SURRENDERING TO TEMPTATION

CHAPTER SIX: DESKBOUND DESIRE

The tap of my heels echoed sharply across the marble floor as I returned to my office after a long, back-to-back meeting stretch. I needed silence—needed to be alone with my thoughts, my tension, my desire that had been simmering like low flame under glass ever since yesterday. Since him.

I closed the door behind me with a soft click and exhaled. The city skyline spilled through the tall windows, but I barely noticed it. My body was too aware—of the ache between my thighs, of the restless twitch in my fingers, of the way I was still carrying the memory of his mouth from last night.

I didn’t expect him today. I hadn’t called. I hadn’t texted. And yet, the moment I turned around to face my desk, there he was.

Standing right by it.

My breath hitched.

He looked like sin. A tailored navy suit hugging broad shoulders, one hand tucked into his pocket, and the other holding a sleek white envelope. His eyes found mine the moment I saw him—dark, knowing, charged.

“I have a message for you, Ms. Eun-mi,” he said, voice low, teasing.

I stepped closer, trying to mask the way my thighs instinctively pressed together. “Is that all you came to deliver?”

He smirked, setting the envelope gently on the desk. “That depends. Do you want more?”

I should’ve walked past him. I should’ve opened the envelope. I should’ve sat down like the CEO I was.

But instead, I paused—just a breath away from him.

His hand came up, tracing a line from my shoulder to the top button of my silk blouse. He didn’t unfasten it. Just… hovered.

I swallowed. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I think you want to get burned.”

And God help me—I did.

He stepped closer, crowding me backward until I hit the edge of the desk. His fingers brushed the second button, teasing it loose. Then the third. His knuckles grazed my skin, and I shivered. He leaned in, mouth grazing the shell of my ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

Neither could I.

I gripped the desk behind me as his lips trailed down my neck, slow and reverent, until I couldn’t breathe right. My blouse was completely undone now, falling open to expose lace and skin and heat. His hand slid along my waist, guiding me to sit on the edge of the desk.

“You were going to wait until we got home,” he murmured. “But now you’re not so patient, are you?”

I was never patient when it came to him.

“I want you,” I whispered, pulling him in by his tie. “Right here.”

He groaned—low, guttural, the sound of surrender—and then his mouth crushed mine. Desperate. Bruising. Perfect.

His hands were everywhere—tugging my skirt up, sliding my panties down my thighs, making me gasp. The cool air hit my heat, but then he was there, kneeling, spreading me open with a hunger that made me dizzy.

“You taste like want,” he said against my inner thigh, before dragging his tongue through the slickness of me, slow and wicked.

I moaned, hand tangling in his hair, tilting my hips toward him.

Every flick of his tongue was torture. Every groan that vibrated against me lit sparks under my skin. And when he pushed two fingers inside me, curling them just right while his mouth never left my c**t—I lost every grip on control.

I came hard, trembling, crying out his name like it was the only word I knew.

But he wasn’t done.

He rose, his hands on my hips now, and I felt the hard line of him through his slacks. My pulse skittered.

“Turn around,” he growled.

I did, breathless and aching.

He pushed the papers and folders to the side, clearing space on my desk, then bent me forward over it. His hands slid along my spine, possessive, reverent, then gripped my hips as he entered me in one smooth, devastating thrust.

My nails scratched the wood.

“f**k—Eun-mi.”

The way he said my name broke something open in me. I pushed back against him, greedy for more, needing him deeper, harder. Each thrust rocked the desk, echoed through the room, matched the rhythm of my moans.

There was nothing delicate about this.

It was raw. Messy. Real.

It was two people who couldn’t get enough—who had waited too long.

When he reached around to rub my c**t again, I lost it. My orgasm slammed into me like lightning—sharp, shuddering, wet.

He followed with a growl, burying himself deep, pulsing inside me with a rough, broken moan.

We stayed like that for a minute—panting, tangled, spent.

Then he kissed the back of my neck.

“Guess I’ll need to deliver messages more often,” he whispered.

I laughed, breathless. “Next time, knock.”

He grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

His breath was still ragged as he slowly pulled out, trailing his fingers down the curve of my spine, his touch featherlight now, reverent. I was still bent over the desk, my body humming with the aftershock, flushed and slick, my mind floating somewhere between bliss and disbelief.

He helped me up gently, his hands steady at my waist, his lips brushing my temple.

“You okay?” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “Better than okay.”

He kissed me again—softer now, like we weren’t just a tangle of sweat and desire moments ago. This kiss was slower. Sweeter. As if we weren’t just f*****g—but making something that felt more dangerous. More complicated.

I looked up at him. “That was reckless.”

“And you loved every second.”

I smiled despite myself. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned against the desk beside me, zipping up his slacks. “You make me reckless, Eun-mi.”

That name on his lips—it never got old. Never felt wrong.

I reached for my blouse, slipping it back on, though his eyes stayed glued to the swell of my breasts as I buttoned it up. His gaze was a touch possessive. A little smug.

“You’ve got meetings,” he said, nodding to the clock.

“I do,” I muttered. “But they’ll have to wait. I’m not walking out of here like this.”

He laughed, deep and low. “Like what?”

“Like a woman who just had an orgasm so intense she forgot her own name.”

He grinned, pride glinting in his eyes. “I could help remind you.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trouble.”

He leaned in, stealing one last kiss. “And you love it.”

I did. More than I cared to admit.

I watched him straighten his tie and head toward the door, only to pause, hand on the handle.

He looked back. “You’re addictive, Eun-mi.”

Then he left—just like that—leaving me alone in the quiet hum of my office, still tasting him on my lips, still aching in places he’d touched.

I sat on the edge of my desk again, smoothing down my skirt, staring at the papers we’d pushed aside. The world outside kept moving—cars honked, phones buzzed—but I sat there, legs crossed, pulse still thrumming, and whispered to the room,

“What the hell are we doing?”

But I already knew.

We were diving headfirst into something that didn’t make sense. Something dangerous. Something irresistible.

And I didn’t want it to stop.