I study her, trying to read her. She looks calm. Curious. Like this is nothing more than conversation, but there’s a hint of playful mischief in her eyes.
I step closer, turning the chair so she’s facing me fully. “How bad?” I ask.
She shrugs, that little smirk back in place. “I don’t know . . . say I was your wife. And I cheated.”
Something dark flickers low in my chest. “My wife wouldn’t cheat on me.”
Her brow lifts. “You sound very sure.”
“When would she get the chance?” I take her glass from her hand and set it aside, my movements slow, deliberate. “She wouldn’t leave my side.” I place my hands on either side of the chair, boxing her in. “And when she did,” I continue quietly, “it would be with someone I trust watching her.”
“Ah,” she murmurs, “and what if she had an affair with the bodyguard?”
My lip twitches. “You watch too much Netflix.”
“It happens.”
“Not to me.” My voice drops. “Not with what’s mine.” Her breath catches. “But if she did,” I add, leaning closer, letting the words brush her skin, “I wouldn’t ignore it.”
Her eyes darken. “Would you punish her?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze. Let the silence stretch. “I wouldn’t have to,” I say quietly. “She’d already know she’d crossed a line she couldn’t come back from.”
She holds my gaze, unflinching with curiosity. Like she doesn’t quite believe what I’m capable of. I should walk away. Prove her wrong. Instead, I lean in close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath. She’s daring me to kiss her, her eyes burning into mine with an untamed heat.
“Careful,” I murmur. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Her lips part. She doesn’t pull back.
And then our lips crash together as I pull her into my arms. She wraps her legs around me and I lift her onto the desk, running my hands up her thighs and tugging her flush against me.
There’s no doubt she’s addictive and as I take her on my desk, I know I can’t just walk away from her like others.
There’s something different about Wynter.
WYNTER
I’d hoped the first time with Ray had been a fluke. That he’d be terrible the second time around. That way, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about enjoying it.
But he’s not. He’s better. Infuriatingly so.
He knows exactly what he’s doing—how to touch, how to move, how to make my body react in ways I didn’t even know were possible. Things I’ve never experienced before. Things Josh never did.It’s not a criticism. It just makes me realise how inexperienced we both were.
And Ray . . .
Ray is something else entirely.
This time, when it’s over, there’s no rush to pull away. No sharp words. No distance. He adjusts my clothes slowly, carefully, like I might break if he moves too fast. Then he presses a soft kiss to the side of my head.
The contrast to earlier hits me hard, emotions swirl beneath the surface and I fight them back.
He stays close, moving around the room, disposing of the condom, fixing his clothes, but his eyes keep flicking back to me.
Watching.Checking.Like he’s looking for any tiny sigh I might regret it all over again.
I sit on the edge of his desk, smoothing my dress, suddenly aware of everything—my breathing, my heartbeat, the way he’s looking at me.
He steps back in front of me, placing a hand on either side of the desk, caging me in without quite touching.
