“You left a handprint on my thigh.”I said it while sitting across from him in his office, legs crossed, blouse rebuttoned, pretending like I wasn’t still wet between my legs from what he did to me ten minutes ago on this very desk.

He didn’t even blink. Just sipped his espresso and set the cup down slowly.

“Did it fade?” he asked, his voice calm.

I smirked. “No.”

“Good.”

The silence between us stretched, heavy with everything we couldn’t say. I should have stood. I should have left. I should have remembered that this was just sex.

But instead, I watched him roll up his sleeves again.

That simple gesture did something to me.

He looked like the kind of man who would bend you over a boardroom table, slide two fingers inside you during a conference call, and not blink when you came with his name in your mouth.

I shifted in my seat.

His eyes flicked to the movement. Trained. Focused.

“You keep squirming, I’ll assume it’s an invitation.”

I didn’t respond.

Because it was.

But just as I opened my mouth to say something reckless, the office door burst open.

A woman stepped in—tall, stunning, high cheekbones, long hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Every inch of her screamed power.

And jealousy.

Her eyes locked on me.

Then him.

Then the wrinkled blouse I was still adjusting.

“Seriously, Roman?”

He didn’t even look surprised. Just annoyed.

“Not now, Naomi.”

I stood slowly, heart thumping.

Who the hell was Naomi?

She ignored me completely and marched right up to his desk.

“I told you we had a problem. And this,” she said, gesturing toward me like I was some sort of stain, “is exactly what I meant.”

Roman stood.

And suddenly, I understood why he terrified the board.

His presence shifted. No more teasing. No more filthy whispers.

He was cold steel wrapped in skin.

“I said not now.”

Naomi’s lip curled. “Your father is watching every move this company makes. And here you are, screwing assistants in your office like you’re untouchable.”

The word father rang in my ears.

Roman’s jaw flexed.

“I will deal with him. And who I screw is none of your business.”

Her eyes flicked to me again, hard and assessing.

“She’s going to cost you.”

Then she turned and walked out like she owned the air behind her.

The door slammed.

Silence.

Roman turned toward me, his eyes darker now. Sharper.

“I’m guessing she’s not just a friend,” I said carefully.

“She’s my father’s personal leech,” he said, voice tight. “Here to report anything that might make me look unfit to take full control.”

“And what we’re doing… qualifies?”

He looked at me for a long second.

Then crossed the room.

And in one swift movement, he yanked me against him.

His hand slid up my back and tangled in my hair, pulling my head back.

“She can report whatever she wants,” he said against my throat. “I’m not stopping.”

“Even if it blows up your legacy?”

His grip tightened.

“I’d burn this company to the ground to have you back on my desk.”

My breath caught.

His mouth crashed against mine, harder this time. No softness. No slow build. Just hunger.

He pulled my skirt up and slid a hand between my legs.

No warning. No teasing.

Fingers pushed past the lace, finding me soaked.

“I knew it,” he growled. “Still dripping for me.”

I whimpered into his mouth.

He spun me around and bent me over the windowsill, the glass cold against my skin.

The skyline of the city stretched out in front of us.

But all I could feel was him.

“Roman—”

He pushed my panties aside and slid inside me with one brutal thrust.

I cried out, eyes slamming shut.

“No hiding,” he said into my ear. “Look at the city while I fuck you.”

I opened my eyes.

Cars. Lights. Pedestrians. They were all out there, living their boring lives.

While I was here, bent over in a CEO’s office, being taken like I belonged to him.

He thrust harder, deeper, each movement making the glass vibrate against my chest.

His fingers slid down to my clit, rubbing fast, relentless.

I was close already. Too close.

“Say my name,” he ordered.

I tried to fight it. I did.

But it spilled out of me.

“Roman—God—Roman—”

He groaned and slammed into me one last time.

I shattered.

Right there. Against a sixty-third floor window.

He followed with a curse and held me tight against him while he rode out his release, one hand still tangled in my hair.

When it was over, we both just stood there. Breathing. Raw. Shaking.

I leaned my forehead against the glass, completely wrecked.

He kissed the back of my neck.

Then whispered, “I want you again. And again. Until there is no part of you I have not owned.”

I turned slowly.

“This is dangerous,” I said, my voice hoarse.

He smiled.

“So am I.”