CHAPTER 3: TEACHING HIS GOOD GIRL

SIDNEY'S POV

I don't know how long we stare at each other. It feels like hours and like a single frozen heartbeat all at once.

He's standing in my doorway, still in his work clothes - charcoal slacks, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up over those veiny forearms, tie loosened like he started undressing the moment he got in the car.

His keys are still in his hand, frozen halfway to his pocket, and his dark eyes are moving over me with a slowness that makes me want to die and makes me want to spread my legs wider all at the same...