The admission sent heat spiraling through James's system, making him shift restlessly in his chair. Every nerve ending in his body felt electrified, hyperaware of Victoria's proximity and the promise implicit in her words.
"I kept thinking about how you looked when I told you that you were mine," Victoria continued, her voice dropping to a more intimate register. "The way your pupils dilated, the way your breath caught. You liked it, didn't you, James? Being claimed like that?"
James felt his mouth go dry at the direct question, his cluelessness leaving him completely uncertain about how to respond. The truth was that he had liked it, had been aroused and thrilled by Victoria's possessive declaration in ways that still confused and overwhelmed him. But admitting that felt like crossing a line he wasn't sure he was ready to cross.
"I..." he began, then stopped, unable to find words that wouldn't betray him..
Women liked experienced, strong and capable men, especially someone as Victoria Sharp; he won't spoil his chance over being gullible.
Victoria's smile was knowing, predatory, as if she could read every confused thought written across his features. She stepped back from his chair suddenly, the loss of her touch leaving James feeling disoriented and bereft.
"I should let you get back to work," she said, moving toward the door with the same fluid grace she'd displayed entering the office.
James watched her approach the door with growing panic, feeling like he was missing some crucial cue or failing to respond appropriately to her advances. His inexperience left him completely uncertain about the rules of this interaction, about whether he should say something or do something to keep her from leaving.
Victoria paused with her hand on the door handle, turning back to look at him with eyes that seemed to strip away every layer of his professional composure.
"You dressed up for me, didn't you?" she asked, her gaze traveling over his appearance with obvious satisfaction.
The question hit James like a physical blow, direct and unapologetic in its implications. She wasn't asking whether he'd worn the tie, she was asking whether he'd chosen to participate in her pursuit, to accept her claim on him by wearing her gift.
James swallowed hard, his throat working around words that felt too significant to speak casually. However, Victoria's expectant gaze demanded an answer, demanded acknowledgment of what they both knew was true.
"Yes," he said quietly, the single word carrying the weight of surrender.
Victoria's smile was triumphant, satisfied, like a predator who'd just secured her prey exactly where she wanted them. "Good boy," she murmured, the words sending heat racing through James's system like wildfire.
"We have the morning executive meeting in thirty minutes," she added, her tone shifting back to something more professionally appropriate. "Don't be late."
And then she was gone, leaving James alone in his office with the taste of anticipation heavy on his tongue and the memory of her touch still burning along his forearms.
The moment the door closed behind her, James collapsed forward onto his desk, his forehead pressing against the cool wood as he tried to process what had just happened. His entire body felt like it was humming with electricity, every nerve ending still hyperaware from Victoria's deliberate touches.
What the hell am I doing? He thought desperately, will his inexperience affect every aspect of their interaction making it feel simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. She is so confident, so certain about what she wants. How am I supposed to match that kind of intensity?
The silk tie felt like it was strangling him, a constant reminder of Victoria's claim and his own acceptance of it. His forearms still tingled where she had touched him, his skin hypersensitive in ways that made his clothing feel restrictive and uncomfortable.
James had always known that Victoria Sharp was a force to be reckoned with in professional settings, her reputation for ruthless efficiency and strategic brilliance was legendary throughout the industry. However, this personal side of her, this predatory confidence and casual ownership of his responses, was something entirely different. Not even to her previous boyfriends did he witness such aggression.
She pursued what she wanted with the same focused determination she brought to hostile takeovers and billion-dollar deals. And now that focus was directed entirely at him. Should he feel special?
The realization should have been flattering, exciting, the fulfillment of three years of impossible fantasies. Instead, James found himself genuinely questioning whether he had what it took to handle Victoria Sharp in full pursuit mode.
She was experienced, sophisticated, clearly accustomed to taking charge in intimate situations. Meanwhile, James had never even kissed anyone with apart from her, had never navigated the complex dynamics of adult relationships, and had never been responsible for matching someone else's intensity and expectations.
What if I disappoint her? The thought sent anxiety spiking through his system. What if I can't live up to whatever she's imagining? What if my inexperience ruins everything before it even really begins?
However, even as those doubts circled through his mind, James couldn't deny the way his body had responded to Victoria's touch, the way her possessive confidence had made him feel desired and claimed in ways he'd never experienced. There was something intoxicating about being wanted so directly, so unapologetically.
The morning executive meeting loomed ahead of him like both a promise and a threat. Thirty minutes to compose himself, to figure out how to function professionally when Victoria had just spent ten minutes systematically dismantling his composure with casual touches and predatory smiles.
James straightened in his chair and reached for his coffee with hands that were still slightly unsteady. The liquid was perfectly prepared, exactly the way he liked it, another small indication of how closely Victoria had been observing him.
Thirty minutes, he told himself, trying to summon some semblance of professional composure. You can hold it together for one meeting. Just focus on the agenda, on the business at hand.
However, even as he tried to convince himself that he could maintain normal professional boundaries, James knew that everything had changed. Victoria had made her intentions crystal clear, had marked her territory with touches and words that left no room for misinterpretation.
He was hers now, whether he fully understood what that meant or not.
The silk tie seemed to pulse against his throat like a second heartbeat, a constant reminder of Victoria's claim and the promise of whatever came next in her campaign to make him completely, utterly hers.