I whisper, stepping between his spread thighs, close enough that the heat rolling off him licks my bare skin. Close enough that I smell clean sweat, cedar body wash, and the sharp, metallic scent of pure desperation.

His hands clench the desk behind him, but he doesn’t push me away. “Scarlett... we shouldn’t...”

“But you want to,” I say, voice like silk. “Say it.”

He groans, low and conflicted. “Fuck. Yes. I want to.”

I straddle him slow, knees sinking into the gaming chair on either side of his hips. The second my weight settles, his hands snap to my waist like they’ve been starving for months. Fingers dig in...