I steel myself, and I do, and God, his eyes are so blue in this light as I look up at him. It’s astonishing, really. His gaze drops to my chest in its new lacy Agent Provocateur bra and then moves lower, and he groans a little as he slides his hands back to my hips. Honestly, that feels astonishing too, because I’m pretty sure I just witnessed spontaneous ovulation from dozens of women down in reception.

Walking through the building with him, looking at him through their eyes, was eye-opening to say the least. Yes, he’s the CEO, so he’s bound to garner some level of attention, admiration.

But there was nothing professional about the way those women were mentally undressing him.

And now I’m here with him, in his palatial corner office, and he’s mentally undressing me in exactly the same way. The only difference? He intends to do a hell of a lot more than that. Despite my nerves, despite the surreal, intense charge of this situation, that gives me a kick, because there’s no denying the man is beautiful.

You lucky bitch, I admonish myself. This guy is the prize everyone in this building wants, and he wants to play with you.

His gaze comes back up to my face, and we stare at each other as I wait for him to make his move.

He smiles slowly, confidently, and I know it’s game on.

‘Get on your knees, love.’

And there it is.

I really, really hope I was right about blowjobs. I hope it’s like riding a bike, because I am seriously out of practice.

Brendan takes my hands and holds them tightly so I can sink to my knees in four-inch heels without going sideways. I hit the plush white carpet and look up at him. Holy crap, he’s tall from this angle.

‘Take me out like a good girl.’

His voice is strained, and there’s already a serious bulge going on behind those very nice wool trousers. I’m under no illusions as to the size of this guy, but his God-given blessings practically hit me in the face as I pull down his flies and rummage in the small space to find the slit in his boxers. Can I even get him out like this, or do I need to undo his belt buckle and buttons too?

Jesus, I’m rusty.

He doesn’t seem to notice my lack of elegance, though. He groans again, low in his throat, as I abandon any hope of getting his dick out this way. It brings new meaning to the analogy of trying to fit a camel through the eye of a needle. Anyway, he’ll want me to play with his balls, I assume. I may as well give myself full access.