The other executives began gathering their materials, preparing to return to their respective departments and the tasks that would occupy the rest of their Monday morning. Victoria watched James organize his notes with the same precise efficiency he brought to everything, his movements economical and purposeful.
Soon, she told herself. Soon you'll have him completely, and this torture will end.
But even as she tried to comfort herself with the promise of eventual satisfaction, Victoria suspected that having James would only intensify rather than resolve the chaos he'd introduced to her carefully ordered world.
"Thank you, James," she said as he prepared to leave the conference room, her voice carrying professional appreciation that masked the deeper gratitude she felt for his competent contribution to the meeting.
"Of course," James replied, his tone equally professional despite the brief moment when their eyes met across the conference table.
Victoria saw acknowledgment there, recognition of the morning's earlier interaction and the promise of whatever would come next in their carefully negotiated courtship. The knowledge that he was thinking about her, planning for their next encounter, sent heat spiraling through her system all over again.
And then he was gone, walking out of the conference room with the other executives, leaving Victoria alone with the lingering scent of his cologne and the memory of silk ties and possessive touches.
She waited until the room was completely empty before allowing herself to collapse back in her executive chair, the careful composure she'd maintained for the past hour finally cracking under the weight of accumulated tension.
Victoria's hands moved to her hair, loosening the sleek ponytail that suddenly felt too tight against her skull. The professional armor she wore each day, the tailored suits and perfect makeup and controlled expressions felt suffocating in ways they never had before.
She opened up the buttons of her suit dress, letting it fall across the back of her chair as she tried to find relief from the heat that seemed to be radiating from her core. Her nipples tightened against the silk of her brassiere, and she gasped. It was too much. Too sharp. Even her own breath made her shiver. The silk inner she wore underneath felt cool against her overheated skin, but it wasn't enough to ease the restless energy that had taken up residence in her body.
This is what he's done to me, Victoria thought, pressing her palms against her closed eyes. Three years of professional interaction, and now I can barely sit through a meeting without fantasizing about his hands.
The memory of touching James that morning played on repeat in her mind, the warmth of his skin, the way his muscles had tensed beneath her exploration, the goosebumps that had erupted along his forearms in response to her deliberate caresses.
She'd wanted so much more. Had wanted to push him back against his desk and explore every inch of him with the same possessive thoroughness. Had wanted to see if the rest of his body was as perfectly formed as the parts she'd been allowed to touch.
She slid a hand down her sternum, over the flat plane of her stomach. Just to breathe. Just to find calm. However, the touch only made her more aware of herself, her body, her need, her hunger. James had unlocked something. No, roused something. This wasn't just simple attraction. This was an avalanche.
Her eyes fluttered closed. She tilted her head back again. Behind her lids, she could see it. James approaching her in this very office, voice low, gaze dark with desire.
He'd look sinful. All tailored sharpness and casual allure. He'd be different, wouldn't he?
He'd pin her with a confident smirk, murmur how much he wanted her, how long he'd wanted her. Then he'd reach for her, slowly, deliberately.
Much like Friday night, just his thumb brushing her bottom lip...that alone did make her moan.
Her lip tingled at the thought.
She'd never known lips could feel so… hot. So swollen with anticipation.
And then he'd trail a hand up the side of her cheek. Gentle, reverent. And she'd melt. Her knees had gone soft. He'd smile at that.
Then the back of her neck. Right where her hair began. Where no man had ever touched her and made her feel something. But James, he'd rake his fingers through the soft strands, her scalp tingled, slow and possessive. Even that felt erotic.
Her stomach clenched.
Victoria sat upright, exhaling shakily.
He was going to ruin her.
But it wasn't ruin, was it? It was freedom, this strange, maddening desire to surrender. To abandon the Victoria Sharp everyone else knew, the one in control, the fortress, the perfection.
He made her want to unravel.
And worst of all?
She wanted him to be the one to do it.
Wooing, Victoria mused, the word still feeling foreign on her tongue. When was the last time I wooed anyone?
The answer was simple: never. Victoria had always been the one being pursued, the prize to be won rather than the suitor making the effort. Men had courted her with expensive gifts and elaborate gestures, had competed for her attention and approval.
But James had flipped the script entirely, had made himself the prize and challenged her to prove she was worthy of winning him.
The role reversal should have been insulting, a challenge to her pride and status. Instead, Victoria found it thrilling in ways she couldn't fully explain. There was something intoxicating about pursuing rather than being pursued, about having to earn rather than simply receive.
He's awakening parts of me I didn't know existed, Victoria realized, her hands falling away from her face to rest on the conference table. Making me feel things I've never felt before.
The physical responses were the most obvious, the way her pulse raced when he was near, the unfamiliar sensitivity that made ordinary sensations feel loaded with meaning. But the emotional changes were even more profound.
Victoria had always prided herself on her independence, her ability to remain detached and strategic in all her relationships. But James made her want to abandon strategy in favor of impulse, to claim and possess and protect with an intensity that was both thrilling and terrifying.
This is what people mean when they talk about chemistry, she thought with sudden understanding. This overwhelming want that makes everything else feel secondary.
Victoria had always been skeptical of such descriptions, had assumed they were exaggerations or romanticizations of ordinary attraction. But now, sitting alone in the conference room with her body humming with unresolved desire, she understood why people made foolish decisions in the name of love.
James was making her want to be foolish, to abandon the careful control that had governed her life in favor of whatever this electric connection between them might become.
The realization should have been frightening. Instead, Victoria found herself smiling for the first time since the meeting had ended.
Soon, she promised herself again. Soon I'll show James Mitchell exactly how thoroughly Victoria Sharp can woo a man when she sets her mind to it.
But first, she had to figure out exactly what wooing meant in the context of a relationship where she held all the traditional power but none of the emotional leverage.
The challenge was daunting and thrilling in equal measure, a strategic puzzle that would require all her intelligence and creativity to solve.
Victoria straightened in her chair, pulling her suit dress back on and smoothing her hair into its professional arrangement. She had work to do both the ordinary business of running a company and the much more interesting task of planning her next move in the careful seduction of James Mitchell.
Game on, she thought with satisfaction, her executive composure sliding back into place like armor.
But underneath the professional façade, her pulse continued to race with anticipation and barely restrained desire, a constant reminder that James had awakened something in her that would not be easily satisfied.
The hunt was on.