SOPHIA’S POV
The edge of the desk dug into my thighs, hardwood pressing through the thin fabric of my dress.
My heart hammered wildly in my chest. I wanted to fight him, tried to shove him off, but the strength in his hands and the press of his hips kept me pinned in place.
“Look at you,” he growled, his lips hovering over the back of my neck, hot against my skin. “So wound up, so desperate. All this fire, and I get to hold it in my hands.”
I tried to twist, to turn around, to push him off, but his grip tightened. One hand clamped over my hip, keeping me bent, while the other slid under my dress again, teasing, pressing, and coaxing my core.
My breath hitched. I hated that he knew exactly how to push me to the edge.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I hissed, my voice trembling with
