Sweat breaks across his collarbone as I strip away his suit jacket and shirt, exposing his bare chest to my touch.

I circle my finger slowly over his chest, leaning in to drag my tongue across the side of his neck like a predator sampling its prey.

His hands hang uselessly at his sides, trembling, but he doesn't move an inch to pull away.

“I need you to answer me, Mr. Lawyer,” I demand, reaching up to grasp his belt buckle.

This is where I should draw the line. Instead, I move closer.

“Fine. I’m in,” he says. “But that is a legal offense. You know that, right?”

“I won’t...