Her back arched against the polished boardroom table, breath catching as the weight of him pressed down. His mouth devoured hers, firm hands sliding against her waist, fire spilling through her veins. His suit jacket brushed her arm as though he'd ripped it away in haste, desperate to get closer.
"Lucas…" The name slipped from her lips, trembling.
He groaned into her mouth, tilting her face as if she already belonged to him.
"Say it again," he murmured hot against her ear.
"Lucas," she gasped, clutching his shoulders, nails digging into expensive fabric as if holding on would stop the moment from ending.
When his lips trailed down her throat, slow and dangerous, her eyes fluttered shut.
"Please," she whispered, helpless. "Don't stop!!"
"Miss Thompson?"
Her eyes flew open.
The boardroom swam back into focus. Bright lights. Twelve interns around a glossy table. The sharp scent of leather and cologne, utterly professional. And at the head of the table sat Lucas Stratton, fully clothed, perfectly composed, watching her.
"Any questions?" His voice was smooth, unbothered.
Lena nearly choked. Her pen skidded across the page, leaving an ugly black streak. God. She hadn't actually kissed him. It had all been in her head. A reckless, impossible fantasy in the middle of orientation.
Heat burned her cheeks. She shook her head quickly. "N-no. No questions."
"Good." His gaze lingered a moment too long before he moved on.
She bent over her notes, trying to breathe. Focus, damn it. But her pen betrayed her, scribbling: hot CEO. She crossed it out, then scrawled: stop staring.
She forced her mind back to the reason she was here. For her mom. For Emily.
She pictured them, her mother at the tiny window of their weathered Maine home, pretending not to worry about bills. Emily, her little sister, too bright for that small town, dreaming of more.
Lena had to make this internship count. No distractions. Certainly not fantasies about her boss.
At the head of the table, Lucas's voice cut through again. Steady. Commanding.
"This internship is not a formality. It's a test. Confidentiality is non-negotiable. What happens here stays here. Stratton & Co. thrives on risk and innovation. You've been chosen because we believe you can be trusted with both."
Even as she tried not to, Lena looked at him. Every word was calm, effortless authority. His presence filled the room, and damn it, her body betrayed her with heat at just the sound of his voice.
"You'll shadow your directors closely," Lucas continued. "Absorb everything. Bring ideas. But discipline comes first."
Beside her, a brunette leaned in with a whisper. "I'm Chloe. Guess we'll survive this together, huh?"
Lena blinked, then smiled faintly. "Lena. And… I hope so."
Relief loosened her chest. Maybe she wasn't completely alone.
Across the table, a slick-haired intern spun his pen, smirking like he already owned the place. His eyes cut to Lena, challenging, mocking. She made a mental note to steer clear.
Lucas closed his binder. "Talent brought you here. But effort and integrity will set you apart. Prove you belong, and doors will open."
"Miss Thompson," he added suddenly, eyes locking on her.
Her pulse jumped.
"Yes, sir?"
"Leave your email with my secretary. She'll send you my schedule."
"Oh yes. Of course."
The faintest smile curved his lips before he turned away.
Lena exhaled shakily. She told herself she'd keep her head down and focus. But the burn in her chest whispered otherwise.