Crossing The Line

MERET

Well...

There were a thousand ways to lose your job.

Hiding under your boss's desk after accidentally watching him masturbate had never made my list.

Was this the end?

I didn't move.

If I stayed perfectly still, maybe he'd think he'd imagined me.

If I stopped breathing...

"Meret."

My name rolled off his tongue with quiet impatience.

"Don't make me ask twice."

I bit down hard on my lower lip.

"Get out from under my desk before I come down there and pull you out myself."

My stomach sank.

Slowly, I crawled out from beneath the desk, feeling every bit as pathetic as I must have looked. As I rose to my feet, I smoothed the wrinkles from my skirt and did my best to keep my eyes fixed on his face.

I failed.

My traitorous gaze drifted downward.

The low-slung towel clung tightly to the hard outline beneath it. He hadn't even bothered to hide the unmistakable evidence of what I'd interrupted before stepping out of the bathroom.

Adrian caught my wandering gaze and let out a low, arrogant hum.

"Find what you were looking for?" he asked softly.

"Mr. Beaumont," I began, my voice tight and painfully thin. "I... I was just organizing the files on your desk. I dropped my pen and—"

"Save it, Meret."

His interruption cut straight through my excuse.

"You were standing in my doorway watching me."

"I wasn't staring!" I lied, heat searing my cheeks.

I really wasn't... right, friend?

My eyes had just... happened to land on him, right?

"I heard water running, and I came to check, but I turned around immediately—"

"Of course," Adrian murmured, taking a slow step toward me.

The distance between us disappeared, bringing with it the clean scent of fresh soap and the darker, richer notes of his cologne clinging to his damp skin.

"Yet you didn't take your eyes off me while I was stroking my cock, did you?"

Those words coming out of his mouth were just so...

"No! That's—that's not what happened—"

"You wished it," he cut in, his dark eyes locking onto mine with ruthless precision.

"Excuse me?" My voice cracked.

"You wished it was you," he repeated, lowering his voice until it became a dangerous, velvet purr.

My eyes narrowed as I instinctively took a step back.

He followed, closing the distance between us once again.

"You wished your hands were wrapped around my cock, taking over for me." He took another deliberate step closer. "You've been wishing it, haven't you, Meret?"

God help me.

He was right.

Less than an hour ago, I'd touched myself to the thought of him in the bed I shared with my husband.

I was filthy.

Hypocritical.

Completely exposed.

The worst part wasn't that he'd caught me staring.

It was that he'd seen straight through me.

He knew I was starving for him, and the humiliation of it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs.

"That's—that's completely out of line, Mr. Beaumont," I stammered, my voice trembling as I pressed myself flat against the edge of the desk. "I am a married woman."

I was married.

That should've been the end of this conversation.

It should've made him step back.

Instead... he smiled.

A dark, lethal smile curled at the corner of his lips.

He took a slow half-step closer before planting both hands on the desk, effectively trapping me between the polished wood and his towering frame.

"A married woman who couldn't pull her eyes away while I had my hand on myself," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate against my skin. "I've watched the way you look at me in meetings, Meret. The way your breath hitches whenever I stand behind your chair. You've been begging for this without saying a word."

My breath caught.

"Adrian—"

"I'm a generous boss," he cut in, his dark eyes never leaving mine. "I think it's about time I start granting your wishes."

Before I could draw another breath, his hand reached for the knot of the damp towel around his waist.

With one smooth flick, the terrycloth slipped to the floor.

An audible gasp escaped my lips.

He stood before me completely naked, his cock stiff, heavy, and thick, jutting proudly toward my stomach. My eyes widened despite every instinct screaming at me to look away. It was bigger than anything my imagination had ever conjured, its sheer size leaving me frozen where I stood.

A sharp rush of heat swept through me.

Adrian didn't give me a chance to recover.

He stepped closer, erasing what little distance remained between us.

"Your fantasy is standing right in front of you," he growled, one hand sliding to the nape of my neck, holding me in place.

He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving mine.

"Reach out."

My pulse stumbled.

"Grab my cock."

His thumb brushed lightly against the back of my neck.

"And stroke it like you've been dying to."