Before Lilly could react, Mark seized her by the waist and spun her, pressing her front against the cold surface of his desk. Papers scattered beneath her palms, the wood biting into her thighs as he pinned her with his body, his presence overwhelming. Her breath caught in her throat, half from shock, half from the flood of heat that surged through her at his sudden roughness.
Her skirt rode up easily under his grip, fabric gathered in his fist as he pushed it higher, baring the curve of her thighs. The sharp edge of the desk pressed against her hipbones, grounding her even as her pulse threatened to rip through her skin.
"Hold still," he ordered, his voice low, gravelly, brushing over the back of her neck like a warning and a promise in one.
Her fingers curled into the desk's edge, knuckles blanching as she fought for air. But when his hand slid between her thighs, firm and unrelenting, every thought scattered. He stroked her unhurriedly, through the thin lace barrier, testing, teasing, forcing her body to betray her. She trembled, gasped, pressed her forehead to the wood.
"Already wet, huh?" he murmured, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. His thumb pressed against her, just enough pressure to make her knees weaken, "You burn so quickly for me, Miss Levine."
Lilly's cheeks flamed, her body arching back against him, though shame and panic tangled inside her chest. She couldn't stop herself, couldn't hide how desperately she responded to his touch.
Mark's mouth was suddenly at her ear, his breath hot, his teeth grazing the shell of it, "Do you know how dangerous it is," he whispered, his fingers sliding under the lace now, "to hand yourself over to a man like me?"
Her answer was lost in a strangled moan as his fingers slipped against her slickness, stroking with merciless precision. Her thighs clamped around his hand instinctively, but he only chuckled darkly, forcing them apart again.
Her body was pinned against the desk, her limbs spread beneath his control, trembling as though every ounce of strength had been stripped away. In that moment, she wasn't just beneath him; she was his, completely and without question.
He moved faster, deeper, until her body shook with the intensity of it. Lilly clawed at the desk, trying to hold back the inevitable, but his free hand flattened against her stomach, keeping her arched exactly where he wanted her.
Her cries grew softer, breathier, filling the air with the raw sound of surrender. The world narrowed to just him, his touch, his control.
And then, just as the wave inside her began to crest, threatening to consume her, voices echoed from the hallway.
A woman's voice, sharp and commanding, "Where is he?"
A man's voice answered respectfully, "In his office, ma'am. I'll escort you."
Mark froze. His hand stilled between her bare thighs, leaving her suspended on the razor's edge. Lilly's eyes flew open, her body quivering with a maddening mix of frustration and fear, every nerve strung tight as she struggled to breathe.
In one seamless motion, he withdrew to adjusting his tie with the same precision he might use in a boardroom, then smoothed her skirt back into place. The shift was terrifying in its ease. His composure was so immaculate it was as if his hands hadn't been inside her moments ago, as though her trembling body were the only evidence of what had just happened.
Lilly scrambled to copy him, breathless, tugging at her blouse, smoothing her hair. Her body screamed from the unfinished fire still burning inside her, but panic flooded her veins now.
The office door swung open without a knock.
An elegant woman stepped inside, her presence filling the room instantly. And behind her, one of the Bergen Global security men lingered, silent as a shadow.
The woman's eyes flicked across the room, lingering on Mark, brushing briefly over Lilly before settling on the man behind the desk.