40 WAYS TO SIN

WHY CHOOSE 3🔥🌶️

~~Tasha~~

Alexander looked different tonight, darker somehow, without the usual cool detachment he wore whenever he looked at me across his office desk.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was past midnight, and considering how exhausted he'd looked earlier, I'd expected him to be fast asleep by now.

Alexander exhaled and slipped his phone into his pocket before answering.

“I should be asking you that question, Covey.”

Covey was my surname, and for some reason I had no idea of, he liked calling me that sometimes. It always sounded different coming from him, especially when he said it in that low, unhurried voice of his.

“Well, I came downstairs to get some water,” I explained, lifting the glass to prove my innocence. “I didn't know you were still awake.”

“Is that so?”

I nodded, suddenly becoming very aware of the shirt hanging loosely over my thighs.

His shirt, to be precise.

Alexander pushed away from the wall and straightened, his gaze never leaving mine as he took a step toward me.

The way he kept his gaze on me made my fingers tighten around the glass.

“What?” I asked when he continued staring without saying anything.

His eyes dropped to the shirt, lingering on the hem before slowly moving back to my face.

“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?” His voice was husky.

My lips parted, but the words I'd been about to say seemed to disappear somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

He took another step, closing the distance between us, and I caught the familiar scent of his cologne beneath the lingering smell of coffee in the kitchen. It was such an ordinary combination, one I'd smelled countless times in his office, yet tonight it seemed impossible to ignore.

“You aren't supposed to come down here looking like this, Covey” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Walking around my house in my shirt, showing off those beautiful legs with your ass barely covered, and standing right in front of me.”

Oh, God.

Heat crept up my neck, and I lowered my eyes to the glass before he could see just how much his words had affected me.

“I didn't mean to,” I mumbled, although I wasn't entirely sure what I was apologizing for. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Anyway.” I set the glass on the counter, suddenly feeling like I needed something to do with my hands. “I'll leave you to whatever you were doing. Goodnight, Sir.”

I turned toward the doorway, intending to retreat to my room before I embarrassed myself any further, but a small, shameful part of me hoped he'd stop me.

I'd barely taken a step when his hand closed gently around my wrist.

For one ridiculous second, I wanted to smile.

“I like it when you call me sir, Tasha.”

I turned back, and the first thing I noticed was that he wasn't looking at my eyes anymore. His gaze had dropped to my lips, and the way he studied them left me wondering whether I was imagining things or whether Alexander Hayes actually wanted to kiss me.

Before I could ask what he meant, his hands settled on my waist, and he lifted me as though I weighed nothing, placing me on the smooth marble counter.

A startled gasp escaped me when the cold surface touched the backs of my thighs, and I instinctively caught his shoulders to steady myself. The movement pushed my shirt higher, exposing my thighs even more to his eyes. And my ass was in direct contact with the cold surface of the counter.

“What...” My voice came out soft and I swallowed before trying again. “What are you doing?”

Alexander looked at me for a moment, his expression stripped of the usual restraint that made him so difficult to read at work.

The exhaustion had gone, replaced by something he had apparently been trying too hard to ignore until now.

“You walked in here by yourself,” he murmured, resting his hands on the counter on either side of my hips. “And now I can't seem to get my eyes off you.”

I struggled to find something clever to say, anything that might keep me from looking like a woman who'd been waiting years to hear them, even though I truly had.

But how was I supposed to act normal when the man I'd spent months trying not to fall harder for was looking at me as though he'd finally run out of reasons to pretend I meant nothing to him?

“Who knew you were hiding such a sexy body beneath those stiff professional clothes?” he asked, a faint trace of disbelief slipping into his voice.

“Sir...” I said, gripping the fabric of his shirt when he moved closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him through the thin material between us.

I'd imagined moments like this more times than I cared to admit, usually when I was alone and had no chance of making a complete fool of myself, but the reality was far more unsettling than any fantasy because I could see the uncertainty beneath his desire, too.

He wasn't looking at me like my boss anymore, and I had no idea what that meant for either of us when morning came.

His gaze dropped briefly to my hands, which were still gripping his shirt, before he slowly lifted one hand from the counter and brushed his fingers against my knee.

The touch was light enough to dismiss as accidental, but neither of us pretended it was.

I went still as his hand moved a little higher along my bare thigh, my fingers tightening in his shirt while I tried to keep my expression from giving away just how badly I wanted him to continue. The kitchen had become painfully quiet, and I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind us.

Then his hand stopped.

Alexander lifted his eyes to mine, studying my face as though he was searching for an answer I hadn't been brave enough to give him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly.