Chapter 48: I Have a Boyfriend

“It doesn’t matter, because I have a boyfriend,” Harper said clearly and looked deep into his icy blue eyes. “And I made that clear to him.” The words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘made that clear’ struck Oliver like physical blows, his entire body tensing as if absorbing impact. For a split second, the possessive rage in his icy blue eyes softened into something raw and exposed–sheer relief mixed with profound vulnerability. “You are mine,” he breathed, the declaration raw and unfiltered. His hand moved from the door to cup her face roughly, thumb stroking across her bottom lip with reverence. “Say it again. Tell me you belong to me.” The professional setting dissolved completely as he crowded her against the solid wood surface, his other hand gripping her hip possessively. “I need to hear if from you before I lose my mind over there having seen him stare at what is mine.” His forehead rested against hers once more, but time there was no pretence of control– just desperate need pouring from every pore.

“I am yours,” Harper said softly but clearly. “God, you are sexy when you are jealous. It’s not fair.” A low guttural sound escaped Oliver’s throat at her admission, the last vestige of his CEO composure evaporating completely. The compliment landed like gasoline on a fire, transforming the possessive tension into something darker and more primal. “Not fair?” he echoed, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You think walking around here looking like that and having other men drool over you is fair to me?” his grip on her hip tightened painfully, fingers digging into the soft curve as he pressed his body fully against hers. Through the fabric of their clothes, she could feel the hard length of him straining against her stomach. “The fucking audacity of Evan,” he muttered against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. “Looking at what belongs to me. Touching what belongs to me.”

“You… you still have meetings,” Harper protested weakly. Oliver’s response to her weak protest was immediate and decisive– one arm wrapped securely around her lower back while the other tangled in her loose Auburn hair, tilting her head back to expose the pale column of her throat. His mouth descended with hungry intent, teeth scraping along the pulse point where he would feel her heartbeat racing. “Meetings can wait,” he growled against her skin, his breath hot and insistent. “Right now, I don’t give a damn about profit margins or supply chain logistics.” His hips rocked forward insistently, grinding against her in a rhythm that promised far more than just kisses. The expensive wool of his suit trousers created delicious friction against the growing wetness between her legs, “I am tired of pretending we are just boss and secretary,” he confessed roughly. “I want everyone in this goddamn building to know you are off-limits– that anyone looking at you gets answered to by me personally.”

“Oliver,” Harper muttered in protest. “This outfit is not easy to take off.” She refers to her tight red leather pencil skirt. “Nor are we capable of not making a mess,” she added, trying to sound professional. A low chuckle rumbled in Oliver’s chest at her practical concerns, his grip on her hair loosening slightly as he considered the logistics of her argument. The professional secretary in her was warring with the woman who had just declared herself his, and he found the contrast utterly intoxicating. “Messy is good,” he murmured against her neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along her collarbone. “I have been dreaming about getting you messy since day one, Anna. Leather skirt of not, I am getting you out of these clothes before the afternoon is over.” His free hand slid down to cup her ass possessively through the tight material, fingers testing the give of the fabric. “And as for meetings,” he added with a smirk, “I will reschedule everything. My calendar suddenly cleared up.” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his icy blue eyes burning with a mixture of hunger and genuine affection.

“Wait,” Harper said quickly. “How about we negotiate?” Oliver’s brows furrowed at the sudden proposal, his grip on her waist slackening slightly as curiosity replaced pure lust. The idea of negotiating terms with her– his employee, his girlfriend, the woman who drove him insane– brought a wry smile to his lips. “A negotiation,” he repeated slowly, studying her flushed face with renewed interest. “Alright, I am intrigued. What sort of terms are we discussing here?” he released her from the doorframe but didn’t step back, keeping himself close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. His hands moved to rest on either side of her hips, caging her against the solid wood surface one more. “Let’s hear your proposal then,” he challenged softly, his voice carrying that commanding edge that made him both terrifying and irresistible n boardrooms across the city.

Harper leaned forward slightly and whispered in Oliver’s ear seductively, “If you can get through your financial reviews and your meeting with Mr. Andrew. I will give you the best blow job of your life, right here, in your office.” Oliver’s entire body went rigid at the promise whispered directly into his ear, the words striking him with the force of a physical touch. “Here?” he repeated hoarsely, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “In my office? While everyone outside is walking by and making calls and filing reports?” his grip on her hips tightened instinctively, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he processed the audacious proposal. The image of her one her knees before him, right here in his leather chair while financial reports lay scattered across his desk– it was both depraved and irresistibly tempting. “Mr. Andrew’s meeting is in forty-five minutes,” he calculated quickly, mind racing with logistics and risk assessment. “And the financial review required my full attention.” Harper watched him closely and then asked in a challenging tone of voice, “So, do we have a deal?”