Page 124 of Their Arrangement
Loyal stood by the elevator.
Coffee in hand.
Silent, but never still.
His eyes tracked me like a thread unwinding. Throat. Waist. Skirt hem. And then—my eyes. And that was the part that shook me.
Because in his stare, there was a warning. Not stop. Just...be ready.
Because if I thought this game didn’t have a price? I hadn’t been listening.
Then Wolfe.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t smirk.
Didn’t move.
But his gaze?
It stripped.
Layer by layer, from throat to thigh, across the spot where the garter clipped beneath the skirt. And when he passed me? The air broke. Like glass under pressure.
I sat at my desk—heart pounding, corset biting, silk dragging—and tried to breathe like I wasn’t coming apart.
The room didn’t settle.
Not around me.
Because they hadn’t just seen me today.
They’d recognized what they made.
And I wore it like a gift.
I typed a line.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted that too.
Each keystroke felt like a scream in the silence.
I shifted.
The lace dragged.
My thighs clenched.
My breath stuttered.
The tension wasn’t pleasure anymore.
It was possession.
