Strictly Unprofessional

Close Quarters

The office was quiet the next morning.

Too quiet.

Olivia had barely stepped in when she felt it—that charged electricity in the air. Like the moment before a thunderstorm. The kind that raises the hair on the back of your neck and makes your pulse race for no good reason.

Except she knew the reason.

And he was currently leaning against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, tie loose, smile predatory.

“Morning,” Nathaniel said, like he hadn’t knelt in front of her yesterday and made her scream his name.

She looked him up and down, heart doing somersaults. “You’re early.”

He tilted his head. “So are you.”

“I have work.”

“So do I. But unlike you, I came here distracted.” He reached over, plucked the pen from her fingers, and leaned in. “I had a dream about you.”

She swallowed.

“And?”

His voice dropped. “You were bent over this desk.”

Her thighs clenched.

“Mr. Blackwell,” she warned.

He leaned even closer, mouth brushing her ear. “Miss Lane.”

She shivered.

---

The elevator incident. The office. The filthy things he said to her. It should’ve been enough. But Olivia’s body had betrayed her long ago. She wanted him. And even worse—she liked how it felt to be wanted back. Possessed. Claimed.

Still, she made herself focus. Reports. Spreadsheets. The new intern who spilled water on the copier and then cried when she tried to fix it.

At lunch, she found herself alone in the supply room, reaching for a toner cartridge when—

The door clicked shut.

She froze.

The overhead light flickered.

And then… the scent of him.

He stepped behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his chest. “Hey.”

“Nathaniel—”

“Shh.” His fingers brushed her hip. “No one knows we’re here.”

“This is so inappropriate.”

“So was the way you were moaning my name yesterday.”

She gasped when his hand slid up her skirt again.

“No panties today either,” he murmured. “You do know what that does to me, right?”

His fingers slid between her legs and she whimpered, half-heartedly pushing at his wrist.

“Nathaniel…”

“Say stop and I will,” he said, voice raw.

She didn’t.

So he didn’t.

---

He bent her slightly over the supply shelf, one hand tangled in her hair as the other teased and toyed with her soaked folds. His lips ghosted over her neck. She bit back a moan as two fingers slid inside her, slow and deep.

“I should be arrested,” he murmured.

She whimpered. “You’re a menace.”

“You’re tight.”

“Lock the door—”

“Too late.”

Her orgasm crashed through her fast and hard, the sound of her muffled cries lost somewhere between stacks of printer paper and shipping labels. He kissed her neck as she trembled in his arms.

“I want more,” he said.

“Later,” she whispered, breathless.

He kissed her behind the ear.

“You better keep that promise.”

---