Blackmailed Between My Thighs - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading Blackmailed Between My Thighs, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of Blackmailed Between My Thighs.
We'd made it to the elevator by then. Outright refusal felt impossible, but my pride wouldn't let me agree either—so I settled for some noncommittal mumbling. Not exactly my finest moment, but with half the office within earshot, this wasn't the place for that kind of conversation.
Then the elevator doors opened, and there he was—Daniel, all six-foot-whatever of him looming over his desk like some Greek god of spreadsheets. Isabella's proposition came rushing back.
God, those shoulders. That's exactly my type.
"A woman should enjoy herself. You're single—live a little!"
"This is how reputations get ruined. Have some self-respect!"
The war in my head raged all afternoon, the voices growing louder with every glance at Daniel's biceps. By quitting time, I could barely focus on my work.
The office emptied out. Isabella's chair sat vacant. Had she already...?
Before I could second-guess myself, I found my keycard in hand, riding the elevator up.
The storage room door stood slightly ajar. From inside came these... sounds. Little gasps. The creak of—oh God, were they already—?
My pulse hammered in my throat as I peeked through the gap.
Isabella lay sprawled across a brown gym mat, lips swollen, face flushed. "Jesus, Daniel. Even Iowa farmland gets crop rotation."
Above her, Daniel's sweat-slicked muscles flexed with each movement. "This morning," he panted, "what were you and Vivian—that VP with the insane body—talking about?"
My breath hitched at my name.
Isabella's laugh came out breathless. "What, you got a thing for my boss now?"
Daniel slowed his pace. "That waist. That ass. Drives me fucking crazy. And a woman who's been single that long?" A dark chuckle. "Bet she's a wildcat in bed."
Heat flooded my face—like he'd reached inside my skull and voiced my dirtiest thoughts. Every nerve ending lit up at once.
I needed to run. Needed to—why couldn't I move?
Then warm hands circled my waist. Lips grazed my ear. "Vivian... getting ideas?"
I spun with a yelp—straight into Nathan Lawrence's chest.
Inside, all movement stopped. The door flew open.
Daniel stood there, naked and glistening, every muscle taut.
Humiliation and something darker warred in my gut. My knees buckled—only for Nathan to catch me, hoisting me up like a damn backpack.
Instinct made me cling to his neck. Then reality hit—this position, his hands under my thighs—oh God. I buried my face in his shoulder, shaking.
"Still playing hard to get?" Isabella purred, pushing Daniel forward. "Come on, bestie. Let's make it a party."
Then the elevator doors opened, and there he was—Daniel, all six-foot-whatever of him looming over his desk like some Greek god of spreadsheets. Isabella's proposition came rushing back.
God, those shoulders. That's exactly my type.
"A woman should enjoy herself. You're single—live a little!"
"This is how reputations get ruined. Have some self-respect!"
The war in my head raged all afternoon, the voices growing louder with every glance at Daniel's biceps. By quitting time, I could barely focus on my work.
The office emptied out. Isabella's chair sat vacant. Had she already...?
Before I could second-guess myself, I found my keycard in hand, riding the elevator up.
The storage room door stood slightly ajar. From inside came these... sounds. Little gasps. The creak of—oh God, were they already—?
My pulse hammered in my throat as I peeked through the gap.
Isabella lay sprawled across a brown gym mat, lips swollen, face flushed. "Jesus, Daniel. Even Iowa farmland gets crop rotation."
Above her, Daniel's sweat-slicked muscles flexed with each movement. "This morning," he panted, "what were you and Vivian—that VP with the insane body—talking about?"
My breath hitched at my name.
Isabella's laugh came out breathless. "What, you got a thing for my boss now?"
Daniel slowed his pace. "That waist. That ass. Drives me fucking crazy. And a woman who's been single that long?" A dark chuckle. "Bet she's a wildcat in bed."
Heat flooded my face—like he'd reached inside my skull and voiced my dirtiest thoughts. Every nerve ending lit up at once.
I needed to run. Needed to—why couldn't I move?
Then warm hands circled my waist. Lips grazed my ear. "Vivian... getting ideas?"
I spun with a yelp—straight into Nathan Lawrence's chest.
Inside, all movement stopped. The door flew open.
Daniel stood there, naked and glistening, every muscle taut.
Humiliation and something darker warred in my gut. My knees buckled—only for Nathan to catch me, hoisting me up like a damn backpack.
Instinct made me cling to his neck. Then reality hit—this position, his hands under my thighs—oh God. I buried my face in his shoulder, shaking.
"Still playing hard to get?" Isabella purred, pushing Daniel forward. "Come on, bestie. Let's make it a party."
End of Blackmailed Between My Thighs Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Blackmailed Between My Thighs book page.