Tapping Into Synonym

'Strip' his eyes glinted devilishly as he taunted me. My blood ran cold. There was no way I was going to strip for my boss, the CEO. Who was I kidding I was going to if I wanted to keep my job. And I desperately needed to keep my job! He was tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk as I thought through all the ramifications this could bring. I wouldn't even be in this position if he hadn't caught me red handed stealing a file of evidence for the opposing lawyer. One that if they read he would be able to twist away allowing his guilty client to go free. I didn't want to have to do this, but after being thrust into debt to save my sister and send her to rehab I didn't have a lot of choice. 'I'm waiting ...' his voice like ice as he watched me a deer in headlights. If I don't do what he asks I will not only be fired but face imprisonment for tampering with evidence. I took a gulp my shaking hands coming up to reach the buttons of my silk blouse as I slowly unbutton them. His eyes darken with lust as he watches my humiliation. Stephanie Bridges is a personal legal assistant to the CEO of a large legal firm in the city. Her boss is a tyrant, his mere presence causes her to fluster with the dangerous power that exudes him. To make matters worse he happens to be drop dead gorgeous! A terrifying combination. Jake Summers not only antagonizes her at work but he also haunts her in her dreams. Dreams where he punishes her in a deliciously sinful way.

Seven years I spent with Jason Shaw, but I never got a ring. Rather, all I received was an invitation to another person's wedding. That day, as a wedding planner, I was at the rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments. Looking up, I saw the man whom I waited every day to reply to my messages, walking down the aisle, arm in arm with another bride. "Her boyfriend had something urgent come up, so I'm filling in for him," he said, standing straight, his tone light, a small smile on his lips. But his eyes couldn't hide the hurt, like a child who lost his favorite toy. As if that wasn't enough, he told me to hand over my wedding plan. He patted me on the shoulder, saying sincerely, "There's no rush for us. We've got plenty of time. I promise I'll give you an even better wedding. Just help me out this time. It's not like I'm not going to marry you." He didn't know that I had revised the wedding plan hundreds of times, even counted and recounted the bouquets seven times. To me, it wasn't mere work—it was a dream I held for five long years. I didn't argue anymore, just quietly stepped aside. Later, I lay alone in a hospital bed, listening to the rain tapping against the window from outside. I counted each drop as the hours slipped through my fingers. Perhaps those who worked so hard to create happiness for others had lost the right to their own happiness.