Flawed Temptation Read online

  He has a gaze that compels me to submit by turning my eyes down on the ground.

  I hear Matt’s voice speaking to the bombarding voices while I try to will myself to keep looking at Mark and don’t let him see the weakness in me.

  “Does it have to be you?” I laugh awkwardly.

  He cocks an eyebrow, crossing those bulky arms over his wide chest. I look at his eyebrows as they are the safest place to keep my attention, and even his eyebrows are perfect.

  This man is nowhere near the image I have for the Director of Security. I had a dissonance when I first saw him; I know I’m generalizing, but all the powerful people have been old white men with political backgrounds.

  “Do you have something to hide?” he shoots back.

  “That’s for me to know and for you to never find out,” I counter back with a frown.

  My heart jumps to my throat when he cracks a quick smirk that tugs on my heart as I bite back a whimper. Those heated eyes burn my skin, making them flush with pink as I hold back my squirming when I feel slick escaping my pussy to smear on my panties.

  Mark uncross his arms and press one on the table to lean into my face. I stop breathing as his breath hits my lips, keeping our eyes connected gives me the chance to block out the other noises that are buzzing around the room. I peer at him through my lashes, he dives into the depths of my weakening resolve as the braveness in me dissolves like a marshmallow in water.

  “Do not underestimate me, Grey,” he growls with a purr following slowly, “I am a very determined man. I will find your secrets, and when I do, you will regret challenging me.”

  I swallow thickly, a weak whimper tumbles out of my wobbling lips as he pulls back. I tell myself to not move forward like a pathetic puppy chasing after that deep masculine scent from his strong body.

  “You do not want to know what I will do to you.”

  I want to stuff my nose in his neck and just smell him. My creepy behavior is beginning to show and I can’t have him using that against me. Gut feeling tells me I will be going down a rabbit hole if I let him see the insane attraction I have to his scent.

  He is everything I like about my man. Tall, dark, and grouchily handsome. So thick, so strong, and so utterly masculine. A brute under the composed build of his form, a savage in the way he articulates himself.

  He is uninterested at my squirming, simply basking on my discomfort as he glares down at the top of my head, keeping his piercing gaze as a threatening tactic to make me focus on his words.

  If his goal is for me to listen to him as he is the authoritative figure with my life in his hands, then he has gotten that wish because my heart is sprinting like a horse in a race.

  This conflict raging inside my tummy makes me sick; the innate submissive in me wants to go on my knees and beg for his attention while the more curious and bolder girl on the surface wishes to test his boundaries and see if the sinister desire in his eyes is a fragment of my imagination.

  “Mattie won’t let you hurt me,” I weakly tell him.

  “You are mine, he won’t be able to help you.”

  My heart shutters.

  Chapter Four

  Mark

  I still had doubts that Camille is Grey. From what I know, Grey has the type of skills that needs years of perfecting, even a genius needs time to familiarize the complexity in systems.

  I had to look her up, find out everything I could with the name she gave. There is a good chance she is a shelf-baby with an identity and a life built for her, and I am amazed at how detailed they were. Untrained eyes would overlook the fact that she doesn’t exist in yearbooks, no one knows who she is from the hometown she is from, and there are no physical footprints to prove she is real.

  However, there are no digital footprints to show that she isn’t real.

  Camille Carmichael. Graduated from a local high school with average grades, no extracurricular or any records of her academics other than the reports in the system as she chooses a school with a busted pipe that destroyed many records.

  It’s common for young girls to not have a work history when they graduate so I can pretty much estimate her age, and in her records, she has recently graduated. What I don’t understand is that she has to have been going to high school in real life, yet she chooses to hide that fact in a shelf-baby life she created.

  It’s a possibility that her own name is also a fake identity.

  This girl is a mystery wrapped too tightly, I can’t penetrate through her walls of an enigma. If the technological attempt doesn’t work, I will have to learn about her hands-on.

  I begin my observation with her throughout the week. I have given her the conference table as her workspace, she can do her work and I can see every keystroke she makes as her back is facing me.

  The way she works is a miracle in itself; quick and efficient as she combs through thousands and thousands of zeros and ones, infiltrating and searching for evidence that she has been piling on every person working in any government agency.

  Once she had started working, her attention is solely on the screens on the walls. Nimble fingers flying with each clack, flashing screens with the things she pulls up and takes down, and the frightening accurate information she gathers in her reports to give to me at the end of the day.

  Bathroom breaks are rare for her, only when I drop a large bottle of caffeinated drink in front of her would she hydrate her body. Food is harder to get into her, I have to physically drag her away from the table to get her to eat.

  She asks for a rug under her workstation for her feet when it dangles as she is too short to type and have her feet graze the ground. They would swing occasionally when she finds something interesting and she will linger for a brief moment to debate which category she should put that information in.

  My office is all neutral colors, and she is that splash of color that drags my eyes up from my own work. Every day, she comes out of my makeshift bedroom and it leaves me sleeping on the couch. I get this kink in my neck every time I wake up, but whenever I see that sleepy and that tantalizing skin from her sleepwear is worth the pain in my back.

  I’m not a small man, my body can’t fit in the couch and I know how long I can last in this less than ideal living situation.

  She wears simple things; shirts and shorts in this air-conditioned room, those hideous socks with cartoons and patterns on them, and the bright pink slippers. It’s a look that I’m accustomed to because everyone in this building is required by their dress code. It’s for safety reasons too, they don’t want to be noticed as a target with a bright ass yellow shirt like Camille.

  I wince and rub the back of my head when I look up from the stack of paper that I have been reading, they are reports from other agencies from their missions.

  “Are you okay?” Camille asks, our eyes meet when she spins around in her chair.

  Today she has on a long pullover and green knee-high socks, and nothing else. I know because she had accidentally flashed me her panties when she would move around and lean over the conference table for papers.

  Just one flimsy fabric hiding her little cunt. I didn’t think a pair of neon green socks would turn me on so much that I can’t concentrate on my work. I learned something new about me and that is I’m a leg man, her legs specifically.

  Tight ass leading down supple thighs and that cutoff point with her socks are enough to drive me crazy.

  Dreams have been plaguing my mind when I sleep, and I would wake up with my cock leaking and throbbing from my pants. She had asked me if I had a cold because of all the tissues in the garbage bin beside my work desk.

  It’s a necessity in the early mornings when she is still in deep sleep.

  “Fine,” I grunt, averting my eyes from another flash of her panties when she jumps off the chair.

  “You’re not,” she said, skipping towards me.

  Her pullover sways, brushing on her thighs and I push the image of her parting her legs to show me that tight pussy.

/>   “Drop it,” I bark, trying to make her back off as she will see the tent in my pants.

  It does the job halfway, but she is stubborn when she wants to know something, and she rounds my table with big curious eyes.

  “You should walk around, I mean, your bones will calcify from all this sitting.”

  Something in me compels me to glare at her and make her take back her words as it hits one of the differences between us.

  “Are you calling me old?”

  “Well…” she fidgets her fingers, picking at the lining on the sleeves.

  My neutral face goes from indifference to hazy when she blushes. She can’t handle my stares, I make her cheeks flush and she is so pretty when she does that.

  “Maybe you should see a chiropractor?” she cocks her head, letting her brown hair fall to the side.

  I punctuate each word with a break between them, “I’m fine.”

  “Is it because I took your bed? You can have it back and I can sleep on the couch. I can probably fit.” she offers, and it doesn’t sit well with me.

  I don’t want the aching on my body to ever make it to her fragile one. Her small body on my bed looks better than curling in the couch, with sheets over her young body would be a sight to be woken up from.

  “I’m not weak.”

  She laughs, a chime in the springtime. Soft and gentle, I nearly purr with her beautiful face so radiant in her beauty. I’m damn lucky to see that smile and not some other fuck that might have gotten their hands on her or another man taking my position as the Director of Security.

  No offense to Matt, but I hate how close he is to Camille.

  It fuels my possessiveness.

  “That’s the last thing I would describe you as.”

  I raise an eyebrow, noticing how with me sitting, she is face to face with me. She is tiny, too small compared to me.

  “What would you describe me as?” I humor her, it’s a way for her to take a break as she has been looking at the screens all morning.

  She taps her chin and purses her lips, she thinks for a moment and nods firmly.

  “Pretty,” she says, and I’m about to give her ass a spanking when she adds, “Confident, I like how you are so smart. Oh, that death stare you give to people. Loyal and trustworthy, a responsible guy.”

  My chest puffs up.

  “You got all that in one week?” I inquire.

  She nods, “It’s hard not to look at you.”

  My eyes darken at her tongue flicking out to wet her bottom lip.

  “Camille,” I growl.

  She beams, unaware of the fire she fanned with her little seduction. “Oh, you can call me Cammie.”

  “And you can sleep in your bed!” she offers with a grin, “You probably have neck pain from all those nights on the couch.”

  “Camille—”

  She pouts, and my resolve breaks. “Cammie.”

  Her smile takes away the guilt I have in my heart.

  “You won’t sleep on the couch.” I finalize, “You will stay on the bed.”

  She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s like the hospital stereotype, you men just don’t want to get help.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes, “Do not rope me into the average population. I am simply trusting you that our nation is counting on your performance and a restless night of sleep will set back the progress we have made.”

  I could tell she hates that I have a point, but she still argues because she is just that persistent.

  “But you’re hurting!”

  “Sore,” I correct.

  She whines, “Just take the bed! Why are you so stubborn?”

  I raise an eyebrow at her accusation, “I’m not letting you have the couch.”

  “Fine,” she grumpily frowns, jutting her pink bottom lip out. “We split the bed.”

  What possessed her to say that? Doesn’t she know how much control I’m restraining to not let this lust take over? She does things to me all day, only nighttime is when I can breathe normally again without having the fear of one sniff at her sweet scent and I would lose control.

  She doesn’t want me to rip her underwear off and fuck her like an animal on top of my desk. With or without her consent.

  I won’t be this composed when my cock is snuggly inside her silky cunt, I have been imagining the tightness and hot muscles rippling around my cock to desperately milk me. Make my cum splash into her womb until she is leaking over on the confidential papers.

  “Please?” she crinkles her eyebrows, a distressed expression begs me with doe-eyes. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

  I can't say no to a face of a kicked puppy.

  Iron control is something I’m proud of and with one look, I’m crumbling like a pitiful wall hit by a wrecking ball.

  This girl would be a great manipulator and seductress if she isn’t too naïve or ignorant. Too innocent in a world filled with lies, but her pureness is what pushes me to heighten my security around the office.

  No one comes into my office anymore, they aren’t allowed to as I have restricted the access from the people working below.

  If they have anything to ask, they will call my office. I will go down to meet them if it’s warranted, but no one will see Camille as she is my little secret. Having people look at her and know who she is makes me irritated, it grates on my nerves as I won’t have the special privilege to keep her to myself.

  “Alright,” I agree, sounding my annoyance in the fakest noise.

  She giddily raises a pinky, “You can’t go back on your words.”

  I hook mine over hers and she squeezes with a slight shake, my mind tries to understand the concept of this childish action, but her smile is too bright for me to take that blissfulness away.

  I would be a monster to steal that from her. Now or someday in the future, I know that I am not strong enough to tell her no.

  Her influence on me is frightening.

  “Get back to work.” I pull my pinky away and scowls at her, lowering my voice in a tone of reprimand.

  Camille doesn’t notice, she beams and giggles happily while she twirls around to run back to her work station. While she turned, her loose pullover had flipped over again, and I had the up-close view of her bouncy ass.

  My cock twitches.

  Fuck, this is going to be a long day.

  Chapter Five

  Camille

  My back hurts from sitting wrongly on the chair, I keep pushing my spine towards my tummy that it’s sore in the most unpleasant way ever.

  The half-eaten burger is right next to the can of soda that I didn’t touch either. I was going to finish it but then I got distracted by the new development that I found.

  There was a glitch in the Department of Health, something inconspicuous as it almost went past my eyes. I notice because the code to the elevators looked off with an extra line of lettering on it.

  It’s a signature, one that I’m not familiar with. Though, that’s not surprising given that there are millions of hackers out there with their own unique line of codes to identify who they are and that’s how they take credit for their work.

  It could be harmless.

  Maybe one of the developers forgot to delete the code because it didn’t hinder the keycard functions of the elevator.

  I put a note on the side of my desk about the elevator before I went on to do the other sections of the Health Department.

  That was the first inconsistency that I found from the day I began working. I notice another series of unwarranted codes embedded deep into files that are passed on throughout the departments by email. It’s a spreadsheet of salaries, it shouldn’t raise any questioning eyebrows from the harmless information.

  I begin to pick up the pattern and start looking for that specific series of codes since that’s how the information is relaying to each other. The code leads to almost all departments of the government, it’s a well-organized way to go under the radar because nobody would real
ly look too deeply into a spreadsheet of salaries.

  Every department has its own spreadsheet and way of filing their information, but the common thread is the flow of data for the annual reports in one big PDF document. That is the only link that connects all the departments.

  I still have no idea who is behind it because tracing the annual reports and the salary spreadsheets lead back to multiple people with multiple points of access. From what I can gather in a week worth of time, they all have been cleared as the code has always been embedded in the systems.

  The code has to have been at least ten years old.

  All the suspected workers haven’t been working for that long.

  I cock my head, fingers wiggling above the keys and I purse my lips to come up with a way to do this without prying into personal information. I want to dig a little deeper into them just in case I might have overlooked something or that their personnel files are not enough to determine if they are a part of the terrorist group that warned everyone that there would be another attack.

  They haven’t given a date or any indication of what the target is, but it’s been a week and it is radio silence since then.

  “Eat,” Mark said, surprising me as I jump in my chair.

  A plate of a sandwich comes in front of me as his big arms move around to get the cold burger from my table. It’s a plain ham and cheese sandwich, I appreciate the light flavors as the burger was a bit too salty. I shouldn’t complain about the food, even if they are from the cafeteria, but it was really salty and drenched in ketchup and mustard.

  I might as well be drinking the condiments.

  And one slice of lettuce isn’t going to cut the heaviness of the flavors.

  Raising my eyes to the man who decided to pull a chair next to me, he drops his weight down on the chair and sighs. I have never seen him eat food and I don’t know how he has the time to do anything when he’s always in this office with me.