Chapter 5:My Boss;My Maniac

RENNIE’S POV

The darkness swallowed everything but my heartbeat. It pounded loud, thunderous—not in my ears, but in my chest—echoing through me like a warning… or a wish. Shawn let out a low breath, shifting the air.

I felt the heat of it brush against my cheek, curling something inside me. Our eyes were locked, and then—slowly, like a decision already made—he moved. Not away. Closer.

The air thickened, hotter, tighter. I could taste his cologne, feel electricity buzzing off his skin. His hand rose, brushing my jaw—featherlight, soft, almost hesitant—and I almost forgot how to breathe.

“Mr Shawn…” My voice came out lower than before, thick with need as his hands slipped beneath my robe. “W-we should stop-p. We really should,” I stuttered. He gave a soft chuckle—barely a sound, more of a warm exhale.

“Funny,” he murmured, “you don’t sound like you want to stop.”

My cheeks heated. “I—I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to,” he whispered. “Your eyes say it all.” Truly, I didn't want him to stop, and so did he.

Then soft, searching, inevitably, his lips met mine. It was gentle, but rough. He didn’t pull back. And neither did I.

It felt like every second of silence between us finally burst—hours of careful glances, strict rules, and unspoken want wrapped around clumsy mistakes all suddenly set on fire. I pushed him slightly, turning my face away, trying to cut the moment short before I lost myself completely.

But he was persistent.

Of course he was.

His hands cupped my face, thumbs grazing my lips, and then the kiss deepened—demanding and desperate, yet controlled, like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t remember why.

“Don’t be afraid and try to run from me,” he murmured against my mouth, voice warm and teasing. “Not now.”

A shiver rolled through me. “I’m not running,” I whispered, breathless.

His answering smile was wicked.

Before I could protest further, his strong arms lifted me from under the desk with practiced ease, my robe falling helplessly around my thighs. He set me on top of the cold, polished mahogany desk. His big, warm hands slid to the backs of my thighs, drawing me closer as his lips returned to mine with surprising tenderness.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispered, kissing me again—slow this time, softer, like he was memorizing the shape of me. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“No,” I whispered honestly. “I just want to leave.”

He laughed quietly, then kissed me like he’d been starving for it—like my mouth was the answer to a question he had never dared to ask aloud.

While we were both usurped by the intimate moment, a soft knock from Diane snapped everything in half. Instinctively, I slid off the desk, heart in my throat as I turned toward the stairs.

Shawn sighed, forehead dropping to mine with a tiny groan. “She has the worst timing.” I swatted his chest lightly. “Shh. Don’t be dramatic. She mustn't see me like this.”

“Relax,” he whispered. “She can’t see a single thing.”

“Just focus… on me.” His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mixing, silence breaking open between us.

“Mr Shawn, let's end it now. I feel this all isn't right,” I quivered, my hands resting against his chest.

“Rennie, you aren't guilty. Stop the look,” he whispered. “And don’t pretend you feel this is wrong.”

His words struck the truth in me, because for one reckless second, I let go of every reason why this was wrong. Because at that moment, it felt right. It felt like falling. But as his mouth trailed down to my neck and his hand slid to the middle of my thigh—conscious reality hit me again.

Diane.

Her little hands. Her laughter. Her trust. The promise I made: I am not interested in becoming your mom or auntie.

I stepped back, my heartbeat still racing. “We can’t,” I whispered, my voice unsteady. “I’m… I’m leaving.”

His expression faltered—just for a breath—like he hated the words but understood why I said them.

He exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his dark hair. “You’re right.”

The words should’ve calmed me, but then he added, “Doesn’t mean I’m done with you, Rennie. You’ll be the one walking back to me.”

He smirked slightly, softer than before. “You always do.”

My stomach flipped at his flirty threat. Still, I couldn’t stay.

I rushed up the stairs toward the door—but the steel keypad blinked back at me. I typed a random number.

Beep. Error.

The screen flashed red. Panic bubbled. I’d been too busy being scared of his “hideout” to pay attention when Diane pressed the code.

Below, he leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Do you need the code? Or do you just want me to come up there and rescue you?”

“I… need it. The code,” I said quietly.

“You’re not getting out like that,” he replied, moving toward me.

“You could try again—but you’d get it wrong every single time.” He scrolled his phone lightly. “And you’re cuter when you panic. Though… no, I want to help.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, irritation surging up my veins.

His gaze lifted, intense, unreadable, yet soft. “If you want to leave, just give in. Calmly. Honestly.”

I walked back down and stopped by the desk. He gestured with two fingers for me to come closer, and I did. We stood in front of the sofa, closer than comfortable.

“You want to get out,” he murmured, hot breath on my neck, “you’ll have to beg.”

My breath caught. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Only when it comes to you,” he whispered back. He leaned in, fingers brushing my lips, teasing.

“All you have to do is beg me, Rennie. Just once. Sweet and soft. And maybe I’ll let you go.”

My skin flamed. My pulse pounded.

This man—this dangerous, stubborn, clingy man—was playing a game.

And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave—until Diane knocked again. And that was enough for me to make my decision.