Allure of Temptation

7: Wet From Hearing His Voice

AUDREY

The annual reports for Milburn Empire were laid out in front of me like a punishment. I was supposed to be editing the executive summary and looking for discrepancies. Instead, I was staring at a coffee ring on page twelve and thinking about the way the wind had felt on that rooftop forty-eight hours ago.

Specifically, I was thinking about the way Matteo’s hand had felt when it slid between my thighs.

I stared at the page until the words blurred, then blinked hard and forced my eyes to focus again. My pen hovered over the margin, yet I underlined nothing.

The air in my office felt too thin. I reached up, undoing the top button of my silk blouse, trying to shake the memory of the sensation of his breath against my p***y. It was ridiculous. I was Audrey Combs. I shouldn’t be distracted by a younger man with a dangerous smile.

Specifically, someone who was my friend's son.

I forced my eyes down to the paper again, dragged my attention to the table of figures, and tried to act like my body wasn’t reacting to a memory like it was a touch.

Just as I flipped a page, my phone buzzed.

I froze.

The buzzing stopped. Then started again.

My gaze slid to the screen before I could stop it.

It was an unsaved number.

My heart pounded as I let it ring twice before answering. I knew who it was. I could tell who it was and yet, I answered.

“Audrey Combs,” I said professionally, despite my nerves.

A pause. Then, low and amused, “There you are.”

My spine stiffened. “Matteo,” I greeted, trying to minimize his effect.

“Hi, Audrey.”

“You shouldn’t be calling me, Matteo,” I said, closing my eyes.

He chuckled. "And yet, you answered.”

I opened my eyes, staring at the report. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means you’ve been thinking about me.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “No.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. His silence felt like a smirk.

I swallowed. “Why are you calling?”

“Because I want to hear your voice.”

I let out a sharp breath. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

“Matteo.”

“Audrey.” The way he said my name made my thighs press together.

I shifted in my chair, furious at my body’s betrayal. What the hell was wrong with me? What was this visceral reaction to him? Why can't I control my body when it comes to him?

“This is a mistake,” I said, my voice trembling.

Matteo went quiet.

Then, softer, “You didn’t look like you thought it was a mistake on that rooftop. Your moans definitely didn't sound like it.”

My stomach dropped, and heat rose in my face.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Matteo’s voice vibrated through the phone.

“Doing what, Matteo?” I gripped my phone tighter.

“Reliving it,” he smirked, the confidence of a man who knew his capabilities. “You’ve probably got a pile of documents in front of you, but you haven’t read a single line in twenty minutes. You’re thinking about that night. You're thinking about my tongue in your pussy.”

Heat flushed up my neck. “I’m working, Matteo. Some of us have responsibilities.”

“Liar,” he whispered. “Your breathing just changed. It got shallow. Are you shaking, Audrey?”

“Stop this,” I commanded weakly, guilt overriding my usual confidence. He was my friend’s son and a decade younger. “Stop calling me. This… was a mistake.”

“A mistake?” He gave a soft, humourless chuckle. “A typo is a mistake. What happened on that roof was inevitable.”

“You don’t know anything about my life.”

“I know you want me. I also know that you're a liar,” he said, his voice intimate. “Admit it. You’ve been thinking about my hands since you woke up. I bet you’re wet just hearing me say it.”

My stomach clenched. I forced a humorless laugh. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said calmly. “Are you alone?”

“No.” I swallowed.

“Liar.”

My breath hitched. “Excuse me?”

He sounded amused. “You always say yes too quickly.”

My cheeks burned. “Matteo, I am not doing this.”

“You are,” he stated simply. “You’re doing it right now.”

I stared at the papers, fidgeting with the corner. “What do you want?” I asked.

There was a pause long enough that I thought he might not answer.

Then he said, in a voice so low it made my skin prickle, “I want to know if you’re thinking about me.”

I clenched my jaw as I answered, “I’m not.”

He chuckled lowly. “Liar.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You’re lying,” he said, like it was a fact. “And you know it.”

My mouth went dry, and I shifted restlessly.

“You don’t get to—” I started.

“You’re wet,” he said.

My whole body froze. “What did you just say?”

Matteo didn’t sound shocked. He sounded certain.

“I said you’re wet,” he repeated. “From hearing my voice.”

My throat tightened as the denial stuck. My body betrayed me again. Heat pulsed low in my belly, my thighs pressed together, and my breathing quickened.

He knew.

“Matteo, enough,” I gasped, the words catching in my throat. My skin felt electric, every nerve ending firing at once. The office was quiet, the hum of the air conditioning system the only sound, yet it felt as if he were standing right behind me.

“Is the door locked, Audrey?” he asked.

“No, I—”

“That’s fine. No one will enter the boss’s office without knocking,” he interrupted. “Right now, I want you to slide your hand down. Just feel the silk of your skirt. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you aren’t aching for me to be there.”

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, even as my fingers betrayed me, fluttering toward the hem of my skirt. The guilt was there, a dull ache in the back of my mind, reminding me of the insanity of engaging with him. But the heat was louder.

“Do it,” he pressed. “Touch yourself for me. Think about my mouth around your boobs while you do it.”

My fingers pressed lightly, barely there, through the fabric of my underwear.

Heat flared, and my breath stuttered.

Matteo’s voice was quiet. “Are you doing it?”

I didn’t answer.

“Audrey.”

“Yes,” I whispered, shame burning hot in my chest.

“Good girl.”

My eyes fluttered shut. My hand moved, sliding over the smooth fabric, finding the heat between my thighs. A soft moan escaped me before I could bite it back.

“There she is,” Matteo murmured, his voice like a soft caress. “Slowly, Audrey. Don’t rush. I want to hear everything.”

I was lost in it—the friction, the sound of his breathing, the illicit thrill of having an orgasm in my office. I had just started to find a rhythm, my head back against the leather, the world outside the windows blurring.

A sharp knock, like a gunshot, jolted me. “Mrs. Combs? I have the signatures from the legal department.”

My hand snapped away as I bolted upright, my heart pounding.

“Audrey?” Matteo’s voice echoed from the phone. Shaking, I fumbled twice before ending the call.

“One moment, Sarah!” I called out, my voice strained and high-pitched. Frantically smoothing my skirt and tucking my hair, I took a ragged breath. The annual report lay there, the coffee ring still visible. Everything was the same, yet the air felt charged.

“Come in,” I managed, clearing my throat.

The door opened, and Sarah walked in, clutching a blue folder. She was twenty-four, bright-eyed, and blissfully unaware that her boss had been seconds away from an orgasm on the desk.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, sliding the folder onto the desk. “Mr. Grayson sent these back.” She noted my appearance, and her brows furrowed. “Are you okay? You look a little... flushed. Is the air conditioning acting up again?”

“Just a bit of a headache,” I lied, forcing a tight, professional smile. “I’ll have these reviewed in ten minutes. Thanks, Sarah.”

“Of course.” She lingered for a second, her eyes scanning my desk, then nodded and left, closing the door softly behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I looked at my phone. It sat there, a sleek piece of glass and metal that felt like a live grenade. I looked at the reports, then at the door, then at my own trembling hands.

This wasn’t a game. This was the son of my friend. I was dancing on the edge of a volcano, marveling at the glow as my body melted.

“Never again,” I whispered to the empty room.

I picked up the phone. I didn’t hesitate. I opened the call log, selected the number, and hit Block.

I set the phone face down. My heart was still racing, the memory of his voice still echoing in my ears. I pulled the legal folder toward me, picked up my pen, and forced my eyes to focus on the text.

I would never entertain Matteo again.

I just had to ignore the fact that my hand was still shaking as I signed my name.