15 Steamy Romance Novels Box Set for Adult Women: Forbidden Older Man Younger Woman Age Gap Romance

By Sophia Haywood

AN EPIC COLLECTION. Over 1,500 pages!
15 Heart-swooning, heat-raising novels.
Plus 2 Bonus Novels
This steamy collection of romance novels includes hot doctors who love to share their property, reverse harem, dark bullies, fake fiances, possessive alphas, instalove, grumpy, dominant bosses who love to be in control & so much more …
Download now and get immersed in these endless pages of scorching romance.
Guaranteed to satisfy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Swoon Books Llc
• Release date: Mar 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9791222085388

Book preview

Lessons Learned

Contents

Chapter 1: Lacy

Chapter 2: Alexander

Chapter 3: Lacy

Chapter 4: Alexander

Chapter 5: Lacy

Chapter 6: Alexander

Chapter 7: Lacy

Chapter 8: Alexander

Chapter 9: Lacy

Chapter 11: Lacy

Chapter 12: Alexander

Chapter 13: Lacy

Chapter 14: Alex

Chapter 15: Lacy

Chapter 16: Alexander

Chapter 17: Lacy

Epilogue: Alex

Chapter 1: Lacy

Ialready feel the pressure of today weighing on me. A huge meeting that can determine the fate of the company isn’t something to take lightly. I finish reviewing the notes that Alexander left for me to add to in preparation for the negotiations. I shake my head and mentally correct myself. No. Not Alexander. When I’m at my desk, I’m only allowed to call him Mr. Clay. When I’m at my desk, he’s my boss and only my boss. Another deep breath.

Get control, Lacy, I tell myself.

I know that the meeting today is too important to let things like that slip. Mr. Clay needs this app developer to further no less than three of his partnerships. This deal isn’t the type of thing that comes around every day and it’s been months in the making. He’ll do worse than beat me if we lose the agreement because of some fact or note I’ve missed.

Mr. Clay takes nothing as seriously as the company he’s poured himself into.

My phone beeps and the red light flashing tells me exactly who it is. Only Mr. Clay gets that extra bit of notification. I clear my throat, put on my customer service smile and answer the phone. Good morning, Mr. Clay.

Lacy, I need to see you in my office. His voice is stern and serious.

I hate that it sends chills through my body. Professionalism, Lacy, I remind myself.  I bite my lip and glance over to his closed office door before swallowing. Would you like me to bring anything?

Yourself. Now. His voice drops lower, taking on the authoritative dominant tone that shatters any illusion of this being a business affair.

I hang up the phone and stand, brushing my hand over my mid-thigh length pencil skirt and double checking my silk blouse. The five-inch heels I wear are just for Alexander, while the rest of the outfit fits the dress code that Mr. Clay insists on. I like toeing the line between brat and good secretary. Professionalism with a tease of more – a tease that only Alexander recognizes.

I’ve had to learn to tell the sides of the man apart. And right now, I know I’m walking in to see Alexander – my dom of one year. The man that knows just how to play my body so I need him, want him, and hate him all at once.

The same man that is a consistent fan of having fun at work despite insisting on maintaining boundaries. The man that is slightly different from the boss who demands perfection each and every moment while continually pushing for more growth. I put a hand on the Mahogany door next to his full name and take a stabilizing breath.

The door opens silently, and I walk in, listening to my heels click on the marble floor. I turn and shut the door, locking it to make sure we’re not interrupted. Swallowing, I turn, feeling my ponytail swish over my shoulder.

Alexander stands just in front of his desk, his arms behind his back, gazing out his huge window. For a second, I remember the first time he called me into his office for something like this. I’d been so nervous; I’d laughed when he told me what he wanted. I’d been so sure it was all business at work that I’d brought a note pad for a coffee order.

So much had changed in the last nine months since we decided to take our fun beyond the bedroom. Now, it feels normal to come into his office for an afternoon or morning delight. And it feels normal to look him over, head to toe and back while picturing every single way he can and will defile me.

My eyes flick to the desk, eager to see what I’m in for before he gets started. He has a bundle of black nylon rope, a crop, and a body wand.

I shiver in anticipation. I’ve either been very bad or very good.

Alexander doesn’t turn around, giving me a moment to ponder. He never punishes me for anything that goes on at work, but I have flirted on more than one occasion while at work ... which is a punishable offense. I ignored three phone calls when I was annoyed with him. I’ve also gotten on Tinder. But he can’t possibly know that last bit.

Still, I force my eyes to linger on the rope. As silly as it is, I feel like considering seeing someone else deserves punishment – whether he knows or not. The guilt bugs me, makes my stomach roll.

I bite my lip and consider telling him today isn’t the day to play.

As many needs as Alexander fulfills ... he made it clear at the beginning that he would never stay exclusive to me and that we would never be more than friends with benefits. It was inescapably clear that he meant every word and I’d jumped at it, willing to say anything to get more than a tease of his touch.

I’ve never regretted the agreement, the nights we’ve spend working late, the times we’ve gone out for dinner to discuss work or check in with each other, or the benefits. And the benefits are excellent, but lately ... lately I’ve craved more than what he’s willing to offer.

I shake my head and refocus. I have time to think about that later. This could possibly be our last office time fuck and I’m not willing to give that up or make the rest of today awkward. Especially when it’s impossible to deny how badly I want Alexander to touch me, mark me, and fuck me.

My face flushes and heat crawls across my skin as I slowly close the distance between us. The way my thighs brush through my silky thigh-highs with each step, each memory of what we’ve done in this office, it all makes me painfully aware of what’s waiting for me when Alexander turns around.

I twirl my finger in the tips of my ponytail, watching my blonde hair as it tries to hold the curl. Once I’m close enough to touch Alexander, I stop. He turns to face me and a soft smile tugs at his lips as he looks me over. His dark brown eyes smolder any lingering hesitation and I feel a familiar excitement buzzing in my skin.

Lacy. He murmurs.

I close some of the distances between us while trying to ignore the significant height difference. It doesn’t matter that I have the extra height of the heels. I’m only 5’4" and he’ll tower over me no matter what shoes I wear.

But even just looking at him makes me forget every other man in the world. His sharp jaw, the way he’s tamed his orange hair, and the hint of a wicked smile on his sinful mouth. The intense crispness of his suit over his broad shoulders and thick arms says he’s all business, but that look on his face shows how wild he really is. All of it makes my mouth water and reminds me of the kind of control he wields. The kind of control he’s about to use to make me obedient.

Your view is better than any other office. I say, eager to break the silence.

The anticipation weighs heavily on me. Not knowing what to expect is a sweet torture and I don’t want to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and be forced to go even longer without his touch.

I bend over slightly, knowing that the motion will drag my skirt up my thighs and give him an excellent view of my red thong. I rub my hands down my legs and wrap my fingers around my ankles. One of his favorite positions.

I glance back at him, just to make sure I didn’t misunderstand the purpose of our meeting. Alexander looks me over, his eyes focusing on my ass. I notice the growing bulge in his pants and bite my lip.

Quite a view. He appraises.

It really is. I agree, looking him over again. But I can think of a few ways to improve it.

Would you like to enlighten me? He asks with a rough edge to his voice, gently tugging at his tie. Or would you prefer to address the ... business at hand?

The glint in his eyes tells me he has plenty planned for us. I see the intensity, the hunger, and the heat barely restrained in his gaze. But rather than acting on it, Alexander continues to watch. His eyebrow cocks up and he leans back against his desk, putting more distance between us. I hate his quiet moods and he knows it. Being denied his attention is the worst kind of punishment he’s found for me, and he uses it liberally.

Even though we’re on the clock, even though we have an hour before his meeting, he’s dragging this out. I’m terrified he’s going to get me started, get me wet and aching, then make me suffer the rest of the work day before he finally lets me come.

Which means I have to push harder to get what I want. I know how the game is played. Facing him, I slowly pop a button on my shirt. I lick across my bottom lip as I pop another button and then stroke over the curve of my breast. I bat my eyelashes at him and take a slow, full breath.

Knock it off. He growls, despite the fact that he’s definitely harder than he was. A slight smile teases his lips. He pushes away from his desk and leans towards me. I’m tired of your teasing, Lacy.

I bite back the urge to tell him to make me behave, and instead, let my hands drop to my sides, my fingers curling into the hem of my skirt in an attempt to behave. Yes, sir.

He nods and takes a step towards me, his fingers slipping under my chin, so I’m forced to meet his eyes. You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?

A little. I hedge.

He arches an eyebrow and I swallow hard before he wraps his hand around my throat. I don’t know whether to moan or whimper. I’ve missed him grabbing me like this. I love how easily he takes control, how he knows exactly how hard to push, how he trusts that I won’t break.

You know you’re not supposed to flirt at work. But right now, you’re going to follow through on each tease.

I feel my lips turn up in a smile. Alexander tightens his hand for a moment, fingers digging in until I’m dizzy. He releases me and steps back. If you want me to touch you at all, you’re going to do exactly as you’re told. Do you understand?

I nod eagerly. Yes, sir.

Take off your clothes. Quick. We don’t have all day.

Being the good girl we both know I can be, I continue popping my shirt buttons, determined to drive him half as crazy as he drives me. I spread the shirt after undoing a button, making sure he can see the inch of skin revealed each time. His eyes follow my hands as I open my shirt, revealing the matching lacy red bra.

I pull my arms out of the sleeves, then toss the shirt at him. It hits his chest and he watches it fall to the floor with a raised eyebrow. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks pissed, but I’ve learned how to read him. His clenched jaw says he’s trying to control himself since dominating me means delayed gratification for him.

One day I’ll to break his control to see what he’s hiding under his super poised exterior. I bet it’s insane. I let my skirt fall to the floor and accept that today is going to be that day. So I turn in a slow circle and let my hair free, welcoming it spills down my back as I undo the clasp of my bra.

I’ll let him keep control today if it means I finally get the ecstasy my body is begging for.

Chapter 2: Alexander

Fuck, Lacy’s gorgeous . And she knows what she does to me. I know that as much as I know she likes to use all of her assets to tease me. As her pale hair fans over her back, I see her dangle the thin excuse of a bra from a finger before she lets it drop to the floor.

She knows what drives me insane and she’s a fucking awful submissive every time we meet up. Always bratty and teasing, as if she thinks I’ll let her have the upper hand because she has an attitude. At first anyway. If she were any other woman, I would have broken her of it a long time ago. But there’s something endearing about how she constantly abuses the leeway I give her without ever breaking a rule fully.

Lacy bends over, pushing out her fucking gorgeous ass as she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her thong. She slowly, tortuously, drags it down and over her ass, around her thighs, until the fabric drops to the floor around her heels.

I look her over, eyes tracing the delicate curves of her legs, her thighs still dressed in those dark thigh-highs, bare pussy and round ass offered up to me, her trim waist, and the glossy curtain of hair hiding the rest of her body from me.

She makes me feel like the luckiest man on the fucking planet. 

I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from reaching out and touching her. I lick across my bottom lip, trying to figure out how I can do everything I want to do in the half hour we have before I need to be put together and fresh-faced.

It’s impossible. I’ll need her again later, I can tell already.

Lacy tosses her hair, then pulls it over her shoulder as she turns back to face me. Her hair curls just under one breast, drawing my attention to her tits. Fucking perfect, slightly bigger than my hands, but pillowy soft and all mine. Her deep green eyes peer up at me as her lush lips part.

It has to be a fucking sin for anyone to be as beautiful as Lacy.

I nod to her, the only approval I’ll give her despite the fact I’m ready to bend her over my desk and fuck her, then go for round two. She has me so hard and so fucking horny I’m half tempted to cancel my meeting to have her for longer. But I don’t want her to know how much she affects me.

I can’t give her that power.

I shake my head of that and go to my desk to look over the options I’ve laid out. Truly, I enjoy her flirting, the way she toes the line, knowing that she wants me so badly she can’t obey the rules, but that she has the control and mindfulness to keep us within H.R. regulation. She’s sexy, smart, and ...

And she needs to be tied up to remind her that she’s mine. I wrap my hand around the rope. She’s been mine for a year, even though this is all there is to it. As long as she looks at me with that fucking challenging gaze, she’s mine.

Alexander?

She’s impatient too. I show her the rope and see her blush. She rubs her thighs together and I know she’s as eager as I am. She walks to me and bites her lip. I’ve been that naughty?

Be happy I’m not using the crop on you today. I remind, even though I remember each fucking sound she makes when I use it. Hell, the only punishment that does anything to actually bother her is when I refuse to touch her, when I refuse to engage at all. Only then does she fall in line.

We don’t have long. She reminds me.

If you behave, you’ll come. I inform, then tap my desk. Get up here on your knees, naughty girl.

She hesitates, staring deep into my eyes. I can practically hear her telling me to take her. I unwind the rope. There are worse punishments than the crop, Lacy. And if you want one, I’m more than happy to-

No. No. She shakes her head and climbs up eagerly, slipping once and correcting it before I can help.

I smile at her eagerness.

She parts her legs slightly, but I can tell she has goosebumps. I’ll behave.

I smack her ass, then smooth my hand over the soft, round cheek, you better mean that.

I pull her arms, one at a time, behind her back, binding them quickly. I’ve done it often enough that I’ve got it down to a science unless she tries to escape. Luckily, my threat has done its work. I wrap the rope around her shoulders, then tie her wrists together and wrap the rope just under her breasts.

Once I have the makeshift harness in place, I grin. You’re gorgeous, Lacy. Remember our little safe word if you need it. Blue

She nods and for a second I admire just how gorgeous she is. Gorgeous in her work clothes, in lingerie, in just rope. I steady her balance, gripping the looser rope around her arms. It tightens across her skin and she groans softly. She shifts and I smack her across the ass. She gasps and whimpers, but pushes her ass out for more like a good girl.

See how good you can be? I rub her ass appreciatively, then slip my fingers between her legs. She’s dripping wet for me already. When’s the last time you touched yourself?

Since before the last time we played. You told me not to. She pants.

I reward her with a soft kiss to the back of her shoulder and she groans. I let a finger slip into her tight pussy and feel her rub herself down on me. Fuck she’s so hot and wet for me. Her pussy squeezes me and I kiss the back of her neck again. I know she’s aching for me. I’ve made her wait despite the looks she’s given me and the late-night texts.

You deserve a reward. I purr against the back of her neck. She shivers and fucks my finger, impatient as always. Tell me what you want.

I want you to fuck me. She turns to look at me, cheeks pink, eyes glassy. Please, sir. Fuck me.

Thank fucking God. I undo my zipper, jerk my boxers down and pull my finger away. Before she has the chance to complain, I slam into her hard and feel her gasp. Fuck, she fits me so perfectly. She’s my own personal heaven. Her pussy squeezes my cock tightly and I groan, but refuse to move. I want to draw it out. I want her to beg. But I can feel my control slipping already.

Lacy whimpers. Please?

Do you deserve my cock?

Yes. I hear the laugh in her voice and continue to hold still, refusing to let her move even an inch. She groans and whimpers. We both know I’m going to fuck her, but I like to keep her in line. I deserve your cock.

Good girl. I reward her by fucking her hard and deep, keeping the pace slow.

I know Lacy needs me fast and wild, just like I know she’s going to try to hold out because I haven’t given her permission to come. I have to admit, I love watching her try to control herself. I tighten the rope across her body and slide my hand over her tit, squeezing her nipple and rolling it between my fingers.

Her heels threaten my thighs with each thrust, but I don’t care. I need her. Just like this. I stop thrusting all together and watch her struggle to make me. Fucking hell, Alex!

I smack her ass hard, five times in a row until she’s whimpering and her skin has my handprint on display in red. She knows better than to use my name when I’m fucking her, especially without permission. She gasps and whimpers.

Sir!

My hand hesitates, then I soften it over her ass. Now that you’ve been extra naughty, you have to make yourself come. I glance at the clock. And you only have ten minutes. You better get to work, Lacy.

She pauses, probably making sure she’s hearing me right and I slap her ass again. Make us come!

Lacy rolls her hips, making me groan. When she doesn’t receive a smack for it, she does it again, then she’s fucking me hard and fast, using my cock like she needs. Each gasp and moan is mine, just like each mark on her body says she belongs to me.

I lean forward and bite her shoulder, savoring the fact that her pussy tightens around my cock as I mark her up. She rolls her ass as she bounces on my cock. Fuck, she feels so good, so hot, so wet. There’s no way I’m going to last much longer with her using me to get off and filling the office with her moans.

Come, my good slut. I order.

She whimpers and her body trembles but she still holds out on me. I knot my fingers in her hair and pull back. I need her to come first. I need to hear her come for me.

You come hard. And you come now, or you don’t fucking come at all. I manage to growl out.

All at once, her body tightens and she comes. Her moans turn to curses and she pants as her body spasms. She continues grinding on me as I take over, fucking her hard and deep and fast. I squeeze her nipple, kiss the bite mark I know is only going to get darker with time. She comes again and this time she takes me with her.

Fuck, Lacy! I nearly yell as I finish deep inside her.

She trembles against me, her body still trying to fuck me despite her obvious exhaustion. I kiss across her shoulders and press my forehead against her slick back. We’ve only fucked for twenty minutes but I feel more satisfied than I have in days. More at peace with the world and far happier than I have any right to be.

Hold still while I untie you, please. I murmur.

I wish we had the time for me to untie her slowly, to kiss each mark, to let her have the aftercare I know she values. I like fucking Lacy hard, punishing her, losing control with her. But I know being this rough isn’t always easy.

I free her of the ropes, and pull her close to me. I press a soft kiss to her mouth. We agreed early on we don’t kiss on the mouth more than once per session and only because of the way Lacy looked at me after our second time together when I didn’t kiss her at all.

I prefer things to be clear cut: sex is straightforward, kissing is emotion. I avoid mixing the two.

I help her get dressed and smile as I tug her towards me by her skirt. She giggles and braces herself against my chest before cooling her expression into the professional secretary I value.

Is there anything else you need, Mr. Clay?

I smirk as she finishes buttoning my shirt. No, Miss Larson. You’ve seen to my concerns. Please be ready for the meeting with Mr. Daniels.

Yes, sir.

I smack her ass and point at her and she bites her lip before correcting. Yes, Mr. Clay.

Excellent. That will be all.

She heads out the door without looking back. I blink a few times, staring after her. When did she stop looking back over her shoulder when we were done? Since when did she accept one kiss without pushing for more? And why the fuck does it bother me?

I swallow and try to shake off the feeling that I’m losing the best brat I’ve ever had.

I just need to talk to her outside of work. Maybe order dinner after I fuck her again tonight, since I definitely plan on fucking her again. I haven’t punished her nearly enough. But I have a too much to do between now and five o’clock. Which means there’s no point in worrying about it now. I clear my throat, clean up, and prepare for the meeting of the century.

Chapter 3: Lacy

After a quick dip into the bathroom to fix my makeup and hair, I return to my desk. Fifteen minutes until the meeting and I’m sure that my folder is well organized, complete, and easy to navigate. There won’t be any problem from me in the meeting.

I even made a second copy that highlights the major points of the argument and negotiations that Mr. Clay has been preparing so that way he has it in case he forgets his place. I check all the paperwork, then sit down to see if there are any immediate emails I need to worry about.

I bite my lip to avoid yipping as I feel the sting of the spanking I just took. I hate it but love it considering it hurts like crazy, but makes me think of Alexander’s hands on me. I close my eyes a moment, trying to cool the still simmering heat in my belly.

You can’t have him, Lacy.

It’s only the hundred and fiftieth time I’ve reminded myself of that. Not that I dislike what we have ... it’s just I get greedy for Alexander. The last thing I want to think about is him enjoying another woman like he enjoys me – or worse. Playing house, doting on ... kissing another woman. Even if that’s what I’ve agreed to.

I still remember that night. I’d had a crush on Mr. Clay since I was hired, but that night, working late on an acquisition, something changed between us. I’d felt a charge of sorts.

Alexander had slid his hand over my knee while looking over the paperwork in front of me. When I’d spread my legs a little further, eager to give him more access, he looked over at me and arched an eyebrow.

I bit my lip and blushed. Sorry.

Are you? He asked.

It should have been innocent, but the way his eyes burned me, the way he leaned forward, his hand sliding further up my thigh, all of it was dangerous and tantalizing. Alexander leaned forward, his nose nearly brushing mine.

You’re witty, sharp as a tack, and gorgeous, Lacy. He’d whispered. How are you not rushing home to your partner?

Don’t tease me. I’d nearly pulled away, but Alexander’s hand had tightened on my thigh, making me still. Mr. Clay, this isn’t professional.

Would you like me to be professional? I’ll swallow every comment on my tongue right now. He promised. I’ll only be the boss.

Instead, I’d leaned towards him, determined to push his buttons and find out what would happen if we pushed forward. And if I said no?

Then I’d tell you that I fantasize about punishing you for your sass at least once a week. I’d tell you that it’s a damn good thing you’re so focused at work that you haven’t noticed me staring at your ass anytime you wear heels. And I’d tell you that the only thing sexier than the pencil skirts you wear is your sarcasm in the office.

What the hell was a woman supposed to say to that? I don’t remember saying anything, but I remember Alexander using his other hand to catch my chin and hold me just a millimeter away from his lips.

I’ll be up front. I don’t do relationships, Lacy. If that’s what you want, we’re not doing this. We can have sex regularly, we'll have fun, we’ll be a secret, and that’s all you get. Tell me now. Yes, or no?

I’d felt how hard he was against my knee based on how we were sitting. The lingering hint of bourbon on his breath and his cologne had fogged my mind. His warm hands, the hunger in his eyes. There had only been one answer because in that moment I’d realized I’d been starving for him.

Blinking myself free from the memory, I lock my computer and take a deep breath.

I look up and see Mr. Clay straighten his tie as he leaves his office. He treats me to a wink and a wicked smile as he approaches my desk. I like the playful side to him that I’ve seen when he’s taken me out to dinner or asked me to be his date to events just to keep the money hungry women away. But that’s an Alexander that isn’t mine.

Are you ready?

Yes, Mr. Clay. The meeting will go smoothly. Conference room 2.

He taps my desk twice and glances at my shirt quickly. His eyes snag and sharpen. Do up that button.

I glance down, confused. There’s no cleavage on display. Mr. Clay, I’m perfectly within-

He leans closer to me, closer than he’s dared to get to me within the office when we’re not behind closed doors. I immediately shut my mouth as his dark eyes scorch me. One of his palms rests on the calendar on my desk, only an inch from my wrist.

I don’t make a habit of repeating myself, Miss Larson.

I swallow the frustration and indignation in my throat. Talking to me like that is one thing when we’re playing, but it’s another at work. He nods to me as I do up the button and then he heads to the conference room while I work on cooling my embarrassed blush.

My eyes sting as I blink away the unwelcome shame that has washed over me. Just as I’m getting myself together, I notice a group of men come in. One single woman is beside the man in the back, talking quickly while she consults her notes.

She’s gorgeous. Her midnight hair, dark almond eyes, and proper pantsuit makes me envious. She looks like a woman who has control. I’m so busy looking at her, I almost miss the man. The man next to her that pauses at my desk, for just half a second.

Our eyes meet and I’m transported to the ocean. His eyes are beautifully blue, glittering, happy, and disarming as hell. I can’t believe how open and welcoming he seems. He smiles. Hello.

Sir? The woman asks, then stops with him.

Hello. You must be Mr. Daniels. I assume, standing and adjusting my folder against my chest. I offer him my hand while trying to cool the sudden urge to giggle from his smile alone.

His hand engulfs mine and he squeezes gently. Please call me Sebastian. I’m guessing I’m not lucky enough that you’re Mr. Clay.

I laugh softly. No, I’m sorry to disappoint.

You are definitely not a disappointment. He assures with a smile that has clearly broken hearts in the past.

I laugh and take my hand back. I’m Lacy Larson, Mr. Clay’s assistant. I’ll lead you to the conference room we’ll be using today.

Very nice to meet you, Lacy. Any tips you can give me before this starts?

Be direct and straightforward. I advise, then lean towards him. Is it bias of me to advise taking the first deal offered?

Very, but you get points for loyalty. He winks at me. Please, lead the way.

He motions for me to go ahead, and I walk with all the confidence I possess. I lead the group into the room where Mr. Clay is waiting with his own team. Glancing back, I notice that Sebastian is looking me over with no shame. He winks at me, and I bite my lip in response.

My whole body feels warm, and I feel like I’m in high school again, being noticed by a crush for the first time. I clear my throat and motion to the half of the table across from Sebastian’s team as I linger by the door. I’m used to standing in the back – heels or no heels – and taking notes, but I notice a seat next to Mr. Clay has been left open.

Miss Larson. Mr. Clay says it softly, but considering how silent the room is, it feels like he’s practically yelling.

I sit beside him obediently, not willing to address the shame still rolling in me. I focus on the folder and not at the eyes on me. The meeting continues. It’s like fast paced ping pong. One wrong move, no matter how small will throw the dominance.

Most men crumble in front of Mr. Clay. It’s a pleasure to watch him win at these debates and get his opponent to give up more than they wanted to. It’s almost a turn on to watch him dominate someone else and take them down.

But Mr. Daniels holds his own. He has an answer for each question, and nothing seems to surprise him or fully remove the peace from his eyes. He treats what is normally a pissing contest like a friendly game of chess. And something about that is more attention grabbing than the fact that Mr. Clay is sitting next to me, his knee nearly brushing mine.

On more than one occasion, I swear I feel Mr. Daniels’ eyes on me, but I assume he’s actually watching Mr. Clay. I’m nowhere near as interesting as the deal in front of him or the woman beside him. I only take notes and flip the pages in my folder, never speaking up.

The hour drags into two and by the time Mr. Clay finally starts talking money, I’m ready to fall asleep. Mr. Daniels hasn’t crumbled and I’m tired of all the fancy wording and circular arguments. My stomach growls, disrupting the silence that follows his proposal and Mr. Clay’s knuckles brush along the outside of my knee before his fingers brush along the inside of my thigh.

I jump and clear my throat, but see Mr. Daniels watching me as well. Unmistakably this time, which makes me go red. Something about powerful, domineering men just ... ugh. I tuck a lose strand of hair behind my ear and take a steadying breath, just about ready to apologize for my stomach when Mr. Daniels agrees to the offer hanging in the air.

No haggling. No more bartering.

He rubs the light beard on his jaw and smiles at me even as the woman growls something into his ear. He waves her away. This isn’t an opportunity I take lightly and the agreement is fair. Mr. Clay, might I suggest we all go to dinner? I’m sure I’m not the only hungry one.

Very well. I need to bring some things to our finance department for approval and I will meet you at whatever restaurant you choose. Miss Larson will accompany you. Please let her know if you have any requests.

Just like that, everyone stands. The men shake hands and Mr. Clay holds me back a moment once the room clears. The windows allow the waiting group to watch, which explains why he doesn’t crowd me.

He looks like he wants to say something, but then clears his throat and brushes his hand through his hair. Thank you for the notes in the file. They were helpful.

I blink at him a few times. Mr. Clay doesn’t compliment anyone for doing their job. I blink a few times and nod. You’re welcome, Mr. Clay. I’ll see to our guests.

Let me know if he tries anything. Mr. Clay says with a sharpness back in his eyes. There are things you don’t have to tolerate.

Of course, sir.

I know I go pale as soon as I say it, but he smiles gently. And you’re mine after dinner. I don’t think I’m quite done with you, Lacy.

I nod, then try to bite back my excitement as I answer questions about restaurant options and head to the stairs – since of course today the elevator is broken. All I can think about is getting out of the office before Alexander’s mood shifts again.

Chapter 4: Alexander

Taking a slow breath in my office should calm me down, but something just feels ... off. I don’t know what it is. I was fine while fucking Lacy. I was fine while untying her. Then something changed and I acted like a fucking cave man, telling her to button up her shirt just because I wanted more of her to myself.

The look in her eyes made me regret my words. The shame there. Not to mention her continued silence, the lack of smiles, and the way she looked actually afraid of me as the meeting ended ... I hate it. I’m usually full of nervous energy before meetings, but this restlessness is something else. It’s more than stress. Things seem to be going too well which makes me paranoid and I swear I’m looking for issues.

Which made it all the worse when I noticed my now business partner watch what’s mine with a look that said he can get it whenever he wants. I recognized the hunger in his eyes – the same eyes that kept flicking to Lacy when he should have been focused on our conversation.

It’s not my nature to want to claim a woman as my own, especially not in front of others, but I could hardly resist touching her despite the associates and partners around us in the conference room.

Staring at the folder I’m supposed to take to finance, I digest that thought. Maybe I should wait and bring this to finance tomorrow after the legal team has time to review it. That’s reasonable. And if it just happens to get me to the restaurant faster, all the better. Much better.

I head towards the stairs and outside, seeing if I can manage to catch the group as they head to dinner rather than meeting them there. Instead, I see my new business partner, holding my woman in a way I can’t ignore. My temper flares immediately.

The look on Lacy’s face says she’s in a hell of a lot of pain. Her eyes are watery, her bottom lip is being crushed between her teeth, and her face is pale. I take a few steps over and the asshole has the nerve to pick her up and set her on the hood of the car as his friends watch from the limo.

Lacy reaches for her ankle and then I see it. I see the broken heel, the horrible, purpled skin, and the swelling. Fuck. Mr. Daniels cups her ankle softly and for one small second, I wish I would have tied her ankles to her thighs so he’d see my marks on her.

Lacy, are you okay? He asks.

Using her first name too?

I’m sure it’s just twisted. I’ll be fine. She assures, despite her quivering lip.

This isn’t how I meant to sweep you off your feet. He chuckles.

She smiles slightly, but tries to stand which results in a half gasp – half whimper. The flirting comes to an abrupt halt and Mr. Daniels pushes her back, trying to keep her in place so she won’t stand.

No. You shouldn’t walk on it. Perhaps we should call ... His eyes find me and he nods in my direction despite the fact he moves closer to her. Ah, Mr. Clay. Lacy here is injured, do you have a policy on this?

I do. I manage to say from between my teeth. If he wasn’t flirting with her, I might appreciate his dedication to making sure she takes care of herself.

It’s after hours. Lacy says to me. On public property. I’m fine. Mr. Daniels still holds her calf in his hand. She doesn’t seem to mind. She puts on a smile. Really, Sebastian. It’s okay. It just needs some ice.

He obviously hesitates, then he nods. It’s your body. You know best. Here ... he fishes around for something in his jacket, then hands her a piece of paper. "Call me if you need anything. If I hadn’t distracted you-"

Heels break all the time. She says, but I catch the blush and see that their fingers brush when she accepts his card.

She slides off the car and braces herself against his chest. Her lips part as their eyes meet and I notice his hand stroke down her back. Then Sebastian hands her the two shoes, one of which is broken beyond repair. Shame. It’s her favorite pair to wear to work. The only pair that doesn’t hurt her feet after a few hours.

I don’t know where that thought came from. I don’t know why I know that. My mind is running off with me today, apparently.

I clear my throat as Sebastian lets her go. Mr. Clay, I’m assuming you’d still like to celebrate for dinner. Perhaps we should head to the sushi restaurant Lacy recommended.

I nod. I’ll meet you there.

Lacy stumbles and he and I both reach for her. I manage to wrap my arms around her first and help support her weight. It’s fucking childish that having her in my arms makes me feel like I’ve won something. Especially considering Sebastian actually looks worried for her rather than upset that he’s not touching her.

His eyes flick to her ankle. I can help-

Not at all. You’re my guest. I assure with a smile, my arm tightening around Lacy. I’ll meet you at the restaurant, once Miss Larson is taken care of.

Sebastian takes a look at us, then nods and smiles at me. I advise Lacy to lean on me and walk her to the parking garage before picking her up once I’m sure we’re out of sight. She gasps and wraps her arms tightly around me. I’ve carried her over my shoulder and carried her with her legs around my waist, but this worries her?

Tell me honestly how it feels. I ask.

It’s a seven on the pain scale. She whispers, teeth digging into her bottom lip.

A tear manages to roll over her cheek. I’ve pushed her limits, bruised her, beaten her until she was shaking, but I’ve never seen her cry. I’m not sure what to say to her. The last thing I want is to watch her cry, but I haven’t tried to comfort anyone in years. And what can my words do when she’s in physical pain?

Her lips tremble and she looks away as the silence stretches between us. I’m not a child, you don’t need to carry me.

I’m going to. I say anyway. And after this very quick dinner, you are going to let me into your apartment.

Her eyes flick to me and she shakes her head. I’m not in the mood and we don’t do my place.

I’m well aware. I snip.

We’ve never had sex in either of our homes. She knows my apartment, the one I go to when I still have work to do. The one that’s sound proofed and only ten minutes from the office. I’ve never been to her place. She hasn’t been to my actual home – the one outside the city, backed onto a lake. 

I wonder if she’d like it.

I’m going to make sure your ankle doesn’t get worse. I say, trying to salvage some kind of professionalism.

That’s not in the job description.

It’s happening anyway. Why does everything have to be a fucking battle with her?

Alexander. Her voice is a warning.

Setting her down at her car, I arch an eyebrow. Lacy.

"It is my home. You need my permission to come in."

I’m not a fucking vampire. I sneer.

You also don’t have a key. She retorts.

She’s not fucking around or playing with me either. She’s serious. I lean my head to the side. It’s been a long time since she’s denied me something I want. And why is she drawing the line at me taking care of her? We don’t have to fuck. There’s no kink involved. I just want her to be okay.

So I take a slow breath, make sure no one else is around and explain as simply as I can.

I don’t want you hurt, Lace. I whisper it, just for her. Let me make sure you’re okay.

You can text me. She’s still arguing, but her voice is softer, some color back in her cheeks.

Please let me do it this way. I continue. Otherwise I may have to insist on H.R. getting involved.

Her eyes widen for a moment and I chuckle. Not about that. My fingers slip under her chin and I pull her towards me, running my nose over hers. "Never about that. Just about your fall."

I’m really okay. She insists. You know I’m not breakable.

I’d like to make sure. I force the words out. Please, Lacy. May I come over?

I feel her lips part against mine. I’m tempted to kiss her, to close the millimeter of space between us and claim her mouth the same way I claimed the rest of her earlier today. But it’s not fair of me to do that. One drunk night I told her that if I ever kissed her more than once, I’d fucking fall for her and we’d both end up with broken hearts.

And now I know I was right. Because I know that I can’t offer her more than what we currently have. I’m not relationship material and that’s been made plenty clear to me in the past. But fuck, I want to kiss her, to taste her tongue, to make sure she’s still mine despite being in another man’s arms.

Lacy’s eyes drag up from my lips and she studies my eyes for a long moment. Finally, she answers in a soft, barely there voice. Bring ice cream.

Good girl. I press my lips to the corner of her mouth so it doesn’t count and then her temple. Can you drive home on your own?

Yes, sir.

I’ll text you when I’m on my way.

That’s when you’ll get my address. She nods, then climbs into her car. She nurses her ankle, but I know she doesn’t want me to see the full extent of her pain. She’s too fucking independent and so unwilling to ask for help. As if that will somehow make her less than.

I watch her pull out of the parking lot, then get in my own vehicle and head to the dinner I suddenly have no fucking interest in.

Chapter 5: Lacy

Once I get home and inside the safety of my first-floor apartment, I exhale. Fighting the pain on the drive over has been the priority. I let myself cry at stop lights, then focused on keeping my vision clear so I could stay between the white lines.

Which means that my entire weird conversation with Alexander only hits me once I’m home, preparing ice and grabbing pillows to prop my ankle up on the couch. Once I get everything situated, I flop down, prop my leg up and ignore the fact that I can actually see my toes pulsing by thinking of that crazy conversation.

Why in the world does Alexander want to come over? He’s never wanted to come over. No. That’s not true. Six months ago, right before our drunk night together, where he ducked out of the apartment before I woke up, right before then, he’d gone too rough and hurt me.

I hadn’t told him at the time. I didn’t want to ruin our kinky fun and I definitely didn’t want him to see me as fragile. So I’d waited until I got home to let him know that I was in pain and to ask him for more than the usual two to three days between our liaisons.  He’d tried to demand that I let him come over, that since it was his fault, it was his responsibility to take care of me and take me to the doctor if I needed him to.

I didn’t. He’d bruised my cervix and it hurt like a bitch, but with some pain killers and a few days of doing nothing over the long weekend, I was good as new. He’d pouted, insisted, threatened, but I’d held my ground.

When I’d gotten back to work, things had been normal, but I’d felt the rift between us. The next time we spoke privately, he chose his words carefully, reminding me of the importance of our safe words, the need for trust and transparency, and ensuring that I felt safe enough to tell him if and when things were painful or too far outside my comfort zone.

Even after that, things had been weird.

I’m still sure that if we wouldn’t have both gotten drunk, had clumsy sex filled with lots of laughing and stupid jokes, then a too-deep conversation before passing out, we would have ended because I didn’t take two seconds to voice my discomfort.

But Alexander and I are only fuck buddies and colleagues. We’re kind of friends, we do things together and I enjoy spending time with him, but I have no illusions. Anytime anything remotely romantic or sweet comes up, he puts miles between us to avoid any confusion. No relationship. Ever.

Even if he insists on coming over to make sure I’m taking care of a twisted ankle.

Shaking my head, I text Sebastian that I’ve made it home and he sends me a sweet message in reply.

Sebastian: I didn’t realize you’d fall for me so hard.

It’s cheesy and awful, but I can’t help but smile.

Me: I don’t think it was you I fell for.

Sebastian: I’ll just have to try again when we’re not forced to be professional.

I stare at my phone a moment. He can’t possibly mean that. We just met and he has no reason to even joke about seeing me again or wave the implication of a date in front of me.

Especially considering I’m his new partner’s secretary. I know I’m attractive. Men don’t hesitate to tell me all about it or all they’d like to do to me, but Sebastian isn’t some stereotypical construction guy cataloging me. And a date is very different from asking to fuck me.

It’s also dangerously close to what I want. Sebastian is attractive, the air between us sizzled when he caught me. And me falling was his fault. The stupid pun he’d cracked had been terrible, but the right kind of terrible, the kind that made me laugh.

And snort.

Then fall.

Sebastian: Would you like to go out on a date once you’re healed?

Me: Yes.

Sebastian: Friday?

Me: You won’t get me in heels. But as long as I can walk, it’s a date.

I set my phone to the side and shake my head. The glee and fun evaporate and guilt takes their place. It feels like I’m cheating on Alexander, but I’d be lying if I said I was completely happy with him. Lately, I can’t keep up with him. His rules, his shifting moods, the way he only wants to mark his territory when he thinks someone else has caught my eye.

I’ve seen him get possessive around me when we’ve gone out, but I’m more than just a toy and he can’t make all my decisions for me. Plus, he can’t keep me from ending what we have. We agreed to be exclusive, or I agreed, but I’m almost ready to be done with it. And I won’t apologize for wanting more out of life than to be someone’s fuckbuddy.

Alex, I know we’ve been doing this for a while, but I want out. I say out loud, tasting it on my tongue.

I cringe.

How do I manage to sound like a middle schooler?

Groaning, I adjust the ice on my ankle. I turn on the TV and shake my head at myself. As tempting as it is to focus on the heat I feel radiating up my leg, or the steady cramp in my thigh as I try not to move my leg, I know that I’m going to have to work up the nerve to actually end things and what better time to start practicing than now?

Alex, I’m sorry, but ...

He doesn’t want a sorry.

Alex, I’m done.

Good. Simple. Direct. The smallest amount of words used to make my point. He’ll appreciate it even if he doesn’t like it and we can be on our way. And I’ll do it before my date with Sebastian.

No overlap. No rules breaking. And Mr. Clay will just be my boss.

Something drops in my stomach and I rub my temple. What I really need, more than Alexander worrying about me or a date with Sebastian, is fucking wine. Wine to help with the pain and wine to help with the whirlpool of thoughts in my head.

But the ice feels amazing and I don’t have it in me to move. So, I watch mediocre TV and let my mind drift.

Of course my thoughts go right to Alexander.

Alex and I have had moments so great, I was sure that we were going to move past this physical-only relationship. He’s made me laugh, we’ve gotten to know each other, he went with me to my grandmother’s funeral. We’ve played darts and silly bar games to get free drinks.

In a lot of ways, he’s a friend. The sex is great too. Earthshattering. So good that I can’t really remember what anyone was like before and I’m not sure I want to leave it. It’s rough and primal and intense as hell. Never soft.

...

As I’m starting to doze off, my phone rings. I groan and ignore it, but it rings again. Finally, I grab it. This is Lacy Larson.

Address. Alexander cuts right to the point, no small talk, no introductions.

I really just want to go to sleep, Mr. Clay. I sigh, trying again to push this off. I like having this one place to myself. To have a place untouched by work.

You can, once I give you a clean bill of health. He hums.

You’re not a doctor.

My bedside manner is excellent though. He chuckles.

I blink a few times. Are you drunk?

No.

I want ice cream and wine if you’re going to insist. I order.

Don’t push your luck, Lacy.

"I’m allowing you to come over. Be happy I don’t make you beg." I grumble before hanging up.

I’m sure I’ll be punished for that later, but I don’t care. I don’t even care if there is a later. I just want to be done and not feel pulled in a million directions or feel the pain shooting down to my toes and up to my knee.

Even as I text Alexander, I’m too aware of the way my toes curl against the cold air and how that apparently moves my whole leg and sends tendrils of pain through me. Gasping, I try to adjust, but every small movement reverberates through me, somehow always getting back to this one fucking ankle.

By the time Alexander comes in, since I left the door unlocked, I’m frustrated and ready to yell at my own foot because nothing else has worked. I try to adjust slightly, so my back stops screaming at me and I can feel at least slightly comfortable, but I give in and have a one-way argument with my leg.

Stupid piece of shit ankle. I’m not old enough to have these fucking problems. I hiss.

Alexander stays quiet until I look up at him. He’s actually smiling at me. Something gentle that seems to soften his whole face until he’s someone I barely recognize. I swallow and feel myself blush. I scratch at my ponytail.

Hi.

So you are in pain. He says while looking me over as if taking stock of me in full.

I grab a pillow and throw it at him. He catches it and sets it behind my back.

His eyes stroke over me again. I know I look like shit. I came home, wiped my fucking makeup off, got out of my clothes, and into a giant P.J. shirt covered in paint with plenty of holes.

It’s the first time he’s ever seen me so casual and I hate it. It’s too ... unlike us. It’s too comfortable. We’re all about formality, fine print, and clear limits. Alexander rolls his eyes, then sits on my coffee table. He shows me the rosé wine and my favorite ice cream.

Is this enough to buy some kindness? He asks, one eyebrow raised.

I glance between the two items, sigh and nod. For a little bit.

I still can’t believe you like vanilla ice cream. He chuckles, looking at the label as if it’s some kind of exotic flavor rather than the most popular flavor in the entire country.

Vanilla is good. In fact, it’s so good that it’s the base for a bunch of other flavors. I shrug. Hell, it’s even good in the bedroom on occasion.

Alexander thinks that over, then goes to my kitchen as if he’s been here a million times. He looks too big for my apartment. He’s obviously the best looking thing in it. Which churns something in me. Because I’d like to keep him here. Like to keep him sweet and doting on me.

Which is impossible.

What do you want first, wine or ice cream? He asks, his back to me.

What a gorgeous back and ass. I bite my lip. I’m sorry that you cut out of dinner early. You really don’t need to be here.

That doesn’t answer my question. He glances at me over his shoulder. Should I start tallying spanks for you?

I roll my eyes, but can’t help the smile that teases my lips. Alexander grins back and shakes his head. Which one?

Wine doesn’t melt. Let’s do the ice cream thing. I decide.

He nods and I pinch my arm, just to double check that I’m not dreaming. I wince, causing the ice on my ankle to tumble off the pillow tower and to the couch. It settles it. I’m not dreaming and Alexander is in my kitchen getting ice cream ready for. Insane.

Chapter 6: Alexander

Lacy watches as I return