Tempted by Eden (Eden #1)

22. James

Chapter twenty-two

James

T he training session was excruciatingly boring, exactly as I’d predicted. Motivating and inspiring teams, emotional intelligence, active listening—all valuable for my employees. But I had to sit there, nodding along like I didn’t have a thousand more productive things to do.

What a monumental waste of time.

The only thing that kept me from losing it completely was Cora sitting next to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, knowing she was bare under her skirt, wet and sticky. The power of that knowledge was almost enough to make the session tolerable.

I’ll admit, the idea of making her wear a vibrator next time, letting me control her pleasure remotely, is tempting. Watching her squirm in need while trying to stay composed would definitely spice up these sessions. Hell, I’d probably attend willingly then.

But that’s dangerous thinking. And Cora’s already bringing out too much of that in me.

Before I can dwell too long on those thoughts, the door to my office opens, and she walks in, accompanied by Dameon. The moment she steps into my office, I feel it again—that unsettling pull in my chest, the one I can’t name. It’s not just lust; it’s deeper, and it lingers too long after she’s gone. Every time I see her, it claws a little further into me, harder to ignore, harder to shake. And I hate it as much as I need it.

Cora is radiant in a tight black dress that perfectly highlights every inch of her body. It’s a battle to keep my composure, especially when all I can think about is bending her over my desk. If only Dameon would fuck off, I could do exactly that.

She takes a seat across from me, her beaming smile momentarily taking my breath away. God, she’s beautiful. Too beautiful. The way her smile reaches her eyes messes with my head. I’m not here for feelings—I’m here for power, for pleasure. Yet, every time she looks at me like that, the foundation shifts beneath me, and it’s a reminder that I’m not in complete control. Not of her, and sure as hell not of myself. This feeling is getting harder to keep buried. Whatever it is, I know one thing: I feel a hell of a lot more alive when she’s around.

“Thank you for meeting with me today,” she starts, her voice smooth and polished, though she flashes a sly smile my way. “And more importantly, thank you both for your active participation in yesterday’s session.” Her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink, and it immediately sends blood rushing south.

I will never tire of making her blush.

She pulls out two reports from her bag, handing one to me and one to Dameon. I flip it open, but my focus is only half engaged—my mind is too occupied with thoughts of her spread across my desk.

“I’ve conducted my research and interviews,” she continues, “and I’ve put together a formal recommendation regarding a few employees.”

I set the report down. “Which is?” I ask, a darkness creeping into my voice. I don’t tolerate any bullshit in my company, especially not when it comes to harassment or bullying. If that’s what this is about, heads will roll.

“There are three employees in upper management,” Cora says carefully, her gaze flicking between Dameon and me. “Jenny King, Allan Davies, and Alysha Holland. I believe they’re at the root of the toxic culture and the workplace bullying that’s responsible for the company’s high staff turnover.”

My blood pressure spikes instantly. Those fuckers. I had my suspicions, but with no concrete evidence, I’d been forced to let it slide. Now, though? I have all the proof I need.

“Consider them gone,” I say coolly.

Cora nods solemnly. “Once they’re out, you should see a significant improvement in morale.”

“Excellent,” Dameon chimes in, his eyes sharp. I know that look. He’s thinking exactly what I am—losing their jobs isn’t punishment enough. But there are limits to what we can do. Legally, at least.

Cora rises from her chair, smoothing her dress. “The next leadership session starts in ten minutes. I’ll see you both there, yes?” She arches a delicate brow.

Dameon groans theatrically, making me chuckle. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he drawls.

Cora claps her hands with exaggerated enthusiasm, a bright smile lighting up her face as she heads for the door. The scent of citrus and vanilla lingers in her wake.

Intoxicating .

When the door closes behind her, Dameon glances up from the report, his expression hard. “They shouldn’t get away with this.”

“They won’t,” I respond, my voice like steel. “They’ll be blacklisted. I’ll make sure they never work in media again.”

For a moment we sit in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

“You know… I like her.”

I frown, not following. “Who?”

“Cora,” Dameon says, lacing his hands behind his head, watching me closely. “She’s good for you.”

I scoff. “She’s good at giving me head, but that’s about it.”

Dameon quirks a brow. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I roll my eyes, tilting back in my chair. “What? You want me to say I like her? That I care?”

He doesn’t answer, just holds my gaze until I look away. I don’t have time for this. For her. For… whatever the fuck this is.

***

By the time Dameon and I step into the auditorium, the session is already underway. I hate being late, but a phone call had been unavoidable. Still, when Cora’s glare locks onto me from across the auditorium, arms crossed and brows drawn, a chuckle slips out.

She’s even more beautiful when she’s pissed.

Dameon takes his seat beside me, clearly just as amused by her annoyance, and we settle in as the speaker starts up again. Today’s topic is something about giving and receiving constructive feedback in the workplace—complete bullshit, if you ask me. I’m not here to hold hands and sing Kumbaya .

Suddenly, the speaker’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Could I ask James to come up on stage?”

I freeze in place. Dameon laughs quietly beside me, attempting to hide his grin behind his hand.

Fuck you , I mouth at him, rising from my seat and reluctantly making my way to the front of the auditorium.

The next thirty minutes are absolute torture. Pure hell. I sit there while the speaker reads anonymous feedback from employees, each comment more infuriating than the last. The speaker then instructs everyone on how to communicate more effectively. A celebrity roasting would be more pleasurable. This is just brutal, like getting fucked in the ass with no lube.

The speaker reads aloud: “James walks around like he’s always in a foul mood. Would it kill him to smile once in a while? Maybe he just needs to get la—” She cuts herself off abruptly, but it’s obvious to me and everyone in the auditorium what she was about to say: laid .

An awkward silence fills the room as the speaker clears her throat. “Well then,” she says, “remember when offering feedback to use phrases like: ‘I see room for improvement here,’ or ‘The team could benefit from,’ or perhaps, ‘A better way to handle this might be…’”

I clench my jaw, glaring out into the audience, daring the asshole who wrote that to make eye contact. No one does, of course. They wouldn’t dream of it.

But then I catch sight of Cora.

She’s shaking with laughter, her shoulders trembling as she tries to hold it in. I narrow my eyes at her, silently promising retribution.

She will pay for this.

The second the session ends, I’m out of my chair, moving fast. My anger builds, gaining momentum with each deliberate step in her direction. Cora’s smile dies quickly when she realizes I’m headed straight for her. Her wide eyes snap onto mine, and for a moment, I feel like a predator about to devour my prey.

When I finally reach her seat, I lean in, bracing myself on the armrests, trapping her beneath me. Our faces are close—too close in this public space—and I can feel the sharp inhale of her breath against my skin. My voice is low, just for her. “Get your ass to my office. Now . I’ve got one-on-one constructive feedback to give you.”

The heat in her eyes is unmistakable. Without another word, I straighten up and walk out of the auditorium, confident that she’ll follow.

Less than five minutes later, there’s a soft knock on my door.

“Come in,” I bark, already loosening my tie. The door swings open, and there she is, standing just inside my office, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her lips parted slightly.

I reach for the remote, frosting the glass walls and locking the door behind her.

“Seems I need to get laid,” I deadpan. Her lips twitch, trying to hide a smile, but it’s no use. Her eyes sparkle, and the corner of my mouth pulls upward before I can stop it.

“Well, if it’ll help improve company morale, sir…” she teases, biting her lip in that way that makes me feral.

“It’ll improve a lot more than that,” I utter, a dark note threading through my words.

Her smile falters for a second, replaced by an expression that’s far more heated. And just like that, we’re back in dangerous territory.

“Bend over my desk,” I command.

Without hesitation, Cora sashays toward me, her hips swaying provocatively. She’s playing this game just as much as I am, and fuck, she’s good at it.

She bends over the desk, flashing me a coy look over her shoulder, and I nearly lose it right then. Her ass, perfectly framed in that dress, looks even better than I imagined.

Fuck .

I can barely hold back as I rise from my chair. The fantasy I’ve been entertaining all morning, all through that mind-numbing and humiliating session, is becoming a reality. And the only thing on my mind is how good she’s going to look with my handprint on her ass.

My eyes are fixed on the curve of her hip as I grip the hem of her dress and yank it up, exposing her smooth, bare skin. She’s wearing black lace panties, and just the sight of them is enough to push me past my limit.

I pull open my drawer, fingers scrambling for a condom as I unbuckle my belt with the other hand. My breath is already ragged. The anticipation, the desire, thrums through my veins like fire.

Once I’ve rolled the condom on, I waste no time. I grab the thin lace of her panties, pulling them to the side with one hand, and run my fingers along her slit. She’s already drenched— so ready for me.

“Good girl,” I growl, unable to stop myself praising her.

She moans softly, arching her back just enough to offer herself to me completely, and that’s all the invitation I need. I position myself behind her, my cock hard and throbbing as I thrust into her with a single, deep stroke.

She gasps, her body jerking forward, and I still for a moment, letting her adjust to my size.

The tight heat of her sears me, delivering a rush of ecstasy that nearly unravels my control. But when she pushes back against me, her body telling me she’s ready, I start to move. I grip her hips hard, holding her steady as I drive into her with relentless force. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the office, mingling with her breathy moans.

Her moans— fuck . They’re the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever heard. She’s so responsive, so eager. Every movement, every sound she makes fuels the fire burning inside me.

Her hair slips easily through my fingers as I gather it in one hand, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp. The sound—it’s everything I need. Her body reacts instantly, arching against me, trembling as I drive into her harder, deeper. Every moan, every sharp intake of breath pushes me closer to oblivion, but I hold back, savoring the way she quivers beneath me, how she’s helpless against the force of her own pleasure.

“Look at me.” I turn her head until her eyes meet mine. They’re wide, glazed with need. “You like this, don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer with words—she doesn’t have to. Her body answers for her, clenching around me with a tight, slick heat that makes my head spin.

She’s close . So close.

The sensation of her pulsing around me, the way she’s completely mine in this moment—it’s too much. Yet it’s not enough.

With my free hand I slap her ass, hard, and the sharp cry she lets out sends another shot of electricity to my balls.

I could do this forever.

“You ready to come for me?” I grit out.

“Yesss,” she wails.

Her body tenses, her muscles contracting as she hurtles toward the brink. I pick up the pace, thrusting faster, harder, chasing that moment when she falls apart in my hands.

And then it happens—her body convulses, her pussy gripping me in a tight vice as she shudders through her orgasm. The sight, the feel of her coming around me, is enough to push me over the cliff with her. With a final, deep thrust, I explode inside her, groaning through my release as pleasure surges through me.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is our shuddering breaths. My chest is heaving, my mind reeling, struggling to make sense of anything beyond the fog of pleasure.

Slowly I pull out, careful not to hurt her, and after tossing the condom, I grab a few tissues from my desk drawer. Cora stays bent over the desk, her body still trembling with aftershocks as I gently wipe her clean. When I’m done, I pull her panties back into place and smooth down her dress, my fingers brushing over her flushed skin.

She doesn’t move for a second, catching her breath, but when she finally pushes up and turns around to face me, there’s a serene smile on her lips, and her eyes are half-mast.

God, she’s beautiful.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is soft—too soft. It’s not the way I planned for this to end. I pull back quickly at the realization that maybe she’s starting to mean something to me. The look in her eyes makes me want to dive back in.

“Dinner. Tonight.” The words slip out, more an order than a question. But there’s a vulnerability beneath the command, a silent plea that I hope she doesn’t notice.

She pauses, eyebrows slowly rising, then her face breaks into one of those bright, beaming smiles that steals the air from my lungs. “Is that an invitation or a demand, sir?”

My breath returns with a shaky inhale. “Does it matter?”