Enjoy this tasty chapter and comment on every single line you like!
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He stood there. 

Frozen just like me. 

Maybe not as much though, considering he was used to frost.

But he did look extremely stiff, as his eyes still held mine completing their invasion.

And as Frederick White's words sank down into both of us, both our eyes probably said a lot. A lot. 

At least from my perspective, I could see how his eyes darkened as some sort of wild, yet extremely cold and arrogant fire was ignited in them. They burnt with something deep and unfathomed. Something I could not read or understand, but I could just see. Very clearly. 

On the contrary, I could not really tell what he saw in my eyes, but I could tell one thing.

He could not remove his eyes from them.

I don't really know if the term 'couldn't' can ever be used with the great almight R.E.C., but oh well, I could tell for a fact that he was not removing his gaze or cutting off the eye contact.

I gulped, and his expression slowly seemed to be regaining its composure. 

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't as though he were gaping or showing some kind of expression –God forbid. 

But he had seemed registering the info for some seconds.

And now he no longer was.

Instead, his expression literally went to being stone cold, and yet his eyes remained burning as he stepped closer, not even flinching to break the eye contact. 

Yet my body remained frozen, and I could not decipher what I'm supposed to do.

As he was half a step away from getting in contact with my body, something at the pit of my stomach churned and clenched.

It clenched in anticipation.

Wait, but what?! 

Why?! Why would it be anticipating anything when he was this close and looking this breathtaking?!

Huh?! HUH?

Seconds before coming in contact completely with my entity, my employer took a step to the side. As he nudged my shoulder almost gently, gesturing for me to turn my back to him.

Upon the contact of his fingers against the bare skin of my shoulder, a chill ran over my spine, and I gulped as I turned my back to him. True, I forgot about the Goddamn zipper.

A minute passed.

But he moved not.

And neither did I. 

He stood there behind me, too close, as I could feel his warmth too close against the bare skin of my back. 

I gulped, and tried thinking of anything to say. I really hated awkward silences. 

"Um, I really like Freddie. Thanks for appointing him." I spoke softly, a small smile crossing my lips as I remembered the lovely stylist. He was honestly adorable. "And I really like his taste in style."I chirped, turning my head to eye the mirror which was to my right, as I eyed my look. 

My eyes widened slightly at that, as I noticed that the president's reflection was also shown. 

He was taller and huger than me, with a well-shaped figure wrapped seductively in his very desirable black suit. His profile was perfect, from a hard sculpted jawline, to outlined cheekbones, a chiseled nose, as well as full lips. 

And was looking at...

At me. My back.

He wasn't turned towards the mirror, as though he had not noticed it. 

And his gaze was ultimately focusing into me, as though he were drowning into my back. 

He looked too focused. Too... involved.

I saw him step closer, and his body heat felt closer to my back at that, and I couldn't help the breath that got stuck in my throat. 

"Yes." His confirmation came concise, hard, and frozen cold, as I saw his right hand which had his wristwatch extend up, brushing almost imperceptibly against my bare back, as he held a curved hairlock between his long, steeped fingers, and twirled it around. "I can see he did a fair job." 

I gulped, still eyeing our reflection. 

He looked too focused, as though he was in a world of his own. 

A world where he had one object of study.

Your little Char-pie. 

I licked my lips, not really knowing what to say. 

I saw his fingers let go of my hairlock at that, as they fell back against the top of my spine. 

I shuddered, but his touch remained unfazed, and his gaze was over his hand, his long lashes emphasized in his reflection over the mirror. 

"You know, Thorne, I had been pondering about informing you of this since we'd arrived here." He muttered, his tone low yet composed and ultimately cold. It had some hint of sensation though. A weird and deep sensation which harmonized itself with the touch of his index finger as it traced its way down my spine. It kept on moving down, until it hit something. 

Yes, that thing. 

His fingers froze, and yet his look wavered not, as he kept his hand over that spot over my back, driving my body crazy.

I could literally feel every inch of my body aching.

Aching for more.

I wet my lips, and saw the reflection of his lips part on the mirror, as he spoke:

"It is not too late if you wish to back off from this. I can inform my father that you are ill." His voice came, still low, and yet it was a lot darker now. 

I gulped, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. He just placed the choice out there, dead seriously. 

So I licked my lips, "No. I'm sure about going, Mr. Ellington." I spoke back softly yet sternly. 

Still eyeing our reflection on the mirror, I eyed as his right hand glitched slightly for a second as he tightened his jaw. 

Some seconds passed, and silence welcomed us again. 

I had turned to look before me at that, not really knowing where to look anymore.

But that was when I felt his finger moves. Over my back. 

Over that thing.

Tic!

A slight, almost imperceptible tic was heard, as he did what he did. 

Or should I say.

As he undid what he undid.

Yes, you read right.

A gasp escaped me, as either my hands shift directly, forming a cross over my chest and holding it in place. 

"Y-You... What did you..." I was legit lost on words, as my voice had barely come out in the form of a disbelieving whisper, and my entire body was burning. 

He had un-clipped the strap of my bra.

His fingers remained over the now empty spot, and he moved them not.

From beneath them, my skin tingled in ultimate desire.

Excuse you, Char? Take the thought back, now! What are you thinking?! 

I let out a shaking breath, "M-Mr. Ellington..." I shook under his touch, not knowing what was happening, as I looked at our mirror reflection. 

He was still eyeing his fingers over my back, as though ultimately dazed by his thoughts.

And yet for a second, as a shudder crossed my body under his touch, a blink escaped him, and his eyes widened a little. He directly backed his hand away, keeping his piercing and sharp look over my back.

"I just thought it looked too tightly buckled." He spoke deliberately in a voice so composed and stone cold, yet it seemed extremely... hesitant, as though he'd done something even he didn't realize what it was. 

But the shaking in my entity didn't stop.

It wasn't because of him. Well, technically it was, but I mean it wasn't because I was scared of him.

The shaking was... some kind of adrenaline rush, I can say. It was literally my body trying to tell me that there was something about this man. About his touch.

That my body... needed? Wanted? 

Good lord, Charlotte stop! '

But that didn't seem as clear to him, for I could see in his reflection, as for a second, his look roamed over my shaking entity, before he closed the distance between us.

Yes, you read right again.

His broad, warm, and muscular chest came against my back. My bare, bra-less, back. 

And his huge, warm, and hard hands came against either my shoulders pulling me back against him. 

From over the mirror, I could no longer see his face, as his head came to my left side slightly, while the mirror was to my right. 

Oh but I could see his body language too well.

And it was mesmerizing.

It was honestly impossible to believe how different we looked from a third perspective. 

For me, the only thing I could feel was this confident, hard, and drugging touch thoughtlessly pulling me back against him. Dominantly fixing me against his hard chest.

Yet when looking at the reflection, I saw something else.

He looked as though he were in a fight. 

Against himself.

His hands were pulling me back against him, and yet his muscles were popped, and he looked as though he was trying to get himself to push me away.

As though he really wanted to get himself away from me, but he...

The great, almighty, one and only he...

Was not able to keep himself under control.

From beside my left ear, his warm breath fanned it making the hair at my spine stand erect.

"I would never force you into anything, Thorne." 

His tone was best described as a sudden wave which crashed when no one expected it. It was thoughtless, spontaneous, and yet it was deep and harsh and fierce. 

I gasped, but could not muster any words out. 

"From the mere scene of how you greeted Harold, I could infer you were not ready to face my father." He spoke very slowly, as though someone had decreased his talking speed. But I could tell this tone, it was that when Rickard Ellington Conway wanted to be extremely careful about his word choice. "And as a result of that, I gave you the choice, once again a minute ago." 

I gulped, as my heart beat rate suddenly picked up madly. For a second, I could feel my heart about to burst, as its rate picked up faster than a Ferrari car being prepared for a race. 

His fingers over my shoulders tightened slightly at that, and every single skin cell beneath his steeped and manly fingers danced happily as it created waves of desire to cross my body. 

"I will never push you into anything you are not ready for." There was something about this coldness in his voice. It was chilly, thoughtless, but with a sense of vulnerability. –Wha-What?! "You don't have a reason to be scared of me." He continued, his voice tone dropping beneath zero degrees, and yet at the same time sending ultimate heat waves into my stomach. 

I let out a low and shaking breath at that as my system started crashing. 

Good lord, I... I literally could not think of anything to say...

Oh but it seemed my mouth was not really waiting for my brain to think.

But for my body and that... beating organ in my chest.

"I-I'm not scared of you." My voice came in the form of whisper. A soft, and clearly... wanting whisper. 

A clear inhale of breath escaped him, as though he did not see this coming. As though this humble secretary of a Charlotte Thorne, had taken his majesty Rickard Ellington Conway by surprise.

His grip over my shoulders tightened at that, and a soft almost inaudible gasp escaped me, as his head came down. 

Over my neck. 

His lips were the first thing to rest over the crook of my neck, the one connecting my shoulder to my neck, and my breath suddenly stuck to my throat. 

Good lord...

Good lord... 

My system is...

Dear Miss Charlotte Thorne, our service system seems to be currently facing some technical issues, for better results, please try again later. 

My system had failed completely.

Especially as those full burning lips against my neck moved slowly, druggingly, and painfully seducing.

"Cielì, devi davvero imparare a tacere." 

**Cielì, devi davvero imparare a tacere: Heavens, you really have to learn how to remain silent.**

And that was it, my system failed completely, as his lips started moving against my skin.

And here's a hint: they were not moving because he was speaking. 

No, it was something else. 

It was real and concretely felt against my sensitive skin.

His lips were kissing my skin. 

They moved against the crook, and at that moment, everything around me felt spinning. His kiss was like a literal drug that made my head spin. I was seeing double, as my breathing became unstable. 

He didn't seem to be planning to stop anytime soon, as his hands tightened further against my shoulders, and his full warm lips captured every millimeter of skin beneath them. 

I wanted to say something, I really did, but I couldn't. His kiss had scattered my thoughts all over the place, and there was no way I could gather them in a sentence anytime soon. So all that came out of me was uneven breaths, as my natural tendency to move my left hand up acted. 

I moved my hand up, reaching for his hair, his head... just to keep it over my neck. Just to keep this divine sensation on.

I could not resist. I tried to think logically. I tried to gather my thoughts what this was and why it can't happen. 

But such thoughts seemed too clouded. 

And what seemed easiest was to just follow the feeling invading my body randomly. 

Just go with the flow.

Seconds before my hand touched his hair, a huge, hard, and masculine hand came over my wrist, and my left shoulder felt so cold with the absence of the hand that was over it. 

Hey, come back here you...!

"Not the hair. I do not have the time to re-arrange it before we depart." His voice came throaty, deep, icy, and yet breathless, clearly showing some signs of being... affected? 

But then another thought occurred to me. 

You... You are still conscious enough about your hair style being ruined.You still remember we have a ball in less than an hour.

You're still relatively conscious about what's going on.

Does this mean you're doing all of this— My thoughts shot to every single burning sensation within my body —while you're still in control of your actions? I mean, while you're still able to think rationally? 

Despite his hard hand holding the wrist of my left hand, my thin feminine fingers moved on their own, as they made soft and gentle caresses against his hard outlined jawline. 

His hand let go of my wrist, as it came back to my bare shoulder, warming it again and setting my body on fire further. 

And his lips continued moving again. 

My left hand, on a will of its own, moved over his angled jawline, as though trying to keep him there, and my breath became very un-ordered.

Good lord, just... what was he doing to me?!

Slightly arcing my head in the direction of his, I noticed his hard burning gaze was directed at something. 

It was dark, burning cold and arrogant, and yet it had one major, and this time very clearly dominant element competing against the coldness and arrogance which are always dominant in his looks. 

It had lust. 

A dark, deeply engraved, and ice-dipped lust. 

As the line of his gaze fell on... 

I gasped softly as I followed it. Wait a second!

It occurred to me at that, that my hands had gone from before my chest a minute ago when I reached out for his hair, and as a result for the revealing nature of the dress, in addition to my unbuckled brassiere, he could see a good portion of my generous cleavage. 

My entire entity flushed at the thought, and what felt most weird was the fact that, at the thought, my body did not shiver with fear or a feeling of harassment, rather with complete want and desire. It ached to be touched by him like never before in my life. Good God, what is happening to me?!

As though the battle against himself was hitting a climax, my blurry vision watched as he tore his gaze off through shutting his beauteous, deep ocean eyes, and kissing harder against my neck, as though he were trying to limit his focus to just this. 

My breathing became even heavier, and my left hand moved from over his jaw on to his neck, as though signalling for him not to stop.

But then it hit me, feet away over the bed, my phone seemed to have received some notification which caused its screen to light up, and the clock was shown on the screen. 

It was almost six ten. 

I gasped, my breath still uneven, "Mr. Ellington, the-the time..." I managed out, my voice raspy. 

He was unfazed, as he gripped harder against my shoulders, and his lips continued to move with ultimate seduction and skills over my skin.

"I... We're going to be lat–" My voice disappeared, as I eyed our reflection on the mirror again, and I saw it again. How harsh the battle against his own self was. A man as proud and ice cold as Rickard Ellington Conway, feuding against his manly desires.

His neck muscles popped out, and even his biceps seemed hard beneath his immaculately scathed suit. 

"Sto provando." He murmured against my skin, "Ma il tuo profumo..." 

**Sto provando: I'm trying
Ma il tuo profumo: But your scent** 

Huh? Well, the last word did sound like perfume... 

"And your dressing..." His voice deepened to the core of hell with ultimate darkness and dominance, as hands moved from over my shoulders. 

My throat went dry, as I felt my breath escape me loudly and unevenly. 

My perfume and my dressing? What was up with them?! 

"Santa Cielo." His huge, and muscular wrists crossed against my chest, as his right hand came over my left shoulder, and his left one came over my right shoulder, as he hugged me back against him. 

At this point I could feel every single muscle of his sculpted figure against my bare back, and I felt my legs go weak. 

**Santa Cielo: Good heavens (considered an Italian interjection phrase)** 

"Ho davvero bisogno di smettere."

And his lips finally departed from my neck, as his forehead came down instead, and he just laid it there roasting my skin. 

**Ho davvero bisogno di smettere: I really need to stop.** 

I didn't get what he said, but it did occur to me what he was trying to do.

What he did at last, the way he hugged my front, as though to cover up the revealed part of my chest that was... invading his line of sight, the way he laid his forehead against my shoulder as though to calm down... 

He was trying to stop himself. I could tell he really was. 

My uneven breathing slowly started calming down, as he remained against me, not a single muscle of his six ft. one figure moving. 

Distant voices were heard coming closer, and I directly recognized who it was. 

I shuddered, jumping slightly in stunt. 

Alba and Freddie! 

From above me, the cool Adam straightened, wordless, as he turned me to face the mirror, and with that, his back was towards the door, so whoever came couldn't see what he was doing. 

I eyed my flushed state over the mirror, as the man behind me fixed his gaze over my back. 

"I..." He paused, his lips still parted, and his expression still as hard as ever, yet he seemed at an ultimate loss of vocabs, "Pardon me for this." A tic was heard, and I felt my bra steady again. 

He did not look into my