“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I yelled into the empty elevator, practically stomping my feet. That bastard had ripped his last pair of panties.

The elevator chimed, signaling that I’d reached the garage, and, muttering to myself, I made my way to my car. The garage was dimly lit and mine was one of the only cars left on this level, but I was too furious to even give it a second thought. I’d hate to see the unlucky prick who dared mess with me right now. Just as that thought entered my mind, I heard the stairwell door burst open and Mr. Ryan call out from behind me.

“Christ! Will you f**king wait?” he shouted. It did not escape my attention that he was out of breath. I suppose sprinting down eighteen flights of stairs would do that to a person.

Unlocking my car, I jerked open the door and threw my purse onto the passenger seat. “What the hell do you want, Ryan?”

“God, can you take it out of bitch mode for two seconds and listen to me?”

I spun around to face him. “Do you think I’m some kind of whore?”

A hundred different emotions flashed across his face: anger, shock, confusion, hate, and f**k me if he didn’t look delicious. He’d opened the collar of his shirt, his hair was an absolute mess, and the bead of sweat running down the side of his jaw was not helping the situation. I was determined to stay mad.

Keeping a careful distance, he shook his head. “Jesus,” he said, looking around the garage. “You think I see you as a whore? No! It was just in case—” He stopped, trying to organize his thoughts. He seemed to finally give up, jaw clenched.

The rage was coursing through me so strongly that before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked through the empty garage. With a shocked and furious glare, he reached up and touched the spot where I had struck him.

“You may be my boss, but you do not get to decide how this works.”

The silence stretched before us, the sounds of the traffic and the outside world barely registering in my consciousness. “You know,” he began with a dark stare, taking a single step toward me, “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

Oh, that smooth f**ker.

“Against the window.” Another step. “In the elevator and stairwell. In the dressing room while you watched me f**k you.” And another. “When you spread your legs in my office today, I didn’t hear one word of protest out of that f**king mouth of yours.”

My chest was heaving, and I could feel the cool metal of my car through the thin material of my dress. Even with my shoes, he still stood a full head above me, and when he leaned down, I could feel his warm breath against my hair. All I had to do was look up, and our mouths would meet.

“Well, I’m over it,” I said through clenched teeth, but each labored breath brought me a brief moment of relief as my chest grazed against his.

“Of course you are,” he whispered, shaking his head and moving even closer, his erection pressing into my stomach. He braced his hands against the car, trapping me. “Completely over it.”

“Except . . . maybe . . .” I said, not sure whether I meant to say it out loud.

“Maybe just one more time?” His lips barely brushed mine.

It was too gentle, too real.

Turning my face up, I whispered against his mouth, “I don’t want to want this. It’s not good for me.”

His nostrils flared slightly and just when I thought I would go insane, he took my lower lip roughly between his and pulled me to him. Growling into my mouth, he deepened the kiss and pushed me forcefully against the car. Like last time, he reached up and removed the pins from my hair.

Our kisses were teasing then rough, coming together and pulling apart, hands fisting in hair and tongues sliding against each other. I gasped as he bent his knees slightly, grinding his c**k against me.

“God,” I moaned, wrapping my leg around him and digging my heel into his thigh.

“I know.” He exhaled heavily into my mouth. Looking down at my leg and cupping my ass with his hand, he gave it a rough squeeze and murmured, “Have I told you how f**king hot those shoes are? What are you trying to do to me with those wicked little bows?”

“Well, there’s another bow somewhere else but you’ll need some luck finding it.”

He pulled away. “Get in the f**king car,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his throat as he yanked the door open.

I glared at him, willing rational thought to penetrate my clouded brain. What should I do? What did I want? Could I just let him have my body like this again? I was so overwhelmed, I was trembling. Rational thought was quickly abandoning me as I felt his hand run up my neck and into my hair.

Gripping it tightly he jerked my head toward him and stared into my eyes. “Now.”

The decision was made, and once again I wrapped his tie around my wrist, pulling him into the backseat. Once the door closed behind him, he wasted no time going for the ties on the front of my dress. I groaned as I felt him part the material and run his hands across my bare skin. Pushing me back to lie on the cool leather and kneeling between my legs, he placed his palm between my br**sts, slowly moving down my abdomen to the lace garter belt. His fingers traced the delicate ribbons to the edge of my stockings and back up again, moving to run across the edge of my panties. The muscles of my abdomen clenched with every movement and I tried to control my breathing. Fingering the tiny white bows, he looked up at me and said, “Luck has nothing to do with it.”