He pulls me in by the back of my neck and kisses me and it’s nothing like I expected.
Not desperate. Deliberate. Like he’s been planning exactly this and now that he’s stopped fighting it he’s going to do it properly, start to finish, no corners cut.
He tastes like whiskey and the decision he just made.
I grab his shirt.
He walks me backward until my thighs hit the desk and lifts me onto it.
He steps between my legs and just looks at me for a moment, my dress hiked up around my hips, my underwear already gone somewhere on the floor.
“I told myself I’d brought you here to look out for you,” he says. His hands run up my thighs, steady and possessive.
“I arranged your internship. Pulled strings. I told myself it was the responsible thing.”
“Was it?”
“No.” His hands reach my hips and
