POV – Catriona
The silence in Shawn's office stretched longer than either of us expected. It wasn't empty—it was alive, charged, vibrating in the spaces between our breaths. Every second thickened the air, pressing against my skin, making it almost unbearable to think about anything else.
His hand rested lightly on my jaw, not holding, not commanding—just there. But the warmth of his touch ignited a fire beneath my skin, a pull I couldn't resist. Every nerve ending screamed, every breath caught in my throat. I wanted to melt into him, let the heat take over entirely.
"You're very quiet," he murmured, low and intimate, as if he were speaking just to me.
"I'm thinking," I whispered back, my own voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.
His lips curved faintly, that signature smirk that always unnerved me. "Dangerous."
I swallowed, trying to steady my racing pulse. "About the choice you mentioned."
His gaze darkened, a flicker of something raw and sharp passing through his usually controlled eyes. "And?" He leaned closer, each inch sending shivers down my spine.
"You never told me the consequences," I admitted, my voice betraying me despite my attempt at calm.
"You already know them," he said, steady, unwavering.
The words hit me harder than I expected. Outside, the city lights sparkled across the skyline, but here, inside, the office felt warmer, smaller, like it was closing in on us. I was acutely aware of every inch of him—his scent, the weight of his chest near mine, the subtle thrum of heat that radiated from his skin.
"You're the CEO," I said, almost accusing, but my lips were soft, betraying my tension.
"Yes."
"And I work for you."
"Yes."
The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. A line neither of us had crossed—until now.
His thumb brushed along my jaw, a deliberate, tantalizing movement that sent shivers through me. "Does that make you hesitate?" he asked, his voice husky.
"No." The word slipped out before I could stop it. And I saw it—the crack in his perfect composure. Something primal, something raw, flickered in his gaze, igniting the air between us.
"Catriona…" He said my name with a weight I hadn't heard before. It was warning, confession, and surrender all at once. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
"Maybe I do." The challenge in my voice surprised even me. I wanted him to feel it, the same fire I'd been containing for months.
His hand slid from my jaw to my neck, tracing the pulse beneath his fingertips, deliberate, slow. "And that doesn't concern you?"
"No," I whispered, leaning into his touch without thinking.
His breath slowed, chest rising and falling in controlled rhythm. "You should be concerned."
"Why?"
"Because if you keep looking at me like that…" His jaw tightened. For the first time, Shawn Reid looked dangerously close to losing control.
"Like what?" I whispered.
"Like you want me to stop pretending."
The words ignited something wild in me. My defenses shattered. My hands found the front of his shirt, gripping, pressing him closer. Our bodies aligned almost instinctively, heat radiating from the contact.
I closed the distance. Just a few inches—but that was enough.
His hand moved to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and our lips met in a rush of heat and longing. The kiss was demanding, urgent, and all restraint dissolved. My fingers tangled in his shirt, nails grazing his skin through the fabric. He pressed into me, tongue tracing, exploring, claiming. Every second felt suspended in fire, the world outside gone.
I felt his hands roam my back, down my spine, anchoring me to him. My chest pressed against his, our breaths mingling, mingled heat and shared desire in every exhale. My knees weakened, my thoughts blurred—there was only him, only the burn of his lips and the magnetic pull between us.
Then—
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
We froze. He pulled back slightly, just enough to glance toward the door, chest rising fast, eyes dark and wild. The sudden emptiness where his lips had been left me dizzy, craving, aching.
"Someone's still here," I whispered, voice shaking with a mix of fear and lingering desire.
"No one should be." His voice was rough, protective, dangerous.
The shadow outside the door hesitated. The handle turned slightly.
My pulse raced in tandem with his. Shawn's hand stayed at my waist, firm, holding me in place. His gaze met mine—vulnerable, human, raw. In that moment, all his power and control slipped away. He was as caught in this storm as I was.
The footsteps stopped. Silence fell, heavier than before.
I exhaled shakily. His grip loosened, but only slightly. His eyes lingered on my lips, betraying everything he refused to say.
"We shouldn't…" I started, but the words faltered.
"No," he whispered, jaw tight, voice low, almost painful. "We shouldn't."
But the subtle brush of his thumb against my waist, the way his chest rose closer to mine, the intensity of his gaze… none of it denied the truth. Neither of us wanted to stop.
The breaking point had come—and we had crossed it.