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system that would allow her to increase sales of their budding beer business, with Evan at her shoulder. It had been fun sorting through the dilemma together. His brain ran to organization anyway, so it didn’t take him long to figure it out. He’d used the excuse of being as confounded by it as she was to stay close, taking in deep breaths of her intoxicating combination of perfume and ever-increasing spice – a scent he’d spent the last few weeks identifying during his forays to BDSM lifestyle parties. He clenched his knees under the table, used his newfound control skills to keep his body from reacting to her, yet still maintaining what he believed passed as useful workplace conversation.
    At one point she glanced up at him, away from the screen. He was leaning over her, pretending to study the numbers while raking his gaze across the tops of her breasts. They were not that big, which didn’t do much for him, but had a dusting of freckles across them. And that black bra… He licked his lips, right when she turned her face to his.
    “So, this algorithm here…” She had one short, dark-painted nail on the screen. “It’s… Uh, hello? My face is up here.”
    He shivered, realizing he’d let himself get caught. Anger made him take a step back, run a hand down his rough jaw. She turned to face him and crossed her bare legs slowly. At that moment he knew – as much as he needed to run his tongue over those freckles, she wanted him to do exactly that. She opened her mouth to speak and he sensed himself slipping, losing control, so he reached deep for discipline and decided that getting out of her space was the only possible solution.
    “Uh, sorry.” He turned, bumped his shoulder against the doorway in his haste to escape from the ramped-up need that emanated from her like a visible cloud.
    Stumbling back to his comfort zone amongst the cardboard, his face burned as he commanded himself to be calm. Good practice but painful to be sure. He flopped down on a stack of boxes, heart pounding, mouth dry, and forced the memory of her long legs off his brain where they seemed fairly permanently imprinted. Mistake, Adams. Don’t go there. She is your boss; she is probably ten years older than you and hotter than any woman has a right to be. He looked up at the tall ceiling and took a breath. The clear and somewhat disturbing image of the lovely Caroline on her knees in front of him floated through his lust-addled consciousness: her wrists would be bound, mouth gagged, eyes covered as he walked around her holding his current favorite implement – the butter-soft and effective leather flogger.
    Shit. He had to get out of here, now.
    But the second he stood, he smelled her again and felt the familiar rush of desire, anger, and purpose. He squared his shoulders and turned, his best smile fixed in place. The hesitant, confused, but needy look on her model-perfect face made him take a single step towards her and yank her close, as the black hole yawned, sucking him and his new conquest into its maw.
    Her low voice oozed into his brain. “I know what you want.” She was utter perfection, pressing her body along his, threading her fingers in his hair. He let her walk him a few steps back, behind the taller stacks of inventory they’d just been analyzing.
    His head spun for a second until a strange calm settled over him, reminding him of what he had to do. She needed something from him, and he would give it, not at her command but at his. He kept his movements slow, steady, and unthreatening, but black tendrils of lust were coiling at the base of his brain, comforting him now that he had a slightly better handle on how to use them. He bumped against the concrete block wall, still silent, letting her make all the noise while he concentrated very hard on maintaining control. Her lips made their way along his jaw line, down his neck, and her hands trailed down his t-shirt clad torso, one of them coming to rest along his zipper.