Surrender to Temptation Part III: Tempted to Obey by Lauren Jameson Page B
Authors: Lauren Jameson
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the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me.
“Christ.” I whispered out loud to myself and breathed in deeply, bracing my arms on the counter and leaning over the sink. “What the hell was that?”
My head cleared minutely now that I was in a separate room. Zach was so charismatic, his personality so imposing, that I couldn’t help but attune myself to him entirely when he was with me. Though I was acutely aware of him in the next room, I gulped at my aloneness, trying to slow my thundering pulse and calm my skittering nerves.
You are in way over your head, Devon
. Slowly I looked up, looked at myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the woman in the mirror. Oh, the wide blue eyes were the same, and so was the blond hair. Same face, same body.
But Zach had revealed a part of myself that I hadn’t known existed. Somehow I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me. I trusted him—and I had from the very start. What scared me was how much I had liked it. The kink, the edge of violence, the obsessive need,
that
was what made me terrified.
I was craving more, even as my flesh was still tender from his touch. And what I craved wasn’t restricted to the physical—no, those rare glimpses into the vulnerable Zach, the one that I suspected no one else saw, those were more addicting than the pleasure he pulled from my body.
Squeezing my eyes tightly together, I talked myself out of banging my head into the wall repeatedly in frustration. Instead I turned on the shower—unlike the one in his bedroom at his mansion, this one had a normal faucet. As I stepped beneath spray that was as hot as I could handle, I tried to get a grip.
He had warned me—he wasn’t interested in a typical relationship. And I knew that I would accept whatever proposal he threw my way, because now having had a taste, I was desperate for more.
But could I do it without losing myself along the way?
***
I schooled my face into a smile as I stepped out of the office bathroom. My hair was slightly damp from the mist of the shower, but I had combed it and pulled it back into a tidy ponytail. Zach hadn’t had any makeup in his drawers—which I couldn’t deny pleased me, because that meant that he didn’t often have women in his office shower—but I had at least washed the remaining smudges of makeup from my face.
Though my skirt was still fairly presentable, my blouse was a disaster. It was missing two buttons, and had wrinkled horribly. One of Zach’s dress shirts had hung on the back of the bathroom door, and after a long hesitation I had shrugged out of my shirt and into his.
Though I regretted it as soon as I had, I didn’t have a choice. He must have worn the shirt and not had it laundered since, because his unmistakable scent—the one that he had branded me with—rose from the fibers of the garment as I tucked it into my skirt.
Well, I wouldn’t be able to return to my department dressed like this. But I was at least presentable enough to go home.
Nerves rioted through my belly as I crossed the office to stand in front of Zach’s desk. He was at the window that comprised the entire wall of his office, and though his face was expressionless, his body had tensed as soon as I had opened the door to the bathroom.
“Zach.” What I was about to do terrified me, but I felt compelled to regardless. He might have considered it a “misplaced sense of give and take,” as he had called it the night we met, but that was just how I functioned.
As much as it scared me, he had given me an emotional release that afternoon that I knew had taken me one giant step forward on my personal journey.
I owed him one.
He didn’t respond to my soft query—he may not have even heard me. I repeated his name, a little bit louder. He turned, an eyebrow raised, and when he fully faced me I almost ran out the door.
The arrogant billionaire who ran a massive corporation had displaced the emotional, vulnerable lover completely.
“I—I know you
“Christ.” I whispered out loud to myself and breathed in deeply, bracing my arms on the counter and leaning over the sink. “What the hell was that?”
My head cleared minutely now that I was in a separate room. Zach was so charismatic, his personality so imposing, that I couldn’t help but attune myself to him entirely when he was with me. Though I was acutely aware of him in the next room, I gulped at my aloneness, trying to slow my thundering pulse and calm my skittering nerves.
You are in way over your head, Devon
. Slowly I looked up, looked at myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the woman in the mirror. Oh, the wide blue eyes were the same, and so was the blond hair. Same face, same body.
But Zach had revealed a part of myself that I hadn’t known existed. Somehow I knew that he wouldn’t hurt me. I trusted him—and I had from the very start. What scared me was how much I had liked it. The kink, the edge of violence, the obsessive need,
that
was what made me terrified.
I was craving more, even as my flesh was still tender from his touch. And what I craved wasn’t restricted to the physical—no, those rare glimpses into the vulnerable Zach, the one that I suspected no one else saw, those were more addicting than the pleasure he pulled from my body.
Squeezing my eyes tightly together, I talked myself out of banging my head into the wall repeatedly in frustration. Instead I turned on the shower—unlike the one in his bedroom at his mansion, this one had a normal faucet. As I stepped beneath spray that was as hot as I could handle, I tried to get a grip.
He had warned me—he wasn’t interested in a typical relationship. And I knew that I would accept whatever proposal he threw my way, because now having had a taste, I was desperate for more.
But could I do it without losing myself along the way?
***
I schooled my face into a smile as I stepped out of the office bathroom. My hair was slightly damp from the mist of the shower, but I had combed it and pulled it back into a tidy ponytail. Zach hadn’t had any makeup in his drawers—which I couldn’t deny pleased me, because that meant that he didn’t often have women in his office shower—but I had at least washed the remaining smudges of makeup from my face.
Though my skirt was still fairly presentable, my blouse was a disaster. It was missing two buttons, and had wrinkled horribly. One of Zach’s dress shirts had hung on the back of the bathroom door, and after a long hesitation I had shrugged out of my shirt and into his.
Though I regretted it as soon as I had, I didn’t have a choice. He must have worn the shirt and not had it laundered since, because his unmistakable scent—the one that he had branded me with—rose from the fibers of the garment as I tucked it into my skirt.
Well, I wouldn’t be able to return to my department dressed like this. But I was at least presentable enough to go home.
Nerves rioted through my belly as I crossed the office to stand in front of Zach’s desk. He was at the window that comprised the entire wall of his office, and though his face was expressionless, his body had tensed as soon as I had opened the door to the bathroom.
“Zach.” What I was about to do terrified me, but I felt compelled to regardless. He might have considered it a “misplaced sense of give and take,” as he had called it the night we met, but that was just how I functioned.
As much as it scared me, he had given me an emotional release that afternoon that I knew had taken me one giant step forward on my personal journey.
I owed him one.
He didn’t respond to my soft query—he may not have even heard me. I repeated his name, a little bit louder. He turned, an eyebrow raised, and when he fully faced me I almost ran out the door.
The arrogant billionaire who ran a massive corporation had displaced the emotional, vulnerable lover completely.
“I—I know you
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