His arms loosen so I can turn but he's still holding me. God, he looks good enough to fucking eat. The cuffs of his white dress shirt are rolled up. He's in dress slacks and not his usual club attire. It takes everything I have not to drop at his feet and rest my head again him. I can't, though. That's not who I am. Or maybe it is who I am with him but he can never know it. "I don't want this. Please let me continue working."

He shakes his head slightly. "No. We can do this ...