Amelia was standing some distance away from his borrowed desk, clutching some papers nervously in her dainty hands, asking him something or other, her voice barely audible and nervous at the same time. Everything about Amelia was adorable and innocent. Her thickly rimmed glasses. Her petite height. Her plain brown hair drawn up in a ponytail. Her small pert breasts and her pert bum. Her sensible office outfit of white shirt and knee-length grey skirt and sensible black ballet flat shoes. Not a touch of makeup. He had learned she had just graduated from university. She seemed more girl than young woman. There must be at least a decade in age between them, approaching two.
Richard had shown a heroic level of restraint in his opinion. Amelia had teased him all week with her particular nervousness and deference around him, looking up at him with wide and innocent brown eyes. Overreacting at being near him, her breath and speech disturbed, jumping away at any accidental contact. She had made concentrating on this consulting job difficult. He knew many women found his dark silver fox looks appealing. The signs were there. The signs that she didn't know why she was reacting the way she did were there too.
Richard was a predator. Amelia's reaction to him awakened a desire to hunt, to conquer, to claim his prey as prize. Now she was in his office, on a weekend, with no one around. She probably didn't really know what she was doing and what danger she had perhaps unwittingly invited. It didn't matter.
Richard got up slowly, staring at Amelia, enjoying her discomfort. She looked away, downwards, then seemed to peek up at him, beneath her eyelashes.
Richard thought to himself that a sensible girl would have really found an excuse and left the room at his prowling approach towards her. The tense silence stretched in between them as he stopped in front of her, towering over her, inspected her from top to bottom, his dark-eyed gaze intense and almost a physical thing dragging down across her body.
"S-sir?"
"Amelia. Sit." He indicated one of the armchairs in front of the desk, stepping to the side to let her past him as she obeyed.
Then he locked the office door. "Just making sure we are not disturbed... I want to have a word with you."
"H-have I done something wrong, sir?"
Richard settled himself in the chair opposite her, long limbs clad in his dark suit. He loosened his grey tie and took it off, placing it on the desk next to him, as he spoke to her. "Not as such, exactly. I am wondering what a young woman like you is doing in the office on the weekend. Work-life balance is important. Do you have a boyfriend?"
Was that faint pink sheen painting her cheeks? "I-I do."
"You do." Richard said flatly, undoing some of the buttons of his pristine white shirt.
"His name?"
She chewed on her plump pink bottom lip. "Tom."
"Right. Why aren't you snuggled up with Tom instead of bothering me?"
Amelia protested. "I am trying to be helpful. Just pointing out that -"
He cut her off impatiently. "I am sure you are, but I don't need help and didn't ask for it. I asked you why you're here doing work instead of enjoying Tom's company." Met with continued silence, Richard's inner devil was unable to resist. "Oh I know, Tom must be terrible in bed."
Amelia met his eyes, genuinely shocked. Then a true blush suffused her skin and she looked away, fidgeting. Richard looked at her searchingly. She really should have said something. Denial. Assertion. Telling him it was none of his business.
"You have slept with him, haven't you?"
She closed her eyes tightly, a slight shake to her head giving her away.
"You haven't?!"
Amelia's voice finally made a reappearance. "I haven't with any..." she abruptly stopped, blush intensifying further.
"Oh I see." Richard said quietly. He stood up again, took off his black suit jacket. Rolled up his sleeves, revealing the black hair on his forearms on his golden skin, courtesy of his mixed Italian-English heritage. All the while he could feel Amelia watching him.
He really should leave her alone. But her whole manner was as if she was waving a red flag. And he was the bull. Not one he could resist any longer. Time to play.
He leaned over her, hands resting on either side of her armchair. Her breath sped up, pupils dilated. Fear? Arousal? Both? "Maybe the right man hasn't come along yet, hmm?" Richard lowered his face to hers. She tried to avoid him, but he had effectively trapped her within the chair, with not much room for manoeuvring.
"What are you doing?"
