Bitter Denial

RONAN

My brother pushed the heavy oak door shut behind him, cutting off my view of the outer office and the woman sitting at the desk. I marched straight to my leather chair and sank into it. I gripped the armrests tight, forcing my jaw to relax.

Dealing with Katarina Voss every single day was my personal hell. It was a waking nightmare of forced proximity and brutal restraint. But this hell reached new, agonizing levels when my younger brother decided to stroll into Mercer Media and flirt shamelessly with her right in front of me. Up until this exact moment, she possessed the basic decency to turn down all his dinner invitations. Nolan lacked that decency.

"You need to stop this right now. It seems you have ignored every single conversation we have ever had about this specific issue." I glared across the desk at him.

"You are right. I ignored it, and I intend to keep ignoring it." Nolan smiled, taking a seat on one of the black couches in the center of my office. He crossed his legs, looking infuriatingly relaxed.

"We will see what you do when you face a formal report for workplace harassment."

"Do not worry about that. Kat would never report me. And if you want to know the truth, I think she is about to give in."

Give in? Was that even possible? No, she would not risk her career for a date. This was just Nolan letting his massive ego dictate his reality. He was blind to how his reckless attitude could negatively impact the entire company dynamic.

"Unbelievable. You know this behavior is unacceptable. She is your subordinate." I kept my voice cold, letting the reprimand echo in the large room.

"She is also a friend of our family. She is an incredibly intelligent and beautiful woman. Why do you not just admit that you are bothered because you are interested in her too?"

Oh, shit. How did he see through that?

"Do not be ridiculous." I kept my expression frozen, refusing to give him a single inch.

"Just admit it, little brother." He laughed, finding immense amusement in my irritation.

If he actually believed I harbored feelings for her, it clearly did not bother him. He treated this like a game.

"What exactly do you want me to admit? That she is irritating and audacious?"

"And very attractive."

"Stop harassing her. You do not know who you are messing with."

"Are you trying to make me laugh? Do you really think you know Kat better than I do? I have known her for much longer than you have."

Nolan possessed the advantage of time, but I would bet every dollar to my name that he did not know the Katarina I dealt with on a daily basis. He got the smiles and the polite rejections. I got the sharp tongue and the defiance.

"Then you should know she can be a shrew."

"I do not know why you try to find every possible fault in her. We both know that if she acts cold toward you, it is because you deserve it. It is no secret that you are a jerk, but you make a specific point of being an asshole to her."

"Do you want to dictate how I manage our employees? Unlike you, I follow the corporate policy. That policy does not include flirting, brother."

"At the very least, you should treat her with some respect. She has done a lot for us, and you know it."

"You talk like I am torturing her, but it is the exact opposite."

"The exact opposite?" He raised an eyebrow, staring at me with sudden intense scrutiny.

My brother possessed a terrifying talent for unraveling people. I always needed to guard my words when speaking about Miss Voss around him. Somehow, over the past few months, he started suspecting my interest.

It was an interest I vehemently denied to myself. I tried to bury it, hide it from everyone, and crush it out of existence. The simple fact was that she was Katarina Voss. That name alone served as a massive warning sign to stay away. Then came the second reason: work. Katarina was my direct subordinate. Any sexual involvement with her would cause a colossal mess for Mercer Media. From her very first day, I knew I had to accept the boundaries and maintain my distance.

I was the boss. I needed to set the standard and follow the rules. But the first time I laid eyes on her in person, I knew she would be a walking temptation. She felt like a divine punishment for every sin I committed in my past. Resisting her cost me my sanity.

Creating constant animosity between us served as my primary strategy to keep her at a distance. It functioned well at the start. The incident where she spilled hot coffee all over my desk definitely cemented the hostility. At the time, the spill happened so perfectly that I swore she did it on purpose. Now that I knew her better, I was convinced it was intentional.

But I failed to account for one crucial detail when I deployed this strategy. I underestimated how dangerous our mutual hatred, irritation, and frustration would become.

Arguing with Miss Voss did not just make me angry. It made me incredibly horny.

I fell right into my own trap. I lost count of how many times her sharp retorts pushed me right to the edge of my control. When we argued, my blood ran hot. I would stare at her moving lips and imagine dragging her across my desk. I wanted to shove something into her mouth just to shut her up, rip her clothes off, and do dirty, degrading things to her until she screamed my name.

Lately, Katarina tormented my sleep. I woke up with aching erections, tangled in my sheets after dreaming about bending her over the office furniture.

Before I even moved back from England, my family constantly praised the wonderful, competent Katarina Voss. I saw her in photographs from company events and family dinners. She always looked sweet and sensual. Her beauty was undeniable. The striking contrast of her dark black hair, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and full lips was a lethal combination. When she wore red lipstick, she looked like a walking wet dream.

I needed to stop thinking about her mouth. I tried to stop for months.

Despite her stunning exterior, I quickly learned the sweet girl in the photos was an illusion. Miss Voss was provocative, annoying, fiercely intelligent, and relentlessly determined.

Everyone at the company knew my standards. I demanded maximum effort and flawless execution. I used this method to achieve every goal in my life. Efficiency and zero mistakes. Despite how much she annoyed me, Katarina was exceptional at her job. If she lacked competence, I would have fired her on day one, regardless of my father's affection for her.

But she matched my relentless pace. We functioned perfectly on a professional level. That dynamic vanished the second work ended. Outside the office, we avoided each other to prevent a bloodbath.

"Where did you go?" Nolan asked, pulling me back to reality.

I cleared my throat, forcing my mind away from the image of Katarina naked.

"What I meant was that you would not last a single week working next to a witch like her."

"Let us be honest. You are a lucky bastard to watch those beautiful legs parade around this office every day, and you know it."

"Enough about her. Can we focus on work? The Delta meeting..."

"I just want to make it clear that I will not back down just because we share a last name. May the best man win."

"Do not be an idiot. Even if I harbored some interest, which I do not, I would never cross that line. You are being irresponsible, and you will deal with the fallout alone."

"I still cannot tell if you care about the rules, or if you are just dripping with jealousy. I bet it is a bit of both."

"I am done with this subject. If you refuse to discuss the presentation starting in less than an hour, you can leave."

"Alright, I said my piece. Now we can talk about work, you addicted jerk."

Nolan let his dick make his decisions too often, but his work performance remained flawless. He was an exceptional asset to the company. But as my younger brother, he considered it his duty to mock my misery.

Even though watching him hit on her made my blood boil, I knew Katarina would never give in. Her career came first. We shared that single, defining trait. Work was the only priority.

After finalizing the campaign details for Delta Airlines, Nolan left the floor. We agreed to meet at their headquarters.

I grabbed my suit jacket and walked out of my office. Miss Voss sat at her desk, flipping through a stack of printed reports.

Today she chose a dark brown lipstick that made her mouth look lush and inviting. She wore a crisp white silk shirt and a tight black pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees. The fabric clung to her hips, making her ass look incredible. She finished the outfit with black stiletto heels that felt like a calculated torture device aimed directly at my sanity.

She picked out every single garment to torment me. She always looked flawless. I cleared my throat to signal my presence. She kept her dark eyes locked on the paper.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yes. I just need a minute before heading downstairs. You can wait for me in the car."

"A minute?"

She let out a long breath. I watched her fight the urge to roll her eyes.

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Alright. I will wait for you right here."

"That is not necessary."

"I am following my brother's advice and trying to be polite. Make this easy, Voss."

"Do whatever you want. It will not change anything." She stood up, grabbed her leather purse, and marched away. "I will be right back."

I stood there and watched her walk. The tight skirt hugged the curve of her round ass with every step she took. Her hips swayed on those stilettos. I shoved my hands into my pockets, brutally forcing away the thought of hiking that skirt up and taking her against the bathroom sink. Now was not the time to lose my mind.

She returned a few minutes later. We walked to the elevator in heavy silence. I pressed the button for the lobby. The metal doors slid shut, trapping us in a small, enclosed box.

Resisting her in tight spaces required a monumental effort. Her perfume filled the air. It smelled like warm vanilla mixed with something sharp and intoxicating. It flooded my lungs. I kept my eyes fixed on the changing floor numbers, clenching my jaw so hard my teeth ached. A recurring wet dream of mine involved slamming the emergency stop button in this exact elevator, backing her into the mirrored wall, and ripping her clothes to shreds.

Having to keep my hands to myself was a physical torment. She was my punishment.

The lobby doors opened. We walked out to the waiting town car. The real challenge was about to begin. I hated off-site meetings purely because I had to share the back seat with her.

I climbed in after her. The heavy car door slammed shut, sealing us in the luxurious, confined space.

"Delta headquarters," I told the driver.

The car pulled into the city traffic. Katarina sat on the opposite side of the leather bench. She crossed her legs. The crisp, electric sound of her nylons sliding together sent a shockwave straight to my groin. I stared out the tinted window, gripping my knees.

Thanks to this woman, I had to wear tight, restrictive underwear to the office just to hide my physical reactions. I hated her for making me feel like a teenager lacking basic impulse control. I focused on the upcoming presentation, running through the financial figures in my head to keep my cock from hardening against my zipper.

The drive took fifteen agonizing minutes. Every time the car turned a corner, her floral and vanilla scent washed over me. I heard her even breathing. I saw the edge of her stiletto bouncing slightly from the corner of my eye. I wanted to reach across the seat, grab her thigh, and spread her legs wide open. I swallowed hard, fighting a brutal war with my own biology.

When the driver finally pulled into the spacious Delta parking lot, I practically threw my door open. I jumped out onto the asphalt, sucking in huge lungfuls of fresh air to purge her scent from my system.

I stood by the rear bumper, waiting for her. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few scattered cars and a security guard patrolling near the distant entrance.

Katarina stepped out of the car. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and walked around the vehicle. She did not wait for me, marching ahead toward the glass doors of the building.

I turned to follow her.

My boots stopped dead on the pavement. My entire body locked up. I forgot how to breathe.

*What the fuck...*

*Jesus Christ, Voss.*

When she visited the bathroom upstairs, she must have been rushing. Her tight black skirt was caught in the waistband of her underwear. The fabric bunched up near her lower back, leaving her entire ass completely exposed to the open air.

My brain short-circuited.

She was wearing black lace panties.

The delicate, sheer lace clung to her skin, barely hiding the deep cleft of her ass. The fabric was so thin I could see the pale, smooth skin underneath. Her ass was perfectly round, firm, and bouncing with every step she took.

But the lace panties were not the thing that destroyed my self-control.

She was wearing a black garter belt.

Thin, elastic straps reached down from the lace waistband, biting into the soft flesh of her upper thighs to hold up her sheer black stockings. The metal clips gleamed in the daylight. The contrast of the dark black lace against her smooth, bare skin was the most obscene, divine sight I had ever witnessed in my entire life.

My cock woke up with violent, furious speed.

Blood rushed south in a heavy surge. Within two seconds, I had a massive, raging erection pressing painfully against the front of my tailored suit trousers. The restriction of my tight underwear did nothing to stop the heavy swelling. My dick throbbed, straining against the zipper.

The sight surpassed every single dirty fantasy I harbored about her. I wanted to step forward, grab her by the hips, and bury my face in that black lace. I wanted to snap those garter straps and fuck her bare ass right here on the hood of my car.

Lust hit me so hard I felt dizzy. But reality crashed down a second later. We were in a public parking lot. Anyone could see her. I had to tell her.

I felt like the biggest creep on the planet for staring, but I could not rip my eyes away from the sheer lace hugging her cheeks.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt like sandpaper. My chest heaved with heavy, panting breaths.

"Voss..." I choked out.

She stopped walking. She let out a loud, irritated sigh and spun around to face me.

"What?" She glared, clearly lacking patience.

My brain scrambled to form words. I stood there, rock hard, staring at her beautiful, angry face. Why was this so damn hard to say?

"Your..." I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to work. "Your skirt is..."

I gave up on speaking and awkwardly gestured with my hand toward her hip.

She frowned, looking deeply confused. She glanced down. Her hand reached back, feeling for the hem of her skirt. Instead of fabric, her fingers brushed directly against the bare skin of her ass cheek and the elastic of her garter belt.

All the blood drained from her face. She turned ghostly pale.

Panic exploded in her dark eyes. She grabbed the bunched-up fabric of her skirt and frantically yanked it down, smoothing it over her hips to hide the lingerie.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," she cursed through her teeth, her voice trembling with horror.

When she finally looked up at me again, her pale face had turned violently crimson. A deep, furious blush covered her cheeks and neck. She could not hold my gaze for more than a fraction of a second. Without saying another word to me, she spun back around and practically sprinted toward the building entrance.

I did not follow her.

I stood paralyzed on the hot asphalt, letting out a long, ragged string of silent curses.

I was stranded in the middle of the Delta parking lot with a massive, aching problem straining against my zipper. The image of her bare ass in that black lace and garter belt was permanently burned into my retinas.

I closed my eyes and groaned, wondering how the hell I was supposed to walk into a corporate boardroom and negotiate a multimillion-dollar contract when my cock felt like solid steel.