Taming Her Beast

It was only her second day at BlackTech Corporation, and Ava Monroe was already ticking off the hours until five o'clock.

Not because the workload was suffocating. Not because the department managers were cold and unpleasant. Not even because she'd skipped breakfast, downed too much coffee, and could feel a headache coming on behind her eyes.

No. It was him.

Xavier Black.

Her new boss.

The tech billionaire CEO with a reputation that preceded him like a shadow of thunder. Ruthless. Brilliant. Deadly. And so infuriatingly handsome that looking at him made her body forget that it was supposed to act professionally.

He was tall, at least over six feet with a sinewy, athletic build that stretched even his tailored suits to their limits. His jaw would slice glass. His voice? Low and drawling, like molten dark chocolate spiked with sin.

And the worst of it?

He didn't smile. He glared. Like a man who was used to owning whatever crossed his sight.

Including her.

Ava sat next to his office hallway beside her thin glass desk, pretending to read a report that she'd already read twice. Her eyes lingered, drawn like a magnet to the glass wall that separated him from the world.

Inside, Xavier had his back to her, one hand in his pocket, the other cradling a glass of unopened whiskey. The cuffs of his black dress shirt were rolled up, revealing tanned, veined arms. His tie was open. His hair dark and thick was messy enough to appear careless.

He resembled someone who should be featured on the cover of a billionaires' magazine. Or on top of a woman screaming his name nonstop.

Ava gulped, shifting in her seat.

She needed to stop staring. She needed to focus.

She needed to...

"Miss Monroe."

Her heart skipped a beat.

She whirled around in her chair, caught off guard to see Xavier standing feet away from her, having escaped his office unseen.

How long had he been watching her?

She tried to recover, tried to fix her face into something resembling composure. "Yes, Mr. Black?"

His eyes didn't blink. They dragged down her face, to her lips, then to her neckline, barely concealed by the silk of her blouse.

"You're ten minutes late."

Ava stiffened. "The elevator was..."

Don't finish that sentence," he interrupted smoothly. "Excuses are money for people who are going to stay poor. Are you one of them?"

She pursed her lips, but nothing came out.

His lips curled not into a smile, but into something darker. Amused. Threatening.

"Didn't think so.".

And like that, he spun and walked away, his steps silent on the marble floors, leaving the scent of cedarwood and absolute mastery hanging in the air.

God have mercy, she hated the way her thighs came together the instant he was gone.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of coffee runs, sorting paperwork, and constant reminders of him.

She could feel him looking at her behind the glass wall, behind doors closed, even behind the skin. Whenever he looked was like he stroked her with his eyes, heating her body. Foreplay without touching her.

Her nerves were fried at 4:50 p.m.

She stood to sort through the folders she needed to drop off before she left. But when she moved too quickly, the stack fell from her hands and onto the hallway in front of his office.

She swore under her breath and dropped to her knees, racing heart as she scrambled to gather them up.

That's when she heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

She looked up to find Xavier Black standing over her.

His black eyes swept the scene, her on her knees, her skirt riding precariously high on her thighs, her hair in her eyes.

And he didn't move.

He knelt.

Not to help, but to watch.

His fingers grasped a folder beside her legs, but instead of handing it over, his knuckles brushed against her thigh.

She gasped.

His hand was slow. Intentional.

"Careful, Miss Monroe," he breathed, voice low and filled with fire. "You go down on your knees like that, the office starts making assumptions."

Her heart thudded. "I...I didn't mean to"

"Didn't mean to kneel?" He regarded her. "Or didn't mean to tease me?"

Ava froze.

Air was electric between them. Her skin was too tight. Her breathing too shallow.

And then he stood. Straitened his cuffs. Gave her the folder.

Without a word, he walked away.

But as he stood in his doorway, he glanced back over his shoulder.

"My office. Ten minutes."

She shouldn't have gone.

Every inch of her wanted to remain right where she was sitting at her desk. That it was unprofessional. That this man was a wildfire and she already had gasoline all over herself.

But still exactly five o'clock, she approached his door and opened it.

His office was soberly lit, golden sunlight of the sunset falling in the room in an intimidating fashion. He was standing behind his desk, one hand on the top, the other loosening his already rumpled tie.

He said nothing. He simply regarded her.

She entered, and the door creaked shut behind her.

Silence.

"You shouldn't call interns into your office like that," she said quietly.

"You're not just any intern."

She lifted her chin. "Is that supposed to flatter me?"

"No," he said, stepping forward, his gaze piercing. "It's supposed to warn you."

Her back hit the wall. His hands pressed flat beside her head, caging her in.

"You make me feel things I shouldn't feel for someone I'm supposed to mentor," he growled, his voice a little gruffer. "And I don't do well with restraint."

She could feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath swept across her cheek. Her whole body vibrated.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed.

Her voice nearly didn't work. "I can't."

"Then remember this moment."

He inched nearer.

And kissed her.

Not gently.

No, this was punishment. A demand. A quiet acknowledgement of all the vile things he'd swallowed since she walked into his office for the first time.

His mouth devoured hers. His hands probed down her flanks. She groaned, fingers closing around his shirt as his thigh pushed between hers.

He gripped at her hips, rubbing her slowly against him.

Her blouse unsnapped unseen. His fingers slipped in, tracing upward, fingertips just brushing against the rise of her bra, before snapping it loose in one motion.

Her breath froze. Her skin flushed.

And when his fingers brushed down within her, over the edge of her panties, her knees trembled.

He did not ease up.

He rubbed against the filmy fabric, two fingers brushing across the contour of her slit, before her head fell.

She whimpered his name.

His voice growled in her ear. "So wet already..."

Then his fingers slipped beneath the lace. Featherlight caresses, spreading her folds. His thumb danced over her clit slowly, too slowly.

She gasped. Her hips jerked forward, but he held her in place.

"You're shaking," he whispered. "Are you afraid?"

She shook her head. "I'm burning."

"Good," he whispered. "Let it burn you."

And then, as she arched, as the pressure built he drew back.

Breathless. Panting.

His eyes blazed.

"We stop here."

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

"If I don't stop now, I won't stop at all," he said, voice rough. "But you should know this, Ava. Next time you come into this office, I'm not stopping."

He stepped back, adjusted his cuffs, and opened the door.

"Go home."

Ava stood in shock for a whole minute before she could gather herself, her pride, and the burning sensations between her thighs.

She went out in silence.

But her body?

Her body continued to crave him.