Chapter 1: The Unspoken Spark
I’ve always prided myself on being the sharpest tool in the office shed—quick with a comeback, quicker with a spreadsheet. But today, as I sat across from Ethan in our cramped, glass-walled meeting room, my focus was shot to hell. The man was a walking distraction, all broad shoulders and smoldering hazel eyes, but it wasn’t until I caught the subtle shift of his hand under the table that my breath hitched. He was touching himself—right there, over his tailored work pants, the outline of his hard cock unmistakable even through the fabric.
I should’ve looked away. Hell, I should’ve called him out for being a perv in the middle of a budget review. Instead, my throat went dry, and a dangerous heat coiled low in my belly. I crossed my legs under the table, pretending to scribble notes, but my eyes flicked back to him. He didn’t notice me noticing—not yet.
“Numbers not adding up, Mia?” Ethan’s voice cut through my haze, smooth as whiskey, a smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, one hand still casually resting near his crotch, like he wasn’t just stroking himself under the damn table.
I arched a brow, forcing my tone to stay cool. “Oh, they’re adding up just fine. Question is, are you even paying attention, or is something else... distracting you?”
His smirk widened, but a flicker of uncertainty danced in his eyes. “Careful, Mia. Sounds like you’re fishing for something you might not wanna catch.”
I snorted, leaning forward just enough to let him see the challenge in my gaze. “Please. I don’t fish. If I want something, I take it. But I’m not sure you’re worth the bait.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened, and I saw the faintest twitch of his hand against his pants. He was hard—painfully so, if the tension in his shoulders was any clue. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Maybe I need a hand with... recalculating. You offering?”
My pulse spiked, but I wasn’t about to let him see me sweat. I leaned back, crossing my arms with a scoff. “Dream on, Ethan. I don’t do charity cases. If you’ve got a problem down there, handle it yourself after hours.”
He chuckled, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “Oh, I can handle it. But I bet you’d enjoy the show. Or maybe you’d rather join in—help a colleague out?”
I rolled my eyes, but the heat between my thighs was undeniable now. Damn him for getting under my skin like this. “You’re gonna have to work a lot harder to convince me, pretty boy. I don’t play easy.”
Ethan’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a near growl. “I’m not asking for easy, Mia. I’m asking for you. One touch—just to take the edge off. No strings, no bullshit. You know you’re curious.”
I bit my lip, hating how much I wanted to say yes. My mind screamed professionalism, but my body was already leaning toward rebellion. “Curious isn’t the same as stupid,” I shot back, but my voice wavered just enough to betray me.
He noticed. Of course he did. Ethan stood slowly, rounding the table until he was close—too close. The scent of his cologne mixed with something raw and masculine hit me like a punch. “Then let me make it worth your while,” he murmured, his hand brushing mine on the table, a silent question.
My breath caught, and for a moment, I let myself imagine it—my fingers wrapping around his cock, feeling how hard he was for me, watching him unravel under my control. But I pulled my hand back, smirking despite the ache building inside me. “Nice try, Ethan. But I’m not sold yet. Keep begging—maybe I’ll reconsider.”
His eyes flashed with frustration and raw hunger, but he didn’t push. Not yet. And as I turned back to my laptop, pretending to focus, I knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. The tension between us was a live wire, and I had a feeling it was only a matter of time before we both got burned.
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