Ian's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "That's between you and him. I don't know the details."
Frustration wells up inside me, mingling with the fear and uncertainty. "But you work for him. You must know what he wants from me."
"I work for him, yes." Ian leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "But I'm not privy to all his business dealings. What I do know is that he values talent and loyalty. And he sees both in you."
The words hang in the air between us, a compliment and a warning wrapped in one.
"I'm just trying to survive," I say, the truth of it burning my throat. "To get through school and make a future for myself."
"I know." Ian's expression softens slightly. "And I respect that. More than you know."
Something in his tone makes my pulse jump. Makes me wonder about the man behind the stoic exterior. The man who stepped in to save me without being asked.
"Why?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "When I’m nothing more than your run of the mill stripper?"
Ian holds my gaze, unblinking. "Because you're strong. You're fighting for something better and you refuse to let this world break you."
His words hit me like a physical force, stealing the air from my lungs. No one has ever seen me like that before.
"I'm not unbreakable," I whisper, the confession scraping my throat raw.
"No one is." Ian's hand twitches on the desk, like he wants to reach for me but thinks better of it. "But you're a survivor. And that's rare in this business."
The air between us feels charged, electric with unspoken tension. I'm suddenly aware of how close we are, separated only by the expanse of his desk. Aware of the way his eyes dip to my lips, just for a moment, before locking back onto mine.
I should leave. Should thank him for his help and walk away before this goes somewhere dangerous. Before I let myself hope for things I can't have.
But I don't move. Don't break the connection crackling between us.
"Claire..." My name is a rumble in his chest, a question and a plea rolled into one.
And something inside me snaps.
I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. Ian watches me, his body coiled tight like a predator, his eyes tracking my every move.
I round the desk, stepping into his space. He looks up at me, his pupils blown wide with hunger, as I place my hands on the armrests of his chair, caging him in.
"You want me," I breathe, my face inches from his. "Tell me you don't."
His eyes blaze into mine, dark with barely leashed desire. "I can't do that."
And then I'm kissing him, my lips crashing against his with a desperation that burns through my veins like wildfire. He responds instantly, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other snaking around my waist to pull me flush against him. His tongue slides against mine, hot and demanding, tasting faintly of coffee and something darker, uniquely him.
I straddle his lap, my knees sinking into the leather chair on either side of his hips. My skirt rides up, the thin fabric of mypanties the only barrier between us. His hands slide under my shirt, calloused fingers stroking the bare skin of my back, leaving trails of electricity in their wake. Every touch brands me, marks me, ruins me for anyone else's hands.
I grind against him, feeling his cock harden beneath me, thick and insistent against my core. A groan rumbles through his chest, vibrating against my breasts, and I swallow the sound with my mouth. I want to consume him. Want him to consume me.
This is reckless. Dangerous. Everything I swore I would never do again. But right now, with his hands mapping my skin like he's discovering new territory, I can't bring myself to care.
I break the kiss, panting, and reach for the buckle of his belt. His hands still mine, gentle but firm.
"Claire, wait." His voice is rough gravel, strained with desire. "We don't have to?—"
"I want to." I cut him off, my fingers deftly undoing his belt, the metallic clink sending a thrill down my spine. I pop the button of his jeans, drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. "I need to."
Understanding flashes in his eyes, followed by a heat that makes my core clench and weep. He lifts his hips, allowing me to tug his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his erection.
I wrap my hand around him, stroking slowly. He's magnificent—thick and long, the head already glistening with precum. My mouth waters at the sight. I circle my thumb over the sensitive tip, spreading the moisture, watching his jaw clench and his eyes flutter.
