Maya’s pov

“It is ten o’clock and the presentation is as ready as it is ever going to be,” I say, still sitting in the chair with my skirt wrinkled and my thighs pressed tight together.

The numbers are perfect. My body is not. I am still soaked and aching and every breath I take feels too loud in the quiet office.

Rhett finally steps back from me.

He walks around the desk, loosens his tie with one hand, and pulls the bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer where he keeps it for big clients.

The glass clinks when he sets two tumblers on the low table in front...