Page 93 of Unleashed

“Shh,” he whispered harshly, his voice thick with lust. “Do you want the whole office to hear?”

“I can’t help it,” I gasped, pushing back against him.

“Quiet.” His hands gripped my hips, and he started to move—hard, fast, relentless.

The fabric of his slacks brushed against my skin with each thrust, a constant reminder of our surroundings, of where we were and how dangerous this was. But I didn’t care. Not in this moment.

“Morgan,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’ve entangled me. I can’t escape you.”

“I don’t want you to escape,” I breathed, barely coherent.

“I won’t stop until you come,” he promised, his breath ragged. “It will always be you first.”

I was already close, teetering on the edge. My entire body was tense, waiting for release. He thickened inside me, and I knew he was right there with me, waiting, needing me to fall first.

With a strangled cry, I came, my orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave. My body convulsed as pleasure coursed through me, gripping him tight. Michael followed, his groan low and guttural as he spilled into the condom, his movements slowing until they stopped completely.

He collapsed onto me, his chest pressing against my back. “Keep this moment with you,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost vulnerable. “This was love, not just sex.”

I closed my eyes, fighting the emotions swelling inside me. “I know,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed the back of my neck, gentle now, tender. Slowly, he pulled out of me, and I felt empty—physically, emotionally. Michael helped me from the table, tugging my panties back into place and smoothing my dress before brushing his lips softly against mine.

“Ready to go back to work?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I’m ready to go home and sleep for a year,” I muttered, unable to shake the guilt clawing at me.

“Then come to my place,” he coaxed, his eyes searching mine. “We’ll nap together.”

I managed a weak smile. “We won’t nap, and you know it.”

He grinned, that rare, toothy smile of his. “It was worth a shot.”

The moment stretched between us, the weight of what had just happened too heavy to ignore. I couldn’t take back what I’d said—what I’d done. Pandora’s box was wide open, and there was no shutting it.

“I have to go,” I said quietly, stepping away from him.

He frowned, his eyes darkening. “Then you’re mine when you get back,” he declared softly. “We need to have a long conversation about... everything.”

I nodded, too drained to argue. “Agreed.”

The intercom buzzed, and Michael glanced at his watch. “I’m late for a call,” he said, his voice distant now. “Go back to your desk, beautiful. Finish your work.”

He kissed my cheek before walking toward the door. Just before he left, he turned back and gave me one last look—one last smile. Then he was gone.

Alone, I let out a shaky breath. I needed to regain my composure before anyone saw me. But as I headed to thebathroom and caught my reflection in the mirror, I knew the truth. My flushed cheeks, my glazed eyes—the shame hit me like a punch to the gut. I was a wreck.

With trembling hands, I cleaned myself up, the scent of Michael’s cologne lingering on my clothes like a constant reminder of my betrayal.

And for the rest of the day, it would haunt me.

The momentI stepped into my apartment, the rich fragrance of roses hit me. I froze, my eyes sweeping the room for signs of anything unusual. Slade had stayed behind after I rushed to work this morning, and the flowers could raise questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.

I glanced around but saw nothing out of place. In the bedroom, however, the bed was neatly made, and the damp towel I’d left strewn across the bathroom floor was now hanging perfectly on the bar. My heart skipped. I quickly texted Slade to say I was home and would be ready in a few minutes. Moments later, my phone buzzed, and his name lit up the screen.

“You’re home?” Slade’s voice was clipped, something off in his tone.

“Of course. Would I tell you to pick me up if I wasn’t?”

---