I told him no. Had been so proud of my firm refusal of him, too. I’d seen Rose lingering in the background, offering me a thumbs-up when Zachary walked away. The surge of pride that had flowed through me felt good. Felt right. I was taking command of my life, my emotions, my needs, for once. Zachary didn’t fit into that anymore. Had he ever? It had always been about him, our relationship. It centered on his wants and needs. Never mine.

I’d been on such a high, I’d gone right into my office and started the online search for the perfect red tie. Something gloriously sophisticated and expensive and sexy and elegant. I clicked on my favorite store sites until I finally found the one I knew he would love. And I loved it, too.

When he called me and thanked me in that deep, sexy voice of his, I’d wanted to melt.

My cell dings that I have a text message and I pull it out of my purse to find a number I don’t recognize, along with a simple message.

I see you.

Glancing around, I see that no one else is nearby. The offices appear mostly empty. The entire floor has a hushed quality to it that I almost find unnerving.

Or maybe that’s just me, completely unnerved and worried about what I’m about to do.

My phone beeps again.

You’re late.

And then there’s another message.

We only have fifty minutes to indulge in our appetizer lunch. I suggest you head over to my office now.

The pleasure that blooms across my chest at the texts from Ryder makes me rush down the hall only to find him already standing there, leaning against the wall opposite his office, his arms folded across his chest, his biceps straining the fabric of his snowy white shirt. He must have taken off his jacket; he’s clad in only the shirt, black trousers, and a silvery gray tie. His hair is in the usual tousle, his eyes glittering as I come closer.

“You made it,” he says when I stop just in front of him.

“Sorry I’m late.” I swallow away the nerves as best I can, hating how jittery I sound. “It’s been crazy this morning.”

“Same with me.” He grabs hold of my elbow and leads me into his office, closing and locking the door behind us. The click of the lock is loud in the silence and my gaze roams over the interior of the room, noticing that the red tie is sitting in its box on top of his desk.

“Do you really like it?” I ask when I turn to him, adding when I see his confused frown, “The tie?”

The slow smile that crosses his handsome face makes my insides tremble. “Oh yes, very much.” He takes a step closer to me, reaching out to drift his fingers down the length of my arm. “Almost as much as this dress you’re wearing.”

The dress is simple, in a subtle black-and-white patterned fabric that fits me well but isn’t too terribly sexy. I feel confident in it, though. Another suit of armor for me to wear. “Th-thank you,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the sensations his fingers on my skin pull from me. He entangles his fingers with mine and jerks me to him, our bodies colliding, fitting against each other when he slips his other arm around my waist.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers just before he dips his head and presses his warm, damp lips to the side of my neck. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, resting my hands blindly on the solid wall of his chest. “We’ll take this slow. An appetizer, remember?”

I want to laugh at our silly choice of words. I want to moan when his lips blaze a trail across my skin. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as I anchor myself to him. He slips his hand down my back until he’s gripping my butt and he hauls me into him. I can already feel him, big and thick. He’s hard. Hard for me.

I can’t believe I can make a man like him react like this. That he wants me. Me. Most of the women who work at Fleur find him to be a mystery they can’t figure out. But hopefully he’ll let me in.

“What do you want, Violet?” he asks when he lifts his head, his hazy blue eyes meeting mine. I part my lips, ready to say I have no idea, but he takes advantage, kissing me before I can say a word.

And what a kiss it is. Again there’s no gentleness, no sweet exploration. He plunders my mouth with his tongue, twisting it around mine in a rhythm I can only imagine he would use while he thrusts inside my body. I can do nothing but respond, my eager hands roaming all over his chest, clutching his shoulders as I move into him. As if I want to become a part of him.

“Well?” he asks seconds, minutes later. His breathing is harsh, his shirt a wrinkled mess from my seeking hands. I keep this up and I’ll ruin all of his clothes. “What do you want from me?”

I stare up at him, at a loss for words. How can I express to him exactly what I want when I hardly know myself? I’m scared to say it. Embarrassed, too. I’ve never spoken freely about sex. That’s more Lily’s style. Which is silly because I’m a grown woman with needs and wants, just like everyone else. I’ve been with other men. I’ve had orgasms, plenty of them. Brought on by myself, by a vibrator, by a man. Mostly brought on by myself …

“Do you want me to touch you?” He presses his lips to my forehead, his hand still gripping my backside. “Do you want me to make you come?” he whispers against my skin.

Oh God. Everything inside me goes hot and loose and I nod, keeping my eyes tightly closed. “Yes,” I say shakily.

He moves away from me, and the loss of his heat, his strength, makes my eyes pop open. “Strip,” he commands, his tone firm.

I gape at him. “What?”