I could feel his breath fanned on my earlobe.
I swallowed my spit.
“You’re really making this hard for me,” he growled softly.
I froze, pulse hammering against my throat.
“What… what do you mean?” My voice was barely a whisper.
Was he going to bend me over, tie my hands with his tie and spank me so hard…then he’ll tell me don’t c*m until I let you:
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell that infuriatingly expensive cologne of his sharp, clean, masculine.
“You think you can walk in here, all fire and claws, unbutton your shirt, then smile at me like that…”
His thumb brushed against my wrist before he let go. “…and I’m supposed to stay professional?”
My throat went dry.
Not with lack of words but dry with thirst.
“Mr. Voss—”
“Caden,” he said, voice firm. “If you’re going
