The door opened just as Karen was leaning closer to it, her ear nearly pressed against the wood, her body coiled with nervous energy. She stumbled back a step, her cheeks flushing crimson as Chris emerged, his expression unreadable but his gaze sharp behind his glasses. He held the open box loosely in one hand, the burgundy sleeve visible inside. "Find everything you were looking for out here?" he asked, his tone even, almost clinical.

Karen’s heart leapt into her throat. "I—I was just… waiting. Is everything… all right with the order?" she stammered, her eyes darting from the box to his face, then down to the front of his jeans, which still held that tantalizing, heavy promise. She could smell the faint, sterile scent of new silicone mingling with his own clean, masculine odor. "It's fine," Chris said, watching her closely. "Seems to be exactly what I ordered." He paused, then added, "You know, for something so… specialized, it's surprisingly expensive."

"Oh, I'll bet!" The words burst from Karen before she could stop them, her voice a little too high, a little too eager. "I mean, with custom work like that, the materials, the precision… it must cost a fortune." She was babbling, trying to cover her tracks, but the hunger in her was too strong to fully conceal. Her nipples were hard peaks against the thin fabric of her uniform shirt, and she could feel the dampness gathering between her thighs. Chris’s eyes narrowed slightly. "How would you know how much it costs?" he asked, his voice dropping to a quieter, more intent register. He took a small step forward, and Karen instinctively took a half-step back, her wide hips brushing against the edge of his desk. "The price isn't on the outside of the box."

The air seemed to vanish from the room. Karen’s mouth went dry. She’d slipped up, badly. Her mind raced, scrambling for another lie, another thread of this fragile web she’d woven, but the look in his grey eyes—sharp, perceptive, cutting right through her—told her it was useless. He knew. He had to know. A hot wave of shame washed over her, followed immediately by a sharper, darker thrill of exposure. Her secret was out, and instead of fear, a reckless, pulsing need took hold.

"I…" she began, but her voice failed. She swallowed, her throat tight. Her gaze dropped to the floor, then swept back up, meeting his with a sudden, shocking honesty. "I saw the return address. Apex Forge. I know what they make." Her voice was a whisper, thick with want. "I know what kind of men order from them."

Chris was silent for a long moment, just looking at her. The analytical part of his mind was cataloging every detail—the rapid rise and fall of her spectacular chest, the way her fingers trembled where they clutched at her sides, the dark flush of desire on her neck and cheeks. The pragmatic resignation he’d felt in the bedroom was gone, replaced by something else, something hotter and far more dangerous. This wasn't fear or discomfort in her eyes. It was raw, unvarnished hunger. For him. For what he was.

"So you lied," he stated, not as an accusation, but as a simple fact. He set the box down on the desk beside her, his arm brushing against the incredible softness of her breast. She shuddered at the contact, a soft gasp escaping her lips. "The scanner, the company policy… all of it. Just to get a look." He moved closer, crowding her gently against the desk. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the coffee on his breath.

"Yes," she breathed, the admission a liberation. “I lied.” The confession hung between them, a taut wire of shared understanding. Chris let out a slow, shaky breath. He’d spent years hiding, years of seeing women recoil, years of believing his body was a curse. And now this goddess, this creature built for a king, was trembling against his desk, her pupils blown wide with desire, her lush body begging for his. The fragile hope in his cheston the verge of exploding into a roaring inferno. "Tell me why," he murmured, his voice low and rough now, all pretense of stoicism gone. "Tell me what you really wanted to see."

Special Delivery