Straight To Work

Justin's dark charm was working overtime, and he could see it in her eyes—the subtle flare of her pupils, the way her breath hitched when he leaned just a little closer.

Adams might have been playing tough, but her lust meter practically screamed she wasn't immune to him. Even with the weight of his words pressing down on her, she was hanging on every syllable, caught in a push-pull of intimidation and seduction.

"You know," he murmured, his voice dipping low, "the senator didn't have anyone close that night. No family, no staff. Just a change in his security detail at the hotel, right before he... exited the stage." His words hung in the air like smoke, curling around her as he took a step back.

Justin moved with easy confidence, sauntering over to the sleek bar cart.

He grabbed two glasses and poured wine, the deep red liquid swirling like blood in the crystal. Handing one to Adams, he let his fingers brush hers deliberately, the contact lingering just a second too long.

"After the investigation," he continued, taking a slow sip, "they found out the good senator had some... unsettled debts. Mafia connections, apparently. Big ones. And wouldn't you know it—right around the time he stepped into office, you joined the agency and you were so good that mother chose you as the capable client when the senator came for one..."

Adams' eyes flickered, but she nodded, her grip on the glass tightening. "What are you getting at, Mr. Justin?" she asked, her voice low but sharp as she set her drink down and stepped closer.

Justin leaned against the desk, his dark gaze locking onto hers, the intensity making her pause mid-step. She was close now, so close he could see the faint shimmer of her lip gloss, the way her cleavage teased just beneath her blazer.

His smile was lazy, deliberate, like a cat playing with its food.

"Oh, nothing really. Just a bit curious." He took another sip of wine before dropping the bombshell with an almost bored tone. "How's your father doing these days?"

Adams froze. Her eyes widened, her confidence cracking like glass under pressure. She took an instinctive step back, but Justin moved faster, setting his glass down and grabbing her waist. His grip was firm, steady, and before she could react, he'd turned the tables—literally.

She was the one on the desk now, her back pressed against the cool surface as he leaned over her, their faces mere inches apart.

"Given your reaction," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, "I'm guessing you're not the orphan you've always claimed to be."

Adams opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her chest heaved slightly, her breath quickening as Justin's smirk deepened.

"I wonder," he mused, his tone dripping with mock curiosity, "what kind of reward the government might hand out for bringing them the senator's killer?"

Her fight instinct kicked in. Instead of pushing him away, her hands slid up to wrap around his neck, her lips finding the curve of his jaw. She kissed him, slow and deliberate, her nails grazing the back of his neck.

Her body pressed against his like she thought this was her way out.

Justin's eyes flashed with amusement as he let her think she had the upper hand for all of two seconds. Then, with a smirk, he gripped her waist and lifted her fully onto the desk, her skirt riding up dangerously high.

"You see..." he murmured, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, his finger trailing up her neck, slow and teasing. When he reached her cleavage, he let his finger linger, his smirk widening. "I wouldn't have cared about your past if you hadn't gotten greedy. But you had to come for my agency? The audacity."

Adams froze, her seductive act faltering as his words cut through. Her lips parted like she wanted to protest, but Justin's grip on her waist tightened, his dominance unmistakable.

"You thought you could play me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, dangerous and intimate. "Laughable."

She held the slit of her skirt slided open just enough to show off her toned thigh with every step. The silver streaks in her dyed hair caught the light, and her lips—glossy and perfectly curved—parted in a calculated smile.

They were close enough that he could catch the faint trace of her perfume, something warm and spicy that seemed to cling to the air between them. Her cleavage was unapologetically on display, the delicate fabric of her blouse struggling to contain her curves. She leaned in, her manicured nails brushing over his colar as she adjusted it like it had offended her somehow.

"Mr. Justin," she murmured, her voice low and syrupy, "you've been asking an awful lot of questions tonight. Don't you think it's time I... changed the subject?"

His eyes flicked down to her hand on his neck, then slowly back up to her face. The smirk on his lips didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—a challenge. "Oh?" he drawled, setting the wine glass down on the desk beside him. "And what exactly did you have in mind, Ms. Adams?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she stepped closer, her knee brushing against his thigh. Her fingers trailed up from his neck to his chest, her nails grazing his skin, letting her touch linger just enough to tease but not enough to commit.

"You're tense," she said, tilting her head. Her silver hair fell over one shoulder, exposing her neck and the subtle curve of her collarbone. "Running an agency must be exhausting."

Justin chuckled, the sound low and rough. "You think I need you to help me relax?" His hand moved to her waist, the contact casual but firm enough to make a point.

She didn't back down. If anything, she leaned into him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "I think you're curious. About me. About what I can do."

Justin's hand tightened on her waist, his thumb tracing a slow circle against her hip. "You talk a big game, Adams. But I don't play with amateurs."

Her laugh was soft, almost breathless, as she pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. "Amateur? Oh, honey," she said, her voice dripping with mockery, "you couldn't handle me if you tried."

The tension between them was electric, the kind of pull that could either spark or explode.

Justin's gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then lower, tracing the curve of her neck, the swell of her chest. She knew exactly what she was doing, and so did he.

"Is that right?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. He slid his other hand to her lower back, pulling her closer until her body was flush against his. "Then why don't you show me?"

Adams smirked, her confidence unwavering. She pressed her hands flat against his chest, her nails lightly digging into the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his jawline, leaving a ghost of a kiss as her breath warmed his skin.

But Justin wasn't about to let her win this round. Before she could pull away, he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with a dark, dangerous heat.

"Nice try," he murmured, his lips barely an inch from hers. "But if you think you can distract me that easily, you're in over your head."

Adams arched a brow, her smirk turning into a full-on grin. "Oh, sweetheart," she purred, "I haven't even started yet."

The room seemed to shrink around them, the space between their bodies practically nonexistent as the battle continued.

She pressed her lips to his, slow at first, testing the waters, but it didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. Justin responded with equal intensity, his hands sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair.

It wasn't just a kiss—it was a power struggle. Her nails scraped lightly against his neck, and his grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her even closer. Every movement, every touch, was a challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing harder, their gazes locked in a silent war. Adams' lips were swollen, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction, but Justin's smirk was firmly in place.

"You're good," he admitted, his voice rough with amusement. "But you're not that good."

Her laugh was soft but full of confidence as she stepped back, straightening her blouse and smoothing her skirt like she hadn't just turned his office into a battlefield. "We'll see about that," she said, her tone sweet but laced with challenge.

Justin watched her, his smirk widening as he leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "Careful, Adams," he said, his voice low and teasing. "You might just find out what happens when you play with fire."

Her only response was a sly smile as she turned on her heel, her hips swaying deliberately as she walked away. Justin's eyes followed her, his mind already planning his next move. The game was far from over.