At first, it had been innocent—a few smiles exchanged over the fence, casual conversation when the mail arrived. But the retired millionaire’s gaze lingered in a way that made her pulse quicken, and she began to notice subtle gestures: a hand lightly brushing against hers, a teasing remark that hinted at more than friendship. She laughed it off at first, telling herself it was harmless, yet every encounter left her flushed and craving.
Three days later, they found themselves alone in his study, a quiet room filled with the scent of aged wood and leather. He leaned closer, his voice low and confident, teasing her in ways that made her heart race. Each brush of his hand, each whispered word seemed carefully calculated to draw out her desire, awakening a part of her that she hadn’t realized existed.
She tried to resist, reminding herself of propriety, but the warmth of his touch and the commanding calm in his presence broke down her defenses. She discovered she enjoyed the thrill of surrender, the way her body responded even before her mind could catch up. By the end of that evening, she was trembling, flushed, and powerless to stop replaying every moment, knowing deep down she wanted him again—and would crave him until she did.
