Beautiful Bastard

while rubbing the silky fabric between his fingers. “That’s fine.” He finished, hanging up the phone.
    The elevator jerked as it began ascending again. He looked down at the lace in his hand and then back to me. And then he smirked, stepping away from the wall and stalking toward me. Placing one hand next to my head, he leaned in, running his nose along my neck and whispering, “You smell as good as you feel.”
    A small gasp escaped me.
    “And these,” he said, motioning to my panties in his hand, “are mine.”
    The elevator chimed as we stopped at our floor. The doors opened and without a single glance back in my direction, he slipped the delicate fabric into the pocket of his suit jacket and strode out.

Four
    Panic. The emotion gripping me as I all but sprinted to my office could only be described as pure panic. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Being alone with her in that tiny steel prison—her smell, her sounds, her skin—made my self-control evaporate. I was unraveling. This woman had a hold on me unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
    Finally in the relative safety of my office, I collapsed on the leather sofa. Leaning forward, I gripped my hair tightly, willing myself to calm and my erection to subside.
    Things were going from bad to worse.
    I’d known from the minute she reminded me of the morning’s meeting that there was no way in hell I could form one coherent thought, let alone give an entire presentation in that fucking conference room. And forget sitting at that table. Walking in there to find her leaning up against the glass, deep in thought, was enough to make me hard again.
    I’d made up some bullshit story about the meeting being moved to a different floor, and of course she called me on it. Why did she always have to antagonize me? I made a point of reminding her of who was in charge. But as with every other argument we’d ever had, she threw it right back in my face.
    I jumped slightly at a loud thud in the outside office. Followed by another one. And yet another. What the hell was going on out there? I stood and made my way to the door, opening it to find Miss Mills slamming down her folders in different piles. I folded my arms and leaned against the wall, watching her for a moment. The sight of her so angry was not diminishing the problem in my trousers in the slightest.
    “Would you mind telling me what your problem is?”
    She looked up at me as if I’d sprouted an extra head. “Are you out of your mind?”
    “Not even a little.”
    “Pardon me if I feel a touch edgy,” she hissed, grabbing a stack of folders and roughly shoving them into a drawer.
    “I’m not exactly thrilled with the—”
    “Bennett,” my dad said, walking briskly into my office. “Great job in there. Henry and I just spoke with Dorothy and Troy and they were—” He stopped and stared at where Miss Mills stood, white-knuckling the edge of her desk.
    “Chloe, dear, are you okay?”
    She straightened and stretched her fingers, nodding. Her face was beautifully flushed, her hair a little wild. From me. I swallowed and turned to look out the window.
    “You don’t look well,” Dad said, walking to her and putting his hand on her forehead. “You’re hot.”
    I clenched my jaw as I watched their reflection in the glass, a strange feeling clawing its way up my spine. Where is this coming from?
    “Actually,” she said, “I do feel a little off.”
    “Well, you should head home. With your work schedule and having just finished the semester at school, no doubt you’re—”
    “We have a full calendar today, I’m afraid,” I said, turning to face them. “I was expecting to finish Beaumont, Miss Mills,” I growled through clenched teeth.
    My father turned his steely gaze on me. “I’m sure you can handle whatever needs to be done, Bennett.” He turned back to her. “You go on ahead.”
    “Thank you, Elliott.” She looked at me, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Ryan.”
    I watched her walk out and my father closed the door behind her, turning to look at me with fire in his eyes.
    “What?” I asked.
    “It wouldn’t kill you to be a little nicer, Bennett.” He moved forward and sat on the corner of her desk. “You’re lucky to have her, you know.”
    I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “If her personality were as appealing as her PowerPoint skills, we wouldn’t have a problem.”
    He cut me off with a glare. “Your mother called