Chapter 17: Part 4 - Delirious Desires

= Sarah POV =

I didn't even turn around as I snapped, "Yeah, I said it. I turn around, and in the next second, you're feeding her cake, flirting like it's no big deal. You're breathtaking, and everyone wants a piece of you. But how am I supposed to fall in love with you if you're always so damn unavailable?"

I kicked the chair at the desk, the frustration spilling out of me, but I couldn't shake the image of her with that woman—her lips so damn close, those perfect lips. It burned hotter than I'd expected.

Chris moved like lightning, closing the space between us in two strides, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly, pulling me to face her.

"Sarah," she growled, her voice low and commanding. "Now is not the time for this jealous garble. You're cold, feverish, and if you stay in those wet clothes, you'll get sick. Change. Then we can talk about whatever misconceptions you have about me."

She released me with a shove that left my heart hammering. I barely registered the ache in my shoulders before she turned and started walking to the door.

But I couldn't just let her walk away. I was burning up—my chest, my cheeks, everything. Hot with frustration, with longing.

I crossed my arms and stared at her retreating back. I hated how right she was, but I couldn't stop myself from feeling this way. I clenched my fists, the anger now tinged with something else entirely.

"Make me," I snapped, my voice a challenge as I grinned, daring her to call my bluff.

Chris froze.

I could feel the air crackling now, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, every unspoken desire hanging between us. Her back was to me, but I saw her stiffen, her jaw tightening. Slowly, deliberately, she turned around, her eyes locking onto mine.

She was so close now, too close, and I could feel the heat coming off her. But there was no hiding the hunger in her eyes.

"You want this, don't you?" Chris's voice was thick, low, the challenge now in her gaze as she slowly took a step toward me. Her body radiated warmth as she closed the distance between us, like fire and ice in the same breath.

"Yeah, take responsibility," I muttered, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. "The flour from your department ruined my outfit. You got me into this mess, not me." I knew I sounded crazy, delirious, caught in the heat of the moment.

Without another word, Chris' eyes flashed with a dangerous glint and before I knew what was happening, she scooped me up, her arms strong as she lifted me effortlessly, and then slammed me down on the desk, the impact making me gasp.

"Firstly," she said, her voice dripping with authority, "you tripped and knocked over twelve trays of proofing dough all on your own. I wasn't even close to you, princess." Her hands moved quickly, yanking my damp cream top off my body, throwing it carelessly to the floor, and I shivered as the cool air hit my skin.

"Secondly," she continued, her voice lower now, almost a growl, "I think you've forgotten your place. You're my tenant. You pay for your room with your body, and right now..." She glanced down at me, her gaze turning possessive, "this body belongs to me."

I didn't have time to react before she was unzipping my skirt, her hands rough and urgent as she tore it off me, throwing it aside. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline mixing with the heat of her words, and my mind spun. My body ached for her, but the reality of her words, her control, hit me with such intensity I could barely keep up.

"And thirdly," Chris growled, her hands working quickly to strip me of the last layers of fabric, "everything I do is none of your business. I don't even have to be here helping you. I should be heading home, getting some rest for my shift later this afternoon. But right now, I'm here, and I'm going to take care of you."

Her voice was rough, commanding, and I couldn't stop the shiver that ran through me. As she pulled at my leggings, they ripped, fabric tearing under the force of her movements, and I moaned at the feeling of being undone so completely.

"You talk about responsibility," she continued, her eyes dark and full of hunger, "so why don't you take responsibility for how turned on you've made me? With your wet blouse sticking to your skin and your tight skirt clinging to your ass in such an erotic way."

She moved in close, her lips crashing against mine with a force that took my breath away. The kiss was rough, hungry, bruising. She devoured me, taking everything I had to give and more. I couldn't help but respond, my hands gripping her shirt, pulling her closer, desperate to feel more of her, to lose myself in her touch.

As she drew back, our lips barely brushing, her breath warm against my face, I couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. "Chris, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I don't know why I said those things. You're right... I did make a mess of myself. I didn't mean it."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze dark and filled with intention. "You might not know what's come over you," she said, her voice husky, low, sending shivers down my spine. "But I know exactly what's going on. Right now, right here, I want to see you overcome in more ways than one."

She slipped a hand into my hair, cupping the back of my head and pulling me back into the kiss. Her lips were warm, soft, and commanding, as if she was marking me, claiming me. And I couldn't bring myself to pull away. Instead, I let her guide me, let her take me as I melted into her embrace, lost in the promise of what was coming.