Page 65 of Their Arrangement
My stomach twisted.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
He stepped closer.
“Let me guess…” His voice dropped—husky, amused. “You don’t know who sent it.”
“I—”
“Was it Barron?” he mused. “Wolfe? Loyal?”
He leaned in, just enough for his breath to ghost over my cheek.
“Or do you just want it to be all of us?”
The words burned hotter than the corset.
I swallowed, breath short.
“Nice color,” he added, his finger drifting just above the waistband of my skirt. Not touching. But close. So close.
His voice was a dark whisper.
“Bet the lace is soaked already, isn’t it?”
My breath caught.
His smirk deepened.
Then he turned.
Walked away like he hadn’t just left me trembling.
The office had never felt louder.
Phones ringing.
Heels clacking.
Keyboards clicking.
But I didn’t hear any of it.
Not after Royal’s voice in my ear.
Not with the heat still rising under my skin from the way he looked at the hem of my skirt like he could see everything I didn’t want him to see—and everything I did.
I moved like I was underwater.
Slow.
Pressed in from all sides.
Hyper-aware of the corset stiff against my ribs. The soft, damp lace dragging between my thighs.
I kept my eyes forward as I passed the glass conference room.
