Page 19 of Tangled Control

My initial nerves being alone with Rian have subsided – he’s been totally committed to the job ever since the others left. Maybe he’s eager to get everything finished so he can meet whoever is at the end of that phone call.

Sincethe incident– as I’ve started calling it – things have reverted to how they used to be. We’re professional and fight like we always do. I almost manage to convince myself thatthe incidentnever actually happened. I just have to repress the way my tummy clenches every time I think about Rian’s large hands.

Rolling my shoulders, I know I should get back to the work.

While I rest my gaze on the dark canal below, there’s a movement in the reflection in the window. Rian is standing by the door, his navy tie loose around his neck. How long has he been there? Why is he staring at me? A few beats pass.

I swallow, my mouth suddenly very dry.

My heart starts thumping faster as he calmly walks towards me. The air thickens with every slow step he takes until he’s right behind me. His presence is so strong, I can feel him even though he doesn’t touch me, our eyes locked in the window reflection.This is bad…

“Are you having a wee break?” His voice alone raises goosebumps on my flesh.

“I think I deserve it, don’t you?” I try to sass, but my words are weak.

“Hm… I guess.” He licks his bottom lip and cocks his head to the side as he gently pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. My skin sizzles where the tip of his finger traces down my neck.

No, no, no….

“Well, we should finish up,” I rush to say, but he stops me with a hand on my hip.

“You’ve been working hard, you deserve a break.”

“I’m sure you—”

He cuts me off, his hand on my hip flexing and his tone low and cajoling. “Let it be known, Miss Taylor, as your boss, I need to foster good behaviour. When I see ill discipline and bad attitude, I will punish.” His Adam’s apple bobs and my insides clench at the memory of his punishment. “And good behaviour is…rewarded.”

There’s a tug of my jacket.

“I…” My breath hitches. I wet my lips while trying to form words that don’t come. The corner of Rian’s mouth lifts as he watches me struggle. I should step away, break this spell that he’s weaving.

There’s another tug. My jacket slides down my shoulders.

“Today, Miss Taylor…you’ve been very good.”

“Mr Kearney, I don’t think…”

“Let me give you your reward.”

The part of me that tries to revolt is too weak, barely a whisper at the back of my mind as my jacket ends up in a heap on the floor. Heat sears from his palms where he places them on my hips. Keeping my eyes locked with his, he pauses. Waiting. Giving me time to object. I should. I should object, do something. Scream — scream at the sinfully tempting devil looming behind me. Or get out and leave. Simply leave! Caught in a spider’s web, I do none of these things as the air around us sizzles and desire builds in my core.

He reaches around to my front, the face of his Rolex glinting on his wrist above his strong hand. My chest expands on a stuttered inhale as he slowly undoes my belt and my zipper. Then the button, the only thing that had prevented my trousers from falling. They now pool around my ankles on the floor. My legs bare, shining pale in the window. It’s like watching someone else - surely this wanton woman who allows her boss’ hands to move up over the shirt - she can’t meme!Long fingers tackle one button at a time, so particular, so controlled, as if we do this every day. As if this isn’t shocking and extreme behaviour. Cool air caresses my skin as the shirt ends up on top of my jacket.

I’m in my underwear.Christ, I’m in my underwear in Rian Kearney’s office.I feel utterly exposed – the white of my modest bra and panties bright beacon reflections. And behind me, Rian, dark and menacing. Can people on the street see me? I shiver, but not because I’m cold. I clench my thighs, and my fingertips dig into my skin to keep still.

He peels my fingers free, folding my arms on my back.

“Hold on to your elbows.”

I do. It makes my chest push out. Rian pulls his tie from around his neck. It’s soft against my skin as he drapes it around my arms, over and over. Rian’s breath is warm on my back as his focus is on what he’s doing behind me. There’s a tug. And then nothing. Yet Rian still stares down at my arms.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamed about tying you up, Miss Taylor,” he rasps.

Nerve endings spark where he traces my skin next to his tie. I try to move my arms, but I can’t. Panic is pushing at my temples.

“I-I thought I was getting a reward?”

His gaze lifts, meeting mine in the window, so dark, his pupils blown. “Being tied up doesn’t have to be a punishment.”