The vest emphasized the breadth of his shoulders while drawing attention to his narrow waist, creating a silhouette that was both professionally appropriate and privately maddening. And with his sleeves rolled up, revealing those strong forearms that she'd explored with such deliberate possession, James looked like every fantasy Victoria had spent months trying to suppress.
This is ridiculous, she thought desperately. You're supposed to be discussing quarterly performance metrics, not cataloguing the way his wrist bones are prominent beneath his skin.
But her treacherous mind seemed determined to focus on entirely unprofessional observations. The way James's fingers moved as he took notes. The subtle flex of muscle in his forearms when he reached for his coffee cup. The brief moment when he'd loosened his tie slightly, revealing just a hint more of his throat.
Victoria felt her pulse hammering against her collar, her heart rate elevated in ways that had nothing to do with business stress and everything to do with the man sitting six feet away from her, completely unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on her composure.
She'd touched that throat this morning, had felt the rapid pulse beneath his skin when she'd trailed her fingers along his neck. The memory sent heat spiraling through her system, making her shift restlessly in her executive chair.
Control yourself, Victoria commanded silently. You're Victoria Sharp. You don't lose control over anything, especially not over wanting something you can't immediately have.
But that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? James had set conditions, had demanded that she court him properly instead of simply taking what they both clearly wanted. The requirement for patience was alien to Victoria's nature, counter to every instinct that had driven her success in both business and personal relationships.
She was accustomed to identifying what she wanted and acquiring it through direct action and strategic maneuvering. Hostile takeovers, aggressive negotiations, the kind of focused pursuit that bent circumstances to her will. But James had explicitly rejected that approach, had insisted on something slower and more deliberate.
The forced restraint was making every interaction feel electrically charged, every glance and casual conversation loaded with subtext and promise. Victoria found herself analyzing James's responses with the same intensity she brought to market analysis, looking for signs of softening resolve or growing attraction.
And there were signs. The way his pupils dilated when she stood close to him. The catch in his breathing when she'd touched his tie that morning. The flush that had colored his neck when she'd called him a good boy.
Good boy. The words echoed in Victoria's mind, bringing with them the memory of James's response, the way his entire body had gone rigid with surprise, the way his lips had parted slightly as if he'd been about to say something before catching himself.
She'd never called anyone that before, had never felt the urge to claim and praise in such possessive terms. However, something about James brought out protective and territorial instincts that Victoria hadn't even known she possessed.
The meeting continued around her, voices discussing profit margins and strategic initiatives while Victoria waged an internal battle against increasingly inappropriate thoughts. She forced herself to participate in the discussion, to ask relevant questions and provide the kind of decisive leadership her team expected.
However, underneath the professional façade, her body was betraying her with responses she'd never experienced before. James was changing her. Awakening things she didn't know existed.
No, it was deeper than that. He made her feel... raw. Alive. As though he saw something under her skin, touched places no one else thought to reach. She could barely handle the sensation of her own clothing against her skin now, the fabric too rough, her nipples too sensitive. Her body was starting to respond to him, even in absence.
And that terrified her.
Her skin felt hypersensitive beneath her tailored suit, every piece of fabric seeming more noticeable than usual. The air conditioning that normally kept the conference room at a perfectly comfortable temperature felt insufficient, leaving her warm and restless.
What is wrong with me? Victoria wondered desperately. I've been attracted to men before. I've wanted people before. This shouldn't feel so... overwhelming.
But even as she tried to rationalize her responses, Victoria knew this was different. The men in her past had been pleasant diversions, brief relationships that satisfied certain needs without fundamentally altering her sense of self. They'd been additions to her life rather than disruptions of it.
James was disrupting everything.
He was making her question assumptions about her own nature, revealing depths of want and possessiveness that felt foreign and thrilling and terrifying all at once. Victoria had built her identity around control and competence, around her ability to remain composed under pressure and focused on long-term objectives.
But James made her want to abandon strategy in favor of impulse, to claim and possess without concern for consequences or propriety.
The memory of his skin beneath her tongue that Friday night at the anniversary party triggered her with regret. She licked her lips absently, the salty tang of his skin, the smoothness and indented lines. When her arms had snuggled his trimmed waist, when she'd felt the sheer heat of his chest pressed against her. She should have ripped that damn shirt open. Should have run her hands down his chest, kissed him where it counted. And discovered the tentative hardness keeping her awake all night out of curiosity that lay beneath James's shirt.
But she didn't.
And now it haunted her.
I should have pushed harder, Victoria thought, her hands clenching into fists beneath the conference table. Should have ignored his protests and taken what I wanted.
But even as the thought crossed her mind, Victoria knew it was wrong. James's insistence on being courted properly wasn't just some arbitrary obstacle to overcome, it was a reflection of his own worth, his recognition that he deserved better than to be claimed without consideration for his feelings or preferences.
The realization should have been sobering, a reminder to approach their developing relationship with more patience and care. Instead, it only intensified Victoria's attraction to him. James knew his own value, demanded to be treated with respect and genuine affection rather than just desire.
He's making me better, Victoria realized with startling clarity. Making me consider what he needs instead of just taking what I want.
The insight was as unsettling as it was accurate. Victoria had spent her adult life in relationships where her wealth and status meant she held most of the power, where partners were more interested in what she could provide than in who she was beneath the executive façade.
But James already had professional success, already commanded respect in his own right. He didn't need anything from her except genuine interest and emotional investment, things Victoria had rarely been asked to provide.
"I think that covers the major agenda items," Michael was saying, and Victoria realized with surprise that the meeting was drawing to a close. Somehow, despite her scattered attention and inappropriate fantasies, she'd managed to participate effectively in the business discussion.
Compartmentalization really is possible, she thought with grim satisfaction. At least professionally.