My CEO's Blackmail Tape - Chapter 47: Chapter 47

"We're getting married in Bali. Almost all of Isabella's family and friends live overseas. If she finds out about us, it'll be because of you. Mark my words—if you breathe a single word, I'll make sure you regret it."
I rolled my eyes. "That's it? Just empty threats?"
Nathan seemed to catch himself, his expression softening as he closed the distance between us. He pulled me into his arms, his familiar scent wrapping around me like a warm blanket. For a split second, I let myself feel safe.
Had I actually fallen for him?
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I shoved him away before I could second-guess myself.
"Evelyn, what's wrong?"
"We're at the office. Know your damn place."
I'd never believed love could grow from lust, but the idea had dug its claws into me, refusing to let go. My pulse hammered in my throat.
Nathan smirked, tilting my chin up with mocking amusement. "Know my place? Do you? Who was it last night who couldn't keep her hands off me? Who melted the second I touched her? Who begged for more?"
His words turned me into some desperate, panting mess in front of him. Humiliation burned through me, but his grip kept me locked in place.
"Your husband's moved on," he said coldly. "And your body? Only I can satisfy it now. So be a good girl. When I want you, you come—no arguments."
I was trapped.
If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.
He cupped my face, forcing my lips to meet his in a searing kiss. The office door was wide open, but he didn't care who saw.
His mistress?
A prettier word for his plaything. I had no choice but to obey, and the helplessness clawed at me. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Despair coiled tighter, dragging me deeper into the abyss.
His breathing turned rough. One hand slid under my blouse, kneading my breast, while the other hiked up my skirt, fingers tracing the silk of my stockings along my inner thigh.
I twisted toward the door, praying someone—anyone—would walk in. One witness, and the whole company would know. I'd never be able to show my face here again.
Yes, I was addicted to him. But that didn't mean I had no pride left.
As he unzipped his pants, I shoved him back and bolted for the door. If I could just get away, if I could reach someone—Nathan would have to stop. I wasn't some mindless slut. I refused to be his puppet!
But I barely made it two steps before he yanked me back.
In the end, he compromised—locking the door before slamming me against the wall. My skirt ripped as he tore it down, his mouth claiming mine while forcing my hand between his legs.
Burning.
I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.
"Evelyn," he growled, "what the hell am I supposed to do? The second I see you, all I can think about is fucking you."
Pinned against the cold wall, I fought the wildfire raging inside me. I wouldn't let it win. But the hunger surged like a tidal wave, drowning my resistance.
I was losing.
God help me, I can't hold on much longer.