Temptation: Breaking Victoria Sharp

No!

She refuse to admit defeat so easily. It is now a race against her pride.

If you want to keep tasting these lips, then woo me.

Woo me.

It is a battle she must win. Logically she knows this but her mind hesitates. Her mind is the problem with lots of questions.

Questions without answers. Or rather, questions she was stubbornly denying answers to.

Victoria remained motionless in her executive chair, staring at the space where James had stood moments before delivering his devastating blow. The afternoon light streaming through her floor-to-ceiling windows had shifted, casting different shadows across her office, but she felt suspended in time, trapped in the moment when six simple words had stripped away every careful justification she had constructed.

So you do like my lips.

The truth sat in her chest like a physical weight, and for the first time since their confrontation, Victoria allowed herself to acknowledge it fully. She did not just like his lips, she craved for them. The admission sent a pleasant heat coursing through her system as she recalled their perfect shape, the way they complemented his striking features with an almost artistic precision. Full but not thick, defined but not harsh, they possessed a masculine elegance that had haunted her thoughts.

Victoria closed her eyes, and immediately she was back in the rear seat of her car that night, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows as she finally surrendered to the temptation that had been building since the morning presentation. She had ravished those lips that seemed to beg for her attention, and ravishing hadn't been enough, she had devoured them with a hunger that surprised her with its intensity. They had been impossibly sweet, an intoxicating combination of soft and firm that defied logic. For a man, his lips were surprisingly tender, yet there was an underlying strength that made them completely, irresistibly suckable.

Unlike anyone she had kissed before, James had awakened something in her that night, made her feel in ways she had never experienced. Which was exactly why she had gone back for a second kiss, and then a third, despite his attempts to refuse, against every principle of professional conduct she had ever maintained. But how could she be blamed? It was his fault for possessing such addictive lips, for the way they were pliant and responded to her touch with just enough resistance to make her want more.

A pink tongue darts out licking her lower lip from just the thought of it.

Even during their recent almost-kiss, when she had been desperately trying to avoid him, to maintain her distance, the mere brush of their lips had nearly shattered her self-control completely. If not for years of practiced restraint, she would have thrown caution aside and claimed him right there in her office, his refusal be damned. The memory of that moment, the way her senses had scattered at the lightest contact, made her fingers tremble as she pressed them to her temples.

Victoria pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying to massage away the tension that had settled there like a permanent fixture. The quarterly reports still lay untouched on her desk, the Singapore regulatory documents awaited her review, and the afternoon schedule Amara had prepared demanded her attention. But all of it felt distant, irrelevant compared to the chaos James had unleashed in her perfectly ordered world.

How had she let this happen? How had she allowed herself to become so thoroughly intoxicated by a single man's lips, so completely undone by the memory of their taste? Victoria Sharp did not lose composure over men. Yet, her attention is fractured by memories of James's mouth, his damning ultimatum, and strategic campaign to unsettle her equilibrium.

The campaign succeeded with devastating effectiveness. Each perfectly coordinated outfit, echoed moments of quiet authority that chipped away at her defenses until she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him during meetings, noticing the way his sweaters fit his perfect upper torso, and now remembering those addictive lips that had started this spiral into emotional chaos.

Victoria forced herself to straighten in her chair, reaching for the market analysis she'd been attempting to review all morning. The familiar ritual of work had always been her anchor, the one constant that could restore her equilibrium when everything else felt uncertain. But as she opened the report, the words seemed to blur together, her mind unable to process the data through the static of her conflicted thoughts.

So you do like my lips.

The way his lips moved to produce such provocative words, made her hands tremble slightly as she turned the pages. He was spot on. It was exactly the kind of strategic thinking that made him invaluable as her strategic officer and exactly the kind of insight that made him dangerous to her carefully maintained control.

A soft knock interrupted her spiraling thoughts, followed by Amara's familiar voice.

"Ms. Sharp? I have your salad from Fifth Avenue Bistro."

Victoria looked up to find her assistant standing in the doorway, carrying the familiar white bag that contained the requested salad. She had to admit that Amara's work had become quite productive lately, the young woman was learning fast portraying the kind of sharp intelligence and professional ambition that reminded Victoria of her younger self.

"Come in," Victoria said, grateful for the distraction from her circular thoughts. "Set it on the coffee table."

Amara moved into the office with her characteristic grace, her burgundy sheath dress and matching blazer perfectly coordinated, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail that spoke to both professionalism and style. Victoria had always appreciated employees who understood that presentation mattered, that in her company, appearance was as important as competence.

"There's also this," Amara said, retrieving an elegant cream envelope from her portfolio. "It arrived by courier about an hour ago. The Petrov anniversary celebration, their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party next Friday evening."

Victoria accepted the envelope, noting the quality of the paper, the embossed lettering that spoke to the kind of understated luxury the Petrov's favored. Mikhail and Anastasia Petrov were among her most valuable international clients, their telecommunications empire spanning three continents and generating the kind of revenue that made their goodwill essential to her company's continued expansion.

The invitation itself was a masterpiece of elegant design, cream cardstock with gold foil accents, the kind of formal presentation that matched the Petrov's' reputation for sophistication. Victoria scanned the details: black-tie dinner, private dining room at the Metropolitan Club, a celebration of both their marriage and their latest acquisition in the Eastern European market.