“What’s going on, Jilly?” he asked, his voice soft. He steepled his fingers beneath his chin, looking directly at her, holding her gaze.
Once again, his changing attitude confused her. Just like last time, in front of everyone in the office, he was stern, unyielding. But in the privacy of his office, when it was just the two of them, his whole demeanour changed. Now he was much less stern.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Nothing? You’re not taking care of yourself, you’re obviously tired, your hair is messy, your blouse is wrinkled, and you’re late to work. That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
Jilly sighed. “Why do you care? You’re not my father.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, glared at her ferociously. He was so hot when he did that! Her heart pounded, heat rushed to her pussy. The way her body reacted was undeniable. But why? She was confused. Why was she getting turned on by being glared at by a sexy, stern, dominant man?
“No, Miss Watson, I am not your father,” Matthew agreed. “But I consider myself to be your friend. And friends help each other. I want to help you, Jilly. Tell me what’s going on.”
She wanted to tell him, she really did. But memories of Cameron breaking her heart came flooding back and tears pricked the back of her eyes as she stubbornly shook her head. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell anybody. There was nothing he could do. What did she expect him to do? Wave a magic wand and make it all better?
Why would he want to help her anyway? He was a man. And all men did was break hearts. She’d been through that already and it had nearly destroyed her. There was no way she could go through it again. No, she would sort out her problems herself, just like she’d always done. She didn’t need anyone’s help.
“Nothing,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”
She looked at his desk, refusing to meet his gaze, even though she could feel his eyes boring into her. He was staring at her hard, she could tell. Silently demanding that she tell him what was going on; begging her to let down that wall she’d built around herself and let him help her.
“Jilly, look at me.”
She ignored him.
He reached across the desk and took her chin in his hand. She jumped, startled, at his touch. She leaned back, trying to evade him, but his firm grip tightened, he tilted her face up.
“Look at me.”
Tears clouded her vision but she stubbornly blinked them back. No way would she let them fall. Not under these circumstances. She would not cry. Not here. Not now. Biting her lip, fighting with her emotions, she slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze.
“Good girl.” He released her chin.
Sheer stubbornness helped her hold his stare with an unwavering one of her own. She didn’t blink. She just kept her eyes fixed firmly on his, refusing to let the prickling tears fall.
Matthew sighed. “If you are late again with no explanation, there will be consequences,” he told her firmly.
What kind of consequences? she wanted to ask, but she held her tongue. She already knew that repeated tardiness would lead to the loss of her job. She didn’t need him to spell it out for her. Instead, she nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said meekly.
For the rest of the morning, Jilly replayed their conversation over and over in her head. I consider myself to be your friend. I want to help you. There will be consequences. The words in her brain stole her focus away from her work. They made her confused. How could he want to help her in one breath and threaten her the next? It didn’t make any sense. Nor did it make any sense the way her body responded to him. All she could think of was him.
He’s just like Cameron, her inner voice insisted bitterly. He’s only going to break your heart. Except somehow, she knew he wasn’t like Cameron at all.
At lunchtime, he stopped at her desk. “Lunchtime, Miss Watson,” he told her, extending his hand in invitation.
She shook her head. “I’ll work through.”
“You will not work through,” he insisted, sounding so stern, so bossy, that a tingle went down her spine. “You need to eat. We’ve been over this. Do you want to find out what happens to naughty girls?”
His baritone rumble washed over her, making her entire body prickle with desire. Did she want to find out? Part of her did. Her pussy clenched. He picked up her hand, enclosing her fingers in his. He tugged gently, pulling her up out of her seat effortlessly. “You’re coming to lunch, Miss Watson. Do not make me put you across my knee.”
Oh, my god. Did he just say that? Jilly froze. Her heart beat a mile a minute, pounding so hard she feared it would burst. Heat flooded her veins, shot to her core. Her breasts tightened, her pussy ached. He did not just say that! She felt her face flush. He had said it; he had definitely said it. And it was the hottest thing she’d heard in years.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, but at the same time she wondered if he would.
“Don’t ever dare me, Miss Watson,” he growled softly.
The air around them crackled with electricity, too thick to breathe. Jilly opened her mouth. Closed it again. She wanted to speak, to protest, but she couldn’t make herself form the words. Her bottom quivered, clenched of its own accord. She imagined his huge hand upon it, rubbing out the sting from his heavy palm. What would it feel like, a slap from him?
She imagined herself upended over his muscular thigh, her bottom bared, completely at his mercy. She imagined his fingers trailing over
