Sinopse
Beautiful and hardheaded Clarice knows how to handle herself in a fighting ring. She doesn't surrender easily to any man.
Until she crosses path with her boss, Oscar Denver. He breaks through every mental restraint and common sense in her mind to make her submit not just to him, but to all the men who want her.
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
He had knocked me out with just one good hit, forcing all the air out of my lungs along with the will to continue fighting.
What was I thinking? Picking a fight with the boss.
Only, I didn't choose to fight him. Angela did. What was she thinking?!
She could never say no to a handsome face. He probably worked his charms on her for one second and she melted.
"Are you okay?" I heard the familiar deep bass of my superior from the door and sat straight immediately.
"Hey, boss," I greeted with false gusto, leaning against the couch, bag of ice still over my cheek in a feeble attempt to will the bruise away.
I flinched when he reached towards my face. Sensing my discomfort, he pulled back and towered over me like a disapproving master. His expression was stony. "Which idiot aimed for your face, Clarice?" he asked.
He spoke my name like how I imagined a Frenchman would whisper promises in his lover's ear. I swallowed the shudder that threatened to crawl up my spine. "You should see what I did to him."
I tried not to look at his face. He was like the sun, too painful to look at for too long. I didn't want to be blinded. "Do you always pick fights you can't win?" he asked, his expression softening.
A laugh made it's way out my throat and I wished I could take it back. I sounded too eager to be amused. Does he know the effect he had on me by just being close to me?
I made the mistake of gazing into his perfect black orbs. His eyes held a look of surprise, like he found himself as attracted to me as I was to him.
And then I blinked and the desire in his eyes vanished like it was never there to begin with.
"I won that fight," I breathed. It was hard to breathe when he looked at me like that.
His hands fell on either side of my face and I leaned back and away from his face. We were close enough that we were breathing in each other's air. It was too much.
I could smell the muskiness of his sweat.
"Bet I could take you in a rematch," I whispered.
What was I doing? He was the best fighter in the ring. I couldn't take him on. I had been deliberately avoiding running into him ever since I found out the big boss enjoyed spending his free time beating people up.
"I would much rather hurt you in a different - more pleasurable - way," he said, his voice low and heavy.
