Nolan's kiss left Miranda breathless, her entire body humming with an unfamiliar electricity. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming that it shattered everything she thought she knew about physical attraction. This—this wild, consuming fire—was what had been missing from her relationship with Ryan.
"Is this normal?" she whispered against Nolan's lips, her voice trembling. "To feel like I'm burning from the inside out?"
Nolan pulled back slightly, his steel-gray eyes darkened with desire but still sharp with awareness. "Miranda, you're drunk."
"Not too drunk to know what I want," she countered, her fingers still clutching his tie like a lifeline. "Show me. Please. Show me what it's supposed to feel like."
He studied her face, his expression a mixture of hunger and restraint. "You might regret this tomorrow."
Miranda let out a soft, desperate laugh. "I've spent years regretting what I never felt. Tonight, I want to feel everything."
Nolan's jaw tightened as he deliberated, clearly torn between desire and responsibility. Miranda could see the exact moment his control began to fracture. But still, he hesitated.
"I need your explicit consent," he said, his voice rough with barely contained need. "I won't take advantage of you."
Without breaking eye contact, Miranda reached for his leather desk pad and pen. In bold, clear handwriting that belied her intoxication, she wrote:
I, Miranda Holden, being of sound mind despite the scotch, give Nolan Shelton permission to do whatever he wants with me tonight.
She signed it with a flourish and pushed it toward him.
"Explicit enough for you?"
Nolan's eyes darkened further as he read her words. "Are you absolutely certain?"
"Yes," Miranda whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs like a caged bird. "I've never been more certain of anything."
Something shifted in Nolan's demeanor—the last thread of his restraint snapping. His posture straightened, his shoulders squaring as he moved away from the desk. When he spoke again, his voice held a commanding edge that sent shivers racing down her spine.
"Kneel."
Miranda blinked, momentarily startled by the transformation. Gone was her controlled, professional boss. In his place stood a man accustomed to dominance, to being obeyed without question. The request should have offended her independent spirit, but instead, it ignited something primal within her.
Without a word, she slid from the desk and lowered herself to her knees before him, her eyes never leaving his.
Nolan circled her slowly, like a predator assessing its prey. When he stood behind her, his fingers brushed against the tight bun at the nape of her neck. "I've always wondered about your hair," he murmured, removing the pins one by one. "How long it really is when it's not restrained."
Miranda remained still as her blonde waves cascaded down her back, finally free. Nolan made a sound of appreciation as he ran his fingers through the silky strands.
"Beautiful," he breathed, gathering her hair in his fist. "Just as I imagined."
The gentle tug on her scalp sent unexpected pleasure coursing through her veins. Miranda's eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting on a silent gasp.
Nolan moved to stand before her again, his expression intense. "Take off your jacket."
With trembling fingers, Miranda complied, shrugging out of her tailored blazer to reveal the thin silk camisole beneath. Her nipples hardened visibly against the delicate fabric, a response to both the cool air and his burning gaze.
"No bra," Nolan observed, his voice dropping an octave. "Have you been like this all day, Miss Holden? Working just a few feet away from me, practically naked under your prim little suit?"
Miranda's cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and arousal. "I—I didn't think—"
"Clearly," he interrupted, trailing one finger along her collarbone, then lower, tracing the outline of her breast through the silk. "Do you have any idea what the sight of you like this does to me?"
Miranda couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to concentrate wherever his finger touched.
"Answer me," Nolan commanded softly.
"No," she managed, her voice barely audible.
"It makes me want to ruin you," he confessed, cupping her breast fully now, his thumb brushing over her nipple. "It makes me want to hear you scream my name until your voice gives out."
Miranda whimpered, her body responding to his words as much as his touch.
"Is this what you wanted, Miranda?" he asked, his free hand tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "To be completely at my mercy?"
"Yes," she admitted, the word catching in her throat.
Nolan's smile was darkly satisfied. "Good girl," he praised, the endearment sending another jolt of pleasure through her. His hand moved from her breast to her throat, not squeezing but resting there possessively, a reminder of his control. "Now be a good girl and undo my pants."
Miranda's fingers trembled as she reached for his belt, her entire world narrowing to this moment, to this man, to the desperate need building inside her that only he could satisfy.