Jasmine’s eyes spark with defiance, her chin raising an inch into the air. She’s getting all pumped up, ready to argue with me for the sake of it, but I spread a palm over her chest before she can speak and press her gently down to the desk.

“Oof. Victor!”

Dark tresses of hair splay out on my desk, and Jasmine’s gaze darts around my office ceiling. She’s tense and untrusting still, even now as I sink into my desk chair and move it closer. Even as I place steadying hands on her bare thighs. Her skin is warm satin.

“Relax,” I murmur, stroking with my thumbs. “You can trust...