Layla's POV

I moaned into his mouth, needy, desperate, the sound muffled by the way he devoured me. My fingers clawed at his shirt, tugging, needing more, needing him closer. He groaned low in his throat, a sound that made my stomach clench and heat flood between my thighs.

When his hands slid lower, grabbing my hips and lifting me onto his desk like I weighed nothing, my breath caught. Papers scattered, pens rolled, but none of it mattered. All I could focus on was the hard press of his body against mine, the way he towered over me, forcing my legs apart.

“Mr. Williams—” I gasped, but the words...