“Stop lying to yourself, darlin’。”
He smashed his mouth onto mine, ramming his tongue against the seam of my lips trying to force them open. I twisted my head, blindly kicking at his ankles. I wanted to fight, to flail and slap and scratch, but my arms were pinned against me, the papers slicing into the tender skin on the inside of my arms.
He didn’t let up. He groaned, like my fight was everything he’d ever imagined, like I was playing right into his fantasy. He ground against me, the lump in his slacks digging into my inner thigh.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t even open my mouth to scream without his tongue shoving through. So instead, I did the opposite.
I shut down.
I went to the dark corner of my mind, the one I hadn’t had to escape to in years, and I stopped. I stopped twisting. I stopped fighting. I stopped thinking. I. Just. Stopped.
If there was one harsh truth I’d had forcibly ingrained in my head in my twenty-five years, it was that some men liked their women willing, and some liked them unwilling. But very few liked to grope a boneless shell.
In the safety of my corner, I was curled up in a fetal position, raging and tearing my hair out. But on the outside, I was motionless, my eyes wide open, staring over his shoulder at a spot on the wall. I let him paw at me, refusing to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another second of my emotions.
He increased his attempts at first, each action growing wilder and more desperate than the one before. He squeezed my ass hard enough to bruise, and when that didn’t pull anything from me, he bit my lip.
Only then, when I’d still failed to react, did he pull back. I didn’t avert my eyes from the spot on the wall, and it took everything in me not to wipe at the smears of saliva across my lips and chin.
Keeping my voice as flat and calm as I could manage, I asked, “Is there anything work-related I can help you with?”
His head pulled back another inch, brow creased, and his lips thinned. He released me, dropping his arms at his sides. He stared, his expression tight, and for a moment he looked nervous. But he wiped it away with an arrogant smirk. He raised a hand, wiping his thumb across his mouth.
“Not work-related, no.”
“Then I need to go,” I said, rearranging my armload of bent pages. “Excuse me.”
He stepped to the side, and for one glorious moment I thought he’d actually let me pass without another word, but he snatched my elbow in a firm grip. “Don’t make this into something it wasn’t. No one needs to know what we do in private.”
Was he trying to convince me or himself? If he thought I was running to Jim’s office to report him, he was wrong. Why would I waste my time? I’d verbally complained about Rob to both Evaline and Jim several times, and nothing had ever been done. Rob was just being friendly.
So no, I wouldn’t run to Jim. I was going to walk my butt right back into my own office, sit at my desk, and finish preparing the list I’d promised Evaline.
Only then would I address the issue in a written email, sent directly through the company network. Hopefully, he’d finally take me seriously this time.
I calmly unhooked his fingers from my elbow, knowing I only succeeded because he let me, and walked out of the room. He followed me, stopping at the doorway to my office, watching me.
It didn’t bother me; I was still safely tucked away in my corner. So, I ignored him, pulling my chair up to my desk and going about my job. He said something before he left, but I was no longer listening.
A hurricane was screaming around me, debris crashing at my feet, hair whipping across my eyes, but I sat through it, signing my name on document after document. It was fine.
It’d all be fine.
“Quit.”