”
Something in the way he looked at me — sharp, searching — made my pulse trip. He wasn’t talking about work anymore, and we both knew it.
“I’m doing my job,” I said quietly.
“And yet,” he murmured, “so why do you keep looking at me like I offended you?”
“But did you?” I snapped back at him.
He suddenly moves closer to me— reducing the space between us but not enough to touch me.
“Talk to me, Jezebel, he said my name very lightly. I felt hot almost immediately. “Did I?”
The silence that followed felt really heavy.
He was too close. Too composed. I could see that he wanted me and was tired of pretending that he didn’t.
“We can't do this,” I said, with a shaky tone.
I was too scared but aware of what was to occur next.
“But you keep looking at me like that”. He said almost immediately.
“Like what?”
Like you want something from me. Something that gives you pleasure.
I searched for words but couldn't speak. Because he was right. I wanted pleasure from him and I couldn't help it.
He lifted my chin, aiming for my lip. I instantly felt a chill down my spine.
He held me like he owned me, like he desired me.
I immediately fell into his grip and gave in to the kiss. His lips are so soft and succulent. He kissed me with so much hunger, like he had been anticipating this moment.
He held me by my waist, pulling me closer to him— my chest pressed against his.
“Tell me you don't want it”. He whispered.
God, I wanted to.
But my voice betrayed me. “You won't.”
His lips were still pressed to mine. His hands romanticized my body, making me kiss him even harder.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I whispered into his ear.
Before I could say anything more, he lifted. I wrapped my legs around his waist to support his grip.
He made his way to the conference table. Placing me on it but still pinned on me.
I could no longer see the shield he wore during work hours, he was just a bare man.
His hands searched for my buttons and instantly stripped me of my silk shirt. He was on fire and was going to devour me almost instantly.
He kissed me down to my thighs and I couldn't hold in anymore, I wanted to have all of him.
I pulled him closer to me and suddenly he gave his first thrust.
I cried out. Then he went in again. I felt alive.
“Tell me to stop” “Tell me you don't want me,” he said to me while giving a series of strokes.
I was helpless, I hadn't felt this alive in a while. I cried out and that made him feel good.
When he finally pulled back. His breathing was unsteady. So was mine.
“This is a mistake,” he said, voice raw.
“I know.”
“Say you’ll walk away.”
“I can’t walk away from you Nathan.”
He shut his eyes for a long moment, as if fighting his inner demons. I was still in his grip. He finally opened them and looked at me again.
“Jezebel, you shouldn't be here.”
“But I work here”.
He raised his brows, as if he was marveled by my response. “You know that's not what I meant”.
“You drive me insane,” he said softly. “Do you know that?”
“Yes.”
And I smiled — small, sad, helpless.
Because it was already too late to deny it.
When I left his office that night, the city was already almost empty. All I could hear was raindrops and moving cars.
My skin was still sore from where he’d touched me, my lips tingled from his kiss.
I should’ve felt shame. Or guilt.
But all I felt was alive.
And that got me worried.
Later, lying in bed, I replayed it again and again. The way he caressed my skin. The way he stroked me. The way he kissed and whispered my name in my ears.
And I don't think I can see him the same way anymore.
The world saw Nathan Blackstone as untouchable.
But I’d touched him.
And I knew — no matter how I tried to convince myself— there was no turning back.
Because once a king falls, he doesn’t rise alone.
- Writer
