Page 128 of Their Arrangement
WOLFE
I sawher before she even walked in.
That scent. That fucking pace she had when she thought no one was watching—half-confident, half-defensive. Like she couldn’t decide whether to run or strut.
But I knew.
Shewantedto be seen.
Neededit.
And then she stepped through the floor…
And I stopped breathing.
The blouse was sheer.
Not pornographic. Not vulgar.
But just thin enough to turn sunlight into revelation. The outline of black lace traced beneath the silk like a secret barely held back. The corset beneath that? It cinched her ribs with precision. Brutal. Beautiful. Like armor you begged to be broken by.
The skirt? Too tight. Deliberately high. Fitted like temptation. Her hips moved in subtle sway, a whisper of power and performance that she didn’t even try to hide.
I knew the garter lines were under there.
Because I saw the flash of them.
The faint shift in fabric when she turned her body.
A breath.
A glance.
And I was hard.
Painfully hard.
I didn’t move.
Just watched from behind the glass wall of my office. One hand clenched tight around the edge of my desk, knuckles white. The other hovered near my belt. Not touching. Not yet.
She sat at her desk.
Shifted.
Twice.
Her thighs pressed together. Ankles crossed. Back straight like she’d been posed that way.
She was wet.
I could see it in the way her spine refused to relax. In the subtle lift of her chest every time she exhaled like her breath didn’t know where to land. In the sharp little inhale when she reached for her mouse.
I adjusted myself under the desk.
Subtle. Quiet.
Still hard.
