I’m not a falls-for-the-bad-boy kind of girl. I’m a straight A’s kind of girl; a happy-with-the-teacher’s-praise kind of girl.

So how did I end up here?

“You want to do what?” I squeak, hoping against all hell that I heard him wrong. He can’t have said that, can he?

“Tie you up,” Nate says, like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. He’s so close to me. I can almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s licking at me: caressing me; or maybe that’s just the burning redness of my cheeks.

“What: you mean like Fifty Shades?” I ask, scrunching my hands up into balls. I want to find somewhere to hide. I’m fully clothed, but I feel naked as the day I was born: naked. Do not think about that word. But it’s too late: an image of Nate’s body flashes into my mind. It’s graphic. I see the V at his hips, the happy trail of hair leading down to his…

Nate grins. “You’ve thought about it? Funny, you didn’t strike me –”

“No!” I protest, lying through my teeth. “I never –”

Nate takes a step forward, grabbing my left hand and bringing it up towards his chest. His skin burns mine. Suddenly, all I can think of is my breath: in, out; in, out. I have to remember how to do all the things my body should be doing for me automatically.

“I can see that,” he smiles. It’s a wicked grin, like he’s picturing undressing me in his mind: picturing doing things to me; dirty things. “Little Miss Perfect, all tucked up in bed at night. A little toy in the drawer beside her…”

I clench my legs together. God, I’m bathing in his scent. It’s spicy, masculine, and all I can smell.

“I don’t have…” I whimper. I lie.

“You don’t have what -- a toy? Hmmm … Maybe you’re a fingers girl. Are you, Kim?”

He lifts my hand, caressing my fingers and studying them. “The thing is, Kim, I think you’re a liar: a dirty little liar. Would you do that to me?”

“What?” I croak.

“I can hear you through the walls,” Nate grins. His eyes are locked on mine. I’m drowning in them. They’re like tractor beams, pulling me inexorably inward. I gulp. There’s no way what he’s saying can be true. Is there? My bedroom’s the other side of the hall…

“You’re lying!” I stammer.

Nate drops my hand, and it feels cold. All I want is to feel his touch once more. He licks his lips. Now I’m desperate for the touch of his tongue, and to taste his mouth on mine.

“Maybe,” he says in a low rumble, “maybe not. Do you think of me, Kim, when you touch yourself?”

I don’t know how he can be so direct. He’s so cocky, so confident. My tongue’s stuck fast. Whatever I say, it’s a trap. I need to run away from this man.

“I don’t…” I whisper.

“Don’t what?” He asks, a fire burning in his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement as he watches me twist in the wind. “You don’t touch yourself, Kim?”

I run my tongue across parched lips. What the hell am I supposed to say?

“Or you don’t think about me?”

He leans in, until his lips hover no more than an inch from my ear. His heat burns my cheek. He trails a finger down my torso. “Because,” he growls, “I don’t believe either is true. So which is it, Kiss?”

I shiver at the nickname.

“Nate, please,” I moan, “we’re at work. Anyone could –”

He chuckles, pulling my body against his. My left heel falls away, and he lifts my entire weight, crushing me against the plate glass window. I close my eyes, pretending that if I can’t see him, then he can’t see me.

"– See? Maybe that’s what I want,” he says, pressing his head into my hair and breathing in deeply through his nostrils, “maybe I want to show you off, Kiss. Would you do that – for me?”

My legs tremble. Hell, I’d do anything for this man. If you let me go, I’m not sure I’ll be able to bear my own weight.

“Nate…”

“When you make up your mind, Kiss,” he whispers into my hair, “I’ll be waiting. You know where I am.”

He drops me, and my bare foot grazes the carpet. Static electricity crackles, and sends a shock rampaging through my body. I push back against the wall, and run a hand through my hair, swallowing hard. By the time I can bring myself to open my eyes, Nate’s gone.

My breathing is ragged, and I’m burning up inside. I’m drunk off his touch. I’m like an addict, no matter how much he gives me, I’m desperate for more.

I’m in too deep. Nate’s not the kind of guy for a girl like me. How the hell did I get here?