In Between Her Legs.

I should have walked away the first time I saw Damien Sinclair. He wasn’t my boss, not technically. But in this company, in these gleaming glass towers that smelled of wealth and power, he might as well have been a god. His name carried weight, his presence demanded attention, and yet, it was his silence that spoke the loudest. Most men in power liked to flaunt it. They filled rooms with their voices, asserted dominance through arrogance. Not Damien. He was quiet. Measured. The kind of man who didn’t need to tell you he was dangerous you just knew. I remember the way he looked at me that first day an assessing, unreadable gaze that felt like the edge of a blade against my skin. He was taking my measure, stripping me down without a single touch. And I remember the way I smiled back, tipping my chin just enough to challenge him. Men like him weren’t supposed to ignore women like me. I was used to being admired. Wanted. My beauty was a weapon, my charm a carefully sharpened blade. I knew how to make men suffer for a taste. But Damien Sinclair? He didn’t chase. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t even blink. That’s what made him irresistible. So I tested him. A passing touch in the hallway. A smirk during meetings. A dress cut just low enough to make a statement. Nothing. Until tonight. It’s late, and I shouldn’t be here. The office is a hushed, empty space at this hour, the hum of the city filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline stretches beyond the glass, neon lights blinking like a heartbeat against the darkness. I lean against the sleek conference table, a glass of wine balanced between my fingers. Not exactly company policy, but then again, rules were never really my thing. The air is still, thick with the kind of silence that only comes in the dead of night. And then I feel him. Not a sound. Not a warning. Just a presence, dark and unyielding, standing too close, stealing the air from my lungs. A slow, deliberate inhale. The scent of something rich and expensive cedar, leather, power. A shiver traces my spine before I even turn. "I hope that isn’t company wine." His voice is smooth, a low vibration against my skin. I glance over my shoulder, keeping my expression bored even as my pulse hammers. "Would you like a sip?" He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, watching me. God, those eyes. Dark and knowing, the kind that strip you bare without ever touching you. I take a slow sip, letting the wine linger on my tongue. "You’re working late, Mr. Sinclair." "So are you." There’s no amusement in his voice, no hint of the usual office flirtation I’m used to. Just something unreadable. Something... dangerous. I smirk. "Well, someone has to keep the company running while you’re off brooding in your tower." A muscle ticks in his jaw. Interesting. I take another sip, slow and deliberate. If he wants to stand there, silent and intense, I’ll make him wait. But then he moves. A step closer. Not touching me, but everywhere all at once. And suddenly, the game shifts. "Do you think this is a game, Selena?" His voice is lower now, quieter. A warning wrapped in velvet. I swallow, my grip tightening around the glass. "Isn’t it?" Another step. The air changes, charged, electric. My body reacts before my mind does spine straightening, breath catching in my throat. "I don’t play games," he murmurs. I force a smirk, but my pulse betrays me, thudding loud enough that I swear he can hear it. "You’ve been testing me." It’s not a question. I tilt my chin up. "And?" "And I’ve let you." I don’t know why those words send a spike of heat through me, but they do. He’s still close. Too close. The scent of him, the quiet command in his stance it’s intoxicating. "You wanted my attention," he continues. "Congratulations. You have it." A slow, dark smile tugs at his lips. "Now let’s see if you can handle it." And then he’s gone. The air rushes back into my lungs, and I let out a shaky exhale. My hand trembles as I set the wineglass down. Damn him. Damn me. Because for the first time, I don’t know if I’ve won or if I’ve just lost everything.