Out of all the men I’d dated since Tariq, not one had undone me like he did. Not from my body. Not from my mind. Not from my heart.
There’d been men with more power. More access. More poise. But none of them had ever touched me in that dark, burning place Tariq claimed the first night he slid between my thighs and made me cum with nothing but his mouth and his voice.
She walked past me slow, clocking me, then smirking like she’d won something. I didn’t even blink.
I earned my place in this man’s life long before she ever learned how to linger in a doorway.
The door shut, and the air shifted…
“That’s not what it looked like.” His eyes were sincere but I wouldn’t let him know I’d seen the truth just yet.
I crossed my arms. Not out of attitude—just to hold myself still. “What did it look like?”
He studied me. “Like someone mistaking proximity for possibility.”
It almost made me smile. Almost. But I didn’t trust myself to soften.
“I don’t have the right to question how you spend your time and with whom.” Even if I really wanted to know.
“Possibly. But I won’t lie and say I wonder who’s been taking care of my pussy since you left.”
Hispussy clenched.
“That’s not fair, and you know it, Tariq.”
“I know I’ve missed you. But you’re not here to talk about that. Right?”
I swallowed and nodded. “Right?”
Just like that, he owned me.
I walked toward his desk, my heels quiet on the floor, my portfolio tucked in one arm like a shield. I stopped closer than I needed to. Closer than I should’ve.
He smelled the same. Clean. Masculine. Expensive restraint.
His forearms rested on the desk—veins like thick cords beneath that smooth, brown skin. My stomach dipped.
My mouth remembered the feel of those arms around my waist, holding me steady while he pinned my knees to my shoulders and fucked me deep enough to make me see stars. My pussy pulsed just from the memory.
I remembered how he slapped my ass when I rode him too slow. How he gripped my hips and whisperedfaster, baby—his voice low, breath hot, dick thick and buried deep. How he kissed the center of my chest afterward like worship.
Tariq licked his lips. My thighs clenched.
Focus, Sanaa.
“I brought the documentation of the art and any materials related to installation,” I said, setting the folder down between us. My voice didn’t shake, but I felt the tremble behind it. “The collection wasn’t fully insured. Some items were acquired throughunorthodoxmeans.”
His jaw flexed. He nodded.
“I see…Thank you.”
I nodded on a deep breath. Our eyes connected and held.
The air between us thickened with everything unspoken. I felt the heat rising in my chest. My nipples tightened beneath my blouse. My body tilted toward his like it remembered the rhythm we used to move in—the kind that ended with me screaming into his neck and shaking under his hands.
I stepped back and smoothed my skirt.
“If you need anything else,” I said, cool as I could manage, “you can reach me through my firm.”
