I should’ve pulled out.
I should’ve stepped back.
I should’ve put space between us before I let myself do something else I’d regret.
But I didn’t.
Because I liked it.
The way she looked like this—wrecked, spent, her body still trembling in the aftermath.
Finally, I pulled out.
Valentina reached for the crumpled napkin beside her, wiping the inside of her thigh. I leaned back in my chair, fixing my belt, and watched her straighten her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles like we hadn’t just fucked the professionalism right out of this office.
She peeked over her shoulder, catching my stare, and smirked. “You always look this serious after sex, lawyer?”
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. “You always run your mouth after I fuck you breathless?”
She scoffed. “Please. You wish you could fuck me breathless.”
I raised a brow, tilting my head slightly. “You were moaning into the damn desk five minutes ago. Want me to pull up the footage?”
She scoffed, adjusting her skirt with a huff.“You American men are so vulgar.”
“And yet here you are, letting a vulgar American fuck you over his desk.”
She turned, narrowing her eyes at me. “Temporary lapse in judgment.”
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. “Yeah? How many of those do you plan on having?”
“No more.”
I raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded slowly. “Okay.” I leaned back in my chair, watching her smooth her hair as if that would somehow put the rest of her back in order. It wouldn’t. Not after the way she’d come apart for me. Not after the way she’dlet me see her like that—wild, desperate, hers and mine all at once.
“No more,” she said again, firmer this time. Like if she repeated it, she might actually believe it.
I didn’t.
“Sure,” I muttered, dragging my gaze down her legs, the marks my fingers had left on her thighs still faintly visible.
She glared at me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was something else there—something wary, like she was expecting me to call her bluff.
I didn’t, because I didn’t need to.
We both knew exactly how this would end.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said, chin lifted.
“Of course not.” My voice was even, almost bored. “Just like the last time didn’t mean anything.”
The fuck it didn’t.
I watched her head for the door, the scent of her perfume still clinging to the air between us, and for a second—just a second—I thought about stopping her. Thought about saying something that would make her stay.
