Forbidden Pleasure

“Do you? Is that why you’re wearing this delightfully indecent outfit?”

It was Emma’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “It’s the same thing I had on Friday night. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.”

He ran his knuckles along his jaw. “As I recall, you were wearing a bra on Friday night. In the future, stick to the dress code.”

The warning made her smile. “Here’s a fun fact: there’s actually no mention of undergarments in the entire policy.”

She stood then, walked over to the window to give him a moment to wonder what else she may or may not be wearing, in case he had the inclination to do so. “But feel free to send me home if you feel like I’m not living up to the hallowed reputation of Whitfield Industries.”

“I get the impression that you’re trying to upset me.”

“And why would I do that?” She tried to sound offhand as he got to his feet and joined her by the window.

“I’m not going to dissolve the contract, Emma.” The words were soft. Matter-of-fact. Final. “I have too much at stake. SecurePay is going to launch next week, on time, and you are going to help me make sure it does. You signed the employment contract. If you don’t want the perks you were offered this morning to go with it, that’s your choice.”

“Because it’s insulting!” Emma whirled to face him, not in the least surprised to discover Vivienne Grant had called up to let him know how the meeting had gone, but angry nonetheless. “A residence? A driver? A clothing allowance? What your lawyer presented to me this morning was basically a mistress contract, minus the sex in return for your generosity.”

His eyes narrowed dangerously at that. “I don’t need to bribe women into my bed. They come when I tell them to.”

The veiled reference to Friday night snapped her spine straight.

“Come for me, Emma. Just like that. I want to feel you squeezing my cock.”

Bastard, she thought, even as heat uncoiled in her belly.

“You told me why you couldn’t work for me. No house. No transportation. No clothes.”

He let the last reason hang meaningfully for a moment, as though he knew her mind would conjure visions of naked skin, shifting muscles, sweaty bodies, her imaginings made all the more visceral now she knew how it felt to have Max thrusting inside her.

“I was merely trying to rectify those concerns. That’s how negotiation works.” He stepped closer, his nearness muddling her senses. Making her want things she shouldn’t. “In order to reach an accord, sometimes one party submits to the demands of the other party.”

She glared up at him, resenting the innuendo. “What happened between us wasn’t a negotiation. It was a hostile takeover.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself.” His voice was pure sex, and she hated him for it in that moment.

“You know what, Max? Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said darkly.

And that, she realized as she turned back to the window, was exactly the problem. He just didn’t know how right he was.

If her time here was just about waiting for him to discover she wasn’t the one who installed the spyware on her computer, she would have gladly stayed while Max’s cybersecurity team did whatever they needed to do to prove her innocence.

The problem, however, was that the longer she stuck around waiting to be cleared for the corporate espionage she’d had nothing to do with, the more opportunity they’d have to figure out that she had, in fact, been espionaging in what could be construed as a corporate-esque manner...

When Max found out she’d been feeding carefully curated bits of information to his own father—a man he openly despised—for the entirety of her tenure at Whitfield Industries, well, it was almost enough to make a girl wish she’d been the one who’d installed the spyware on her computer.

Emma squared her shoulders, crushed the flare of guilt. She’d had her reasons for accepting Charles Whitfield’s bargain, and if she had it to do over, she’d make the deal again.

Max was a big boy. With millions of dollars and an army of lawyers. He’d figure a way out of this unscathed. Her fate, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so certain. She needed to take care of herself.

To that end, she injected some steel in her spine and her voice as she faced him. “You seemed to enjoy yourself,” she taunted, throwing his earlier words back in his face, as though no time had elapsed since he’d spoken.

“You outrageous little—”

His hands manacled her upper arms, hauling her against him as his mouth crashed down on hers.

Emma meant to resist, truly she did, but her lips parted under the siege of angry lust, and when she raised her arms to push him away, they ended up twining around his neck and pulling him closer.

Stupid arms.

Max grabbed her ass and hauled her up his body before executing a quarter turn and shoving her back against the window. They both grunted at the rough pleasure of their bodies colliding. Emma wrapped her legs around his waist, vaguely aware that the ripping sound that accompanied the grind of his hips against hers meant the slit in her skirt was probably up to her navel now, but she was too lost in the taste and feel of Max to care.

A loud beep echoed through the room, intruding before things got really interesting, and he cursed against her mouth, letting her go so fast that she almost stumbled.

The beep sounded again, and Max stalked toward the desk, running his hands through his hair and tugging his tie straight as he reached out and hit a button on his phone, leaving Emma breathless and frustrated, and a little lust-drunk, if she were being honest. With a frown, she glanced down at her skirt.

“What?” he snapped.

The slit wasn’t quite to her navel, but the frayed material made her think its fate lay with a trash can, not a seamstress. As it stood, she was going to need a couple of safety pins to finish off the workday without getting charged with indecent exposure.

Sherri’s voice flooded the room. “Kaylee’s here to see you. She says it’s urgent. And I have Jesse Hastings on the line for your ten o’clock.”

“Tell them both to wait. We’re almost done here.”

He hit the disconnect button and put his hands on his hips, but he didn’t say anything.

“So...” Emma glanced over at the opaque glass wall. “What do you suppose Sherri thinks is happening in here right now?”

“I pay her not to speculate.” And just like that, Max was all business again. “Who knows that you quit?”

Emma sighed and pushed away from the window, walking toward the front of Max’s desk. By the time she’d secured her position at Whitfield Industries, the need for overtime pay and her mother’s worsening condition had taken up any time she’d have used to cultivate coworkers into friends. Somehow, it had seemed easier not to bother. “If that’s all you’re worried about, then we’re done here. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving except for you.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. If we’re going to catch whoever is behind this, discretion is key.”

The words snapped her like a rubber band. “What? I thought I was your suspect.”

Max’s amber eyes roved her face, looking for something, some answer. It felt...personal. Not like business at all.

She swallowed against the buzz of attraction that charged the air.

After what felt like an eternity, Max turned his attention to the files on his desk. “You’ve been cleared.”

The gruff announcement blindsided her.

“What are you talking about? If you’re not investigating me, why did you come to my place with that contract? Why am I here?”

When Max looked at her again, his impassive mask was back in place. “As I said, the SecurePay launch needs to go off without a hitch. And in order to unearth the mole before the release date, we need our traitor to feel confident that we are still unaware of the leak.”