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28

That I wanted to take my time devouring.

The sweater she wore had a wide, open neck that had stayed in place all day. Since arriving at the bar, the neck had shifted, falling off her shoulder, tormenting me with a view of that creamy, soft-looking skin.

My dick had been hard the moment I sat beside her. A mere tease of her velvety flesh and I was fucking aching for her.

Two weeks—that was all it had taken.

A total of fourteen days and I was already enamored.

So out of character for me, so fucking risky because she was a director at our company and someone I wasn’t supposed to want, someone I wasn’t supposed to touch, someone I wasn’t supposed to desire.

Did this make me an asshole?

The worst CEO in the world?

But shit, there was something different about this woman. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something that just seemed so . . . familiar.

Like I’d passed her on the street, and we’d shared a smile.

Like I’d sat next to her during an international flight, and we’d spoke
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