Time stopped.
Sasha's hand froze between her legs, the sound of her own name still trembling on her lips.
And there he was.
Xavier Blackwood.
Standing in the doorway.
Motionless.
Watching.
Her heart stuttered violently against her ribs as panic clawed its way into her throat.
She yanked the towel up in one terrified, breathless movement - too late. Far too late. Her flushed skin, her parted legs, the desperation in her moan - he had seen it all.
"X-Xavier..."
Her voice cracked, barely a whisper.
His eyes didn't move. Not from her.
Not from the towel that barely covered her.
Not from the place where her thighs were still trembling.
His chest rose and fell like a man barely breathing.
"I-I didn't know-I thought the door was-"
Locked.
It wasn't.
She never checked.
"I didn't mean-"
Still, he said nothing.
That silence was worse than shouting.
Worse than rage.
He stepped in.
Just one step.
Sasha scrambled back on the bed, clinging to the towel like a shield, cheeks burning with shame, throat tight with humiliation. Her legs curled under her, her eyes wide, filled with something between terror and... longing.
"Please..." she whispered. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" His voice was low. Rough. Dangerous.
"Like I'm something dirty."
His jaw twitched.
"I didn't say that," he muttered.
"You didn't have to."
She looked away, unable to hold his stare.
But his eyes - God, his eyes - still pinned her down.
"You said this was professional," she whispered. "That you wouldn't do anything. That it was all business."
"And it is," he snapped - but it sounded like a lie.
Silence again.
Thick. Loaded.
He stepped closer.
She shrank back instinctively, and that one motion - her vulnerability, her fear - made something in his face flicker.
He stopped.
Ran a hand through his hair.
"This never happened," he said flatly. "You'll get dressed. You'll go to sleep. And tomorrow morning, you'll leave before I wake up."
Her throat tightened. "Sir-"
"No." His voice was sharp. Final. "No questions. No conversations. No more... whatever this is."
The words hit like ice.
She nodded slowly, eyes stinging, heart racing.
But just as he turned to leave, his hand still on the doorframe-
He paused.
Didn't look back.
Just said:
"But next time you scream my name like that..."
A breath. A threat. A promise.
"...you better be ready to deal with the consequences."
And then he was gone.
Door closing softly behind him.
Leaving her alone.
Naked. Shaking. Humiliated.
And more desperate than she had ever been.
★★★★★★★
He slammed the door behind him.
But it didn't help.
Her moan was still echoing in his skull - broken, breathless, wet with need. His name ripped from her throat like a plea.
"Xavier-oh my God..."
His fists clenched.
No.
No.
He couldn't afford this.
Not now.
Not with her.
He stalked down the hallway like a man on the edge, chest tight, jaw locked. The penthouse was silent except for the low hum of the city far below. But inside his head - chaos.
She'd been on his bed.
Legs parted. Skin flushed. Writhing. Drenched in need.
And she didn't even know he was watching at first.
He could still see it - the way her head tipped back, towel slipping, her hand moving between her thighs like she couldn't survive without it.
The way her hips lifted off the bed when she said his name again.
He let out a curse and ripped open the liquor cabinet, pouring a shot of whiskey and downing it in one go. The burn barely registered.
You said nothing would happen.
You made her feel safe.
You told her it was all business.
His own rules.
And he was breaking them.
Worse - she had no idea the grip she had on him.
She didn't know what kind of man he was becoming just watching her fall apart like that.
And the worst part?
He hadn't touched her.
Not this time.
But his cock was hard and aching, twitching behind the zipper of his slacks like a punishment. He hadn't felt this out of control since-
No.
He wouldn't think about that.
He leaned forward, both palms braced against the countertop, head hanging low. Breathing like a man barely containing something savage.
She had whimpered his name.
That wasn't a game.
That wasn't seduction.
That was real.
And he wanted to go back in there.
Right now.
Rip the towel off.
Drag her under him.
Make her scream again - this time with his fingers, his mouth, his cock-
Xavier slammed the cabinet shut.
His reflection in the mirror above the bar was pale. Cold. Unrecognizable.
He was losing it.
Over a girl who worked for him.
Over Sasha Hart - the same timid secretary he ignored for an entire year.
He rubbed his han
d down his face and whispered under his breath.
"Get. It. Together."
Because if he went back in there...
If he touched her now...
He wouldn't stop.
And she'd never look at him the same again.