Maya’s pov

“Lock it,” I say, the words already out before I fully decide to speak them.

Rhett does not hesitate. He crosses the office in three long strides, turns the lock with a sharp click, and then he is on me.

One second I am standing near the couch and the next he has me turn around and bend over the wide desk, papers and the closed binder shoved aside with one sweep of his arm. Contracts scatter.

My cheek presses to the cool wood and the stack of signed pages still left in the center.

He does not undress me all the way.

He yanks my skirt up...