Why Did You Stop

It had been a full week since Emma stepped into the polished, glass-fronted offices of the prestigious firm, and to her astonishment, Christopher had been… surprisingly normal despite his threat to seduce her at any chance he got.

After that audacious conversation when he declared he would eagerly pursue her, she had been bracing herself for his inevitable advances—flirting comments laced with charm, heated glances that lingered a beat longer than necessary, or some clever maneuver designed to rekindle the undeniable spark they had shared that Friday night.

But to her growing confusion, nothing had transpired. Not even a flirtatious glance. Nothing.

Christopher had been the epitome of professionalism, treating her no differently than he would any other employee: their dialogues strictly confined to work-related matters. His tone had remained impeccably formal, devoid of even the slightest hint of impropriety or suggestiveness.

It was as if that charged, electric encounter had faded into oblivion.

Strangely, that very thought irked her. Not that Emma wished for him to shower her with flirtatious banter—but the fact that he had asserted with such audacity that he wouldn’t give up on her, only to retreat into an indifferent facade, made her feel… silly and confused.

So, after a week devoid of any games or distractions, she found herself unwinding for the first time.

By Monday morning, Emma had settled comfortably into her rhythm, finally seeing Christopher as merely her boss—nothing more.

She sat at her desk, her fingers deftly flipping through his meticulously arranged schedule for the day, ensuring each appointment was in its right place.

His morning meetings had been deftly rearranged to allow for a brief respite, his lunch commitments confirmed, and a stack of reports awaited her careful review before passing them onto him.

She was so immersed in her tasks that when the office landline rang, she jumped in surprise.

Christopher was the sole occupant who ever utilized that line.

Clearing her throat to compose herself as she answered, "Mr. Jacobs?"

“Coffee,” his gravelly voice resonated through the receiver. “Now.”

Emma rolled her eyes, suppressing the urge to retort, yet maintaining her professional demeanor. “Of course, sir.”

Usually, she was supposed to take his coffee to him first thing in the morning after she arrived but he had given her instructions to always wait untill when he needed it.

With an exasperated sigh, she stood, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the company café. By now, she knew Christopher’s coffee preference by heart—strong, black, and bitter. No sugar, no cream. Just like him.

After placing his order, Emma drummed her fingers impatiently against the counter, her thoughts wandering. Perhaps he had simply been toying with her that day.

Perhaps his bold proclamation about not leaving her alone had been a mere jest.

She shook her head, steeling herself. 'It doesn’t matter, Emma. Focus on work,' she admonished herself as she awaited the completion of his coffee.

Once the barista handed her the steaming cup, she hurried back upstairs, carefully balancing it in her hand, her heart thumping unnecessarily fast in her chest.

As soon as she crossed the threshold into Christopher’s office, an instinctual awareness washed over her.

It wasn’t anything over—just a tingling intuition, a subtle change in the atmosphere.

Christopher was seated behind his desk, his sleeves rolled up, exposing strong, tanned forearms. The top two buttons of his black dress shirt were undone, revealing just a glimpse of his toned chest.

His green eyes were already on her. Watching her every move and waiting for her to approach him.

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a little too warm by the way his eyes swept over her.

The ease she had started to feel around him wavered in that moment making her wonder why. It wasn't like he was doing anything or saying anything to her. She mused, shaking her head to get over any nervousness in her.

“Bring it over here,” he instructed, his voice smooth yet commanding.

Emma hesitated, unsure of his sudden request. Typically, she’d place his coffee on the tray situated near the edge of his desk. Why did he want her to bring it closer?

Swallowing her uncertainty, she complied, moving around to his side and setting the cup down carefully.

“Good girl,” he remarked, a smirk dancing on his lips that ignited a mixture of irritation and embarrassment within her.

Emma rolled her eyes in response. “You’re acting weird,” she muttered under her breath, the tension mounting.

Christopher leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a husky murmur. “And you look particularly beautiful today.”

Emma’s breath caught unexpectedly. Her fingers twitched anxiously, suddenly desperate to escape the room.

Her grip on the coffee cup faltered and in a split second, the hot liquid splashed across Christopher’s lap.

Her eyes widened in sheer horror when she saw what had happened. “Oh my God! I—I’m so sorry!”

Christopher inhaled sharply, his entire demeanor shifting, body tensing at the unexpected warmth splattered across him.

Emma, panic-stricken, grabbed a stack of tissues from his desk, frantically dabbing at the mess.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you hurt? I’m so sorry, Sir!” she blurted, her cheeks flushing crimson as she continued to dab on his trouser.

To her surprise, Christopher let out a low chuckle, his amusement palpable.

Emma froze mid-motion, a confused realization dawning on her.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, meeting the playful glint in his eyes that sent her heart racing.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even uncomfortable. He was thoroughly entertained.

“Why did you stop? There is still some here,” he murmured, his voice thick with humor.

Emma blinked, confused—until she followed his gaze and saw what he meant.

There was still a dark stain spreading over his trousers. Near his thigh. Too close to the region in between his legs.

She was sure if she so much as trued to clean it off, her hands might touch his groin.

The thought again made her face ignite as thoughts of that night with him came rushing back at her.

“Y-You—!” she stammered, utterly mortified.

Christopher tilted his head, looking at her with a lazy smirk. “Me what?”

Emma clenched her fists, trying to will away the heat creeping up her neck. “I—I'm so sorry, sir. It won’t happen again,” She said instead of indulging him more since she needed to get away from there as soon as possible.

“It’s fine. In fact, I’d appreciate it if a similar incident occurred again. Just not at the expense of my lap though," he replied, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“I’m still sorry, Sir,” she added, her voice strained as she fumbled. She wanted to tell him he was unbelievable but then, it was her fault. If only she'd been careful enough.

His smirk widened, further fueling her embarrassment. “Relax, sweetheart. I have a change of clothes. So, I won't have to walk around in these.”

Emma, mortified, tossed the tissues at him, her hands trembling with emotion. “You could’ve told me that sooner!” she retorted sharply, realizing that in her frantic attempts to dab away the coffee, she had inadvertently positioned herself snugly between his lap.

"And miss having your hands on me? I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his teasing voice making her pulse race even faster.

Emma took a step back trying to put as much space as possible between them. “Do you need anything else, sir?” she asked quickly, eager to escape.

Christopher was unbearable, and her patience was wearing thin. This was far more than she had anticipated when she had agreed to his challenge.

Christopher tilted his head, as if considering teasing her further, but then waved a hand dismissively. “No, you’re free to go.”

Not wasting a second, Emma spun on her heel and practically ran out of the office, her face burning with embarrassment from everything that had happened.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Christopher leaned back in his chair and shook his head with a smirk.

Oh, this is going to be entertaining, he mused.

He hadn't even started yet, and she was already running. Just wait until he really got started, he thought, standing up to change into another spare of suit trouser so he could get started for the day ahead.